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cowboybeepboop · 2 years

Text

Chocolate chip cookies

“Hey, hey.. Y/N get that out of your mouth, it’s not food,”

Pairing: Spock and fem!Reader

Genre: Porn with some plot

Words: 2555

Warnings: asshole Spock, horny reader, oral male receiving, slight size kink (height one not dick one), fem oral receiving, unprotected sex, stuff I can’t be too sure about, possible spelling errors

Summary: Spock gets on your nerves and you finally decided to do something about it.

A/N: man nothing much is going on, just like if you like it and have a good day <3 I lost my old account I’m just revamping and reposting on this one now 😭🫶

I can’t get enough time alone on this ship, I swear. It’s like every time I get a second to breathe someone has found me and manages to push all the wrong buttons. And this? This is just the case, I invited Captain Kirk into my quarters just so we could watch some movies and he promised me some chocolate chip cookies. However, Kirk had other some other plans and just had to invite Bones and none other than THE Lieutenant Commander Spock.

My eyes roll as Commander Spock corrects whatever “illogical” statement Kirk made. I leave the kitchen putting on a fake smile as I fix my hair. “Captain, Bones, it’s good to see you both,” I plop on the couch in between them. “Lieutenant Commander Spock, I can’t say I expected to see you here,” my jaw clenches as he gives a curt nod.

“Y/N, I hope you don’t mind that I brought along Bones and Spock,” Kirk gives a mischievous smile.

“No, of course not. I don’t mind at all,” my voice lowers at the end of my statement with a slight growl, “Anyway, did you bring the cookies you promised?” I bite my bottom lip softly as my eyes light up in expectancy. He tosses a container of his perfectly baked chocolate chip cookies and I swear I could kiss him right now.

Taking a slow but big bite I moan loudly, “Oh my, Kirk this is the best food I’ve ever eaten!” my eyes flutter shut as I chew silently.

“Y/N, that's an illogical statement. You wouldn’t remember everything you’ve eaten in your life, let alone how they tasted,” Spock says in his normal monotone voice, his eyes resting emotionless as he peers over at me.

“Well, from what I can remember,” my eyes roll once again, “and at this moment, this is the best food I’ve ever had.” My eyes burn into his skull as I intensely glare at him.

“It’s still illogical, how can you compare the taste without a more scientific approach?” He retorts his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“For fucks sake you’re illogical Lieutenant Commander Spock, no one care that much about an exaggerated statement.” I huff out, clenching my fist in annoyance.

“Okay okay you two, get off one anothers throats,” Bones chuckles softly as Kirk rubs his temples gently.

“Yeah, maybe we should leave you two to deal with this on your own?” Kirk questions in a calm tone while I send a disgusted look his way. Bones nods his head and the two get ready to leave, “Come on Y/N it can’t be that bad, you guys can just hangout while we go back to my quarters. If you truly can’t stand to be by each other then Spock can just leave.” he shrugs and the two close the door as they walk out.

“Oh come on,” I glare over at Spock who hasn’t moved an inch, “aren’t you going to leave?” he shakes his head.

“Captain Kirk ordered us to work things out,” his eyes close as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Technically it wasn't an order, he just asked us too,” a soft sigh leaves my lips as my body collapses against the sofa.

“Lieutenant, I follow orders unlike someone in this room,” his eyes open and he stares back at me, without a sign of irritation on his annoyingly beautiful features.

“Gods you get on my nerves,” my eyes are glued on his tight lips. Its not that I don’t like Spock, I just wish he’d grab me by the neck and fuck me against the wall until he forgets about things being logical or not. I wonder how he’d react knowing that I get off to him at night, thinking of him running his hands down my waist as his lips hover over my clit. That I stick my hands between my thighs imagining him kissing down my neck-

Spock clears his throat, “lieutenant, did you hear what I said?”, his eyes study mine as I stare at him dumbly.

“Uhh, no I think I spaced out,” I squeeze my thighs tightly together while chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“I was just saying how,” he maintains direct eye contact with me, “you should apologize and stop getting so emotional all the time,” he crosses his arms making his lips into a straight line.

“Excuse me?!” my voice gets higher in pitch as I stare at him wide eyed, “Spock you’re the one who should be apologizing to me,” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“That’s Commander Spock to you,” his face falters for a second almost showing a sign of emotions, “and I’m not sure why you would think I should be the one to apologize,” his eyes narrow softly.

“You’re such a fucking party pooper Commander Spock,” I roll my eyes before glaring up at Spock.

“I don’t know what a party pooper is; however, I can assure you I am not one.” his eyes flicker from the wall to my features as he tries to understand my furious expression.

“Oh? Really? Prove it to me,” a small smirk paints itself against my chapped lips, “let me show you something,”

“I don’t have anything to prove to you, but if you insist.” His voice trails softly while his posture stays stiff.

My body moves swiftly as I position myself between his thighs, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth. My fore fingers fumble with the buttons of his uniform pants as he stares down at me with a curious expression. I unzip his black pants with shaking hands before pulling them down his hips, Spock’s eyebrows furrow as he narrows his eyes.

“Lieutenant,” his voice comes out in a low growl, “what are you doing?” Spock’s eyes linger on my hands that are set on his thighs.

“Don’t you trust me? I told you I was going to make you feel,” my hand moves to palm his bulge through his boxers, “good..” my voice trails off while I look up at him innocently. He groans softly as the tips of his ears turn a light green. “Is this okay?” my thumb caresses his tip gently. Spock nods his head as he pushes his hips up into my hand, leaning his head back against the sofa. “No, Commander, I need to hear you say it,” I pull his chin down forcing him to look me in the eyes.

“Yes. Please Y/N.” he sighs out, “Make me feel good,” Spock slips out of his pants looking down at me with desire in his eyes. Pulling down the waistband of his boxers I rest one hand on his thigh as I sit on my knees.

“Spock, that’s illogical, I thought you couldn’t feel.” my lips curve up into a sly smile as he groans in annoyance. I wrap my fingers around the base of his dick slowly pumping it and using my free hand to squeeze his balls gently. Spock bucks his hips up trying to get me to speed up my movements. Taking the hint I speed up my hand and swipe my thumb over his tip spreading his precum around. I lick a stripe up the shaft of his dick, kissing the salty tip before wrapping my lips around it.

Spock jolts up, “Hey, hey.. Y/N get that out of your mouth, it’s not food,” a soft giggle escapes from my lips sending vibrations down his body. “Oh fuck.” he groans and takes a fist full of my hair. Spock leans his head back moaning as I stuff his length in as far down my throat as I can. Tears build in my eyes while I try and blink them away bobbing my head slowly as my fingers wrap around the remainder of his dick.

“Lieutenant,” he growls out while pulling me up to him, “you proved your point, you can make me feel good.. Now let me do the same for you.” His eyes darken as he lays me down on my back pulling off the rest of his clothes. Spock delicately pulls off my dress, admiring my half naked form as I lay underneath him. I lick my lips while looking down at his long, throbbing, leaking cock. He picks up my hips and pulls down my panties, spreading my legs and putting them on his shoulders.

“Y/N, did you know,” he kisses my inner thigh softly, “that only 18% of female orgasms, in humans of course, come from vaginal stimulation..” his hands trail up my torso pulling my upper body up so he can unclasp my bra, he finally unhooks it and flings it off to the side.

“Mmm, Commander.. You certainly did your research..” I swear he nearly smiled at my comment as he grasps one of my breasts and put the nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly and swirling his tongue around the bud. My back arches up as a soft moan leaves my plump lips, eyes rolling into the back of my skull while I squeeze his firm forearm. Spock presses wet kisses down my body leading down to my pussy. His eyes meet mine as he kisses my clit softly causing me to hike my hips up into his lips moaning quietly.

He flicks his tongue against the bundle of nerves, my legs instinctively squeeze together blocking off his access to my pussy. Spock pries my legs apart hooking his muscular arms over my thighs, “Y/N be a good girl, let me see you,” he coos against my hip bone. I moan needingly while he squeezes his fingers into my thighs, his lips finding their way back to my clit. Spock sucks and pulls on the tense nerves leaving my legs shaking.

“Fuck Spock, you’re going to make me cum soon..” squeezing my eyes shut as my hole throbs waiting to be filled. He pushes his tongue into my tight hole and uses the tip of his nose to stimulate my aching bud, loud moans fill the room, a tight feeling building in my stomach.

“Cum for my baby.. I want to taste you, my pretty girl,” he mumbles against my sweaty skin as sensations continue to build in my core demanding release. My hands tangle in his hair pulling him as close as I can, Spock uses one hand to keep my legs spread while he takes the other and massages my breast. He rubs the tip of his nose at the right angle into the sensitive bundle, hitting just the right spot. My body shakes as I try to pull away an itchy feeling of ecstasy takes over my brain, Spock presses his thumb onto my clit, rubbing circles. I moan loudly as the itch starts to become overwhelming but he won't let up, he keeps pushing and prodding until cum spills out of me. He licks up every last bit of cum he can, he wipes his mouth with a proud expression painted on his face, leaving his fingers to keep playing with my pussy pushing my orgasm further.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” his thumb caresses my cheekbone as he pulls me into his lap. I crash my lips against his tracing his jaw with my hand wrapping the other behind his head, he pulls my body closer against him, our chests pressing together. Spock keeps his arm tight against my waist, squeezing my ass with his free hand.

“Are you up for more,” he kisses my neck softly spreading my cheeks and leaning me back lining his tip up with my hole.

“Yes, please Spock..” he pushes the tip in groaning at the tightness. I swiftly pull his left hand toward my mouth as he bottoms out, pushing his fingers against my lips while moaning loudly. He watches me intently trying not to push into me before I’m fully adjusted to his length, taking his forefingers into my mouth. I twirl my tongue between them sucking on the calloused skin Spock moans into my ear in response.

“Good girl, shit you’re making me feel so fucking good..” he groans while thrusting up into me, I throw my head back basking in the pleasure. His eyes are trained on the place where our bodies connect, he moans at the sight as he pushes up into me roughly. I push my thumb into the center of Spock’s palm, a small amount of saliva spills from the corners of my mouth as I continue sucking on his digits. “Darling, as much as I’m loving this, I want to touch you..”

He groans, sighing while pulling his hand from my lips, he uses my saliva to help as he circles his fingers around my clit. Using his other hand to explore my body as I ride him, my hands rest on his toned chest keeping me steady. My movements become sloppy as he thrusts up to me before laying me against the sofa.

“Look at you, my beautiful girl.. I’ve been imagining this for so long,” he groans into my shoulder, thrusting roughly into me. My back arches up into his chest as my hands wrap around his neck. My hands tangle into his hair pulling at his roots, I kiss him roughly and moan into his mouth.

Spock kisses my face all over as his thrusts become sloppy, “Cum with me, be a good girl for me,” the tension is building in my core again while Spock holds my head up from the base of my scalp. He watches my face contort as moans spill effortlessly from my lips, he groans into my ear while sucking on my nipple. I feel the coil in my stomach begin to unravel, his hip bones crash into mine as I feel myself cumming around him with a loud moan. “Fuck,” Spock groans as I tighten around him, he quickly pulls out cumming on my stomach.

“Damnit,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair, “I should clean you up now..” he picks me up bridal style and walks into my bathroom, starting the shower. “Y/N, you’re offly quiet,” his eyebrows furrow and it seems as if panic flashes in his eyes.

A small giggle escapes my mouth as he keeps me flush against his body, “Spock, you’re getting your cum all over yourself,” he kisses against my jaw and down my neck.

“I guess we’ll just have to shower together now,” he stands up tall, admiring the height gap between us, considering he’s around 6’2 (187.96 cm) and you’re a good 5’2 (roughly 157.48 cm). Spock pushes your face against his chest as he runs his hands up and down your back. “Did I prove you wrong?” he nuzzles his face into your shoulder.

“What do you mean?” I mumble against his pec while wrapping my arms around his waist.

“You called me a party pooper, I proved you wrong didn’t I?” He stares down at me with a proud smile.

“Damnit, you always have to be right, don’t you?” I sigh against his chest, too tired to look up at him.

“Yes, I suppose I do enjoy being correct.” he runs his hand through my hair.

“Spock that was a rhetorical question,”

“Yes, that's illogical.”

#spock #Star trek smut #spock x reader #smut #spock x reader smut #Star Trek #spock smut #spock and reader

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ginneke · 6 months

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for the fanfic end of the year asks, number 3!

(Fanfic end of the year asks available here: link)

Oh, thank you for the ask! And there’s really one passage that stands out to me as a favourite of 2023, which hails from Corrigendum – the self-indulgent, entirely unnecessary third part of my series Keepsakes.

But first, as single lines go, it has to be this:

"Why," says Revali, his voice lifting in shrill distress, "do you never pay the slightest bit of attention to me?"

(from A Study In Patience. Part 2 coming soon!)

(…What, did you think it would be that line from the end of A Seed of Song chapter 4? While that is certainly a favourite line, it was technically my favourite line of 2022 – it was already written all the way back in Feb ‘22, even though it was another 16 months before you would see it.)

—

Anyway. Corrigendum. Chosen passage and a brief recap/rationale below, under a cut for length and for varying degrees of spoilers for, somehow, all three of Keepsakes, Pinesong, and Moonlight:

Keepsakes was originally a two-part meditation on the piece of cloth Revali tied to the Great Eagle Bow, which always remains on it no matter how many times you break it and have it rebuilt, and the following line of Harth’s in the first Keepsakes story, Memento: “Where things are kept, what they are kept with, that has a meaning.”

Memento and Lacuna were both set within the boundaries of canon, focusing on Link’s possession of the Great Eagle Bow and more than a small dose of headcanon about the Paraglider; Corrigendum, meanwhile, played on the famous amnesia plotline of @ghirahimbo’s Pinesong, with a little of my and @heleentje’s answer to the Alive!Champions scenario in our Moonlight series baked in: if there were stasis chambers in the Divine Beasts, just like how the Shrine of Resurrection was revealed to be part of a Divine Beast in the Champions’ Ballad DLC, then was it not possible that the revived Champions might suffer a similar level of memory loss as Link did: i.e., total?

That’s the context with which the following scene between Revali and Zelda needs to be read. (A small section relating to Zelda’s personal feelings of guilt and regret has been cut for length.)

There was one person she hadn't mentioned, of course. Revali wondered whether she would comment on it of her own accord, but she seemed willing to speak only of others. If he had to pry the words from her, so be it. "I cannot help but notice someone missing from your account, pri- Zelda," he said, correcting himself at the last second. It felt strange to address her without titles: a hundred years and his memory removed from such formality, and yet it still seemed like an overstep. Next to him, Zelda went very tense. "What do you mean?" Honestly. Must he spell it out for her? "You," he said, as though it should be obvious. To him it was: it seemed its own sort of hellishness, to have so many memories that nobody else shared. "How are you faring?" Her look of surprise – had he truly shown so little concern for her in the past, that she was taken aback by his questioning now? – faded into something more sombre. "I... cannot complain," she said at last, which seemed to be all she was willing to say on the subject. [...] Zelda inhaled a steadying breath. "...About Li–" Her words lodged like ice. Revali cut her off: "Don't." He couldn't bear to speak of Link. Not now. Perhaps not ever. Certainly not while he was so incapable of reconciling the words in his diary with the roiling confusion left in their wake. Even thinking of that knight brought a wave of weariness over him. Though Zelda had done nothing wrong, Revali no longer had any wish to continue the conversation.

Revali and Zelda come into this conversation from incredibly disparate positions, and they're on completely different pages. Firstly, Zelda has the advantage of memory, but in some ways Revali has a clearer view of what their relationship from 100 years ago was actually like, thanks to his diary (the contents of which are alluded to or outright paraphrased in the opening part of this scene). Secondly, Zelda has full knowledge of what happened to Link -- at least up until he disappeared after the thought of re-boarding Vah Ruta (as Zelda wanted to do in the 'true ending' of BOTW) proved too much for the Keepsakes version of Link. (Yes, Link’s disappearing act is another small nod to Pinesong.)

But Revali does not.

From Zelda’s point of view, Revali’s comment about ‘some[body] missing from [her] account’ sounds like a not-so-subtle dig at the missing Link. I actually tried to thread this idea through even in his narration: 'she seemed willing to speak only of others', is meant to tread that thin boundary line of which person he's actually talking about, Zelda or Link.

Her reaction is therefore wary: she wonders how much Revali now remembers, and how much of his comment is a continuation of his century-old dislike of Link. — After all, she wasn’t privy to the scene in Lacuna’s flashback; and despite that interlude, Revali and Link’s relationship didn’t change all as much as they might have hoped. (Or as much as Link wants to believe, by the end of Memento/Lacuna—the true backstory there was one of might-have-beens instead of let’s-do-betters.)

She’s surprised, then, by Revali’s question being not about Link, but about herself. And this is something that I would have loved to delve into a little, but the nature of the story kept me bound tightly to Revali’s perspective: Zelda is doing well only in that she’s throwing herself into distractions, trying to adjust to the circumstances of being a hundred years displaced from the world she’s familiar with.

(Sidenote: I toyed with that dichotomy of the post-Calamity world being utterly uncanny to her – at once familiar and yet also somehow alien – in another story I wrote this year, catharsis, which had Zelda finally reuniting with Impa after a century.)

And she has ample distractions with the other Champions, who – as her recounting of events implies – she’s spent rather a lot of time around, and considerably more time than she has with Revali. She wouldn’t even be at Rito Village now if it wasn’t the home of Kass, the only person she thought might be able to find Link.

Perhaps, if she had taken a little more care to visit him, Zelda would be aware of the narrative Revali has been constructing, piece by piece, while he’s been left to fend for himself…

To an extent, Revali's own diary was held against him. His words are taken as a primary source of insight into his character, rather than at least part of his writing being a continuation of his attempts to define and shape his future legacy (his 'legend', as the diary's forepage none-too-subtly declares).

Yes, Harth did come to the conclusion of something existing between the Rito and Hylian Champions of a century ago (incidentally, that's why he makes the offer of showing Revali the same sheaf of papers he shared with Link in Memento – providing an alternative source of information), but Teba has a different focus. Harth is interested in the truth of the story; Teba is protective of the people involved, and with only circumstantial evidence to suggest that Champion Revali had at least some positive feeling towards that knight, and significantly more evidence to suggest Revali didn't care at all for Link, he deflects and puts it off for now.

Nobody expected Link to be AWOL for months.

And that brings us back to this passage, the first real opportunity for the truth to come out; and so Zelda takes the initiative, trying to bring up Link. 'If you want to know how we're all doing,' she's thinking, 'then I should tell you about him as well.'

But Revali is of the belief – entirely logically, based on the facts he knows! – that Link is long dead. Whether 100 years ago, or at some point in the decades since. Hylian lifespans just aren't long enough for him to still be around. We only need to look at the oldest Hylians living in Hateno, who weren't born until after the Calamity during the Era of Burning Fields, to know that 80-90 seems to be the Hylian limit.

—

Here's another thing: In the time since writing Corrigendum, I saw a post here on tumblr suggest that grief is a topic that's fairly impossible to write about, because grief doesn't end as long as you remember it, and it's the sort of thing that hits you, over and over, in often mundane ways that look bizarre to the outsider. Yet -- not to put too high a declaration of quality on my writing, but I honestly do believe that I achieved that in Corrigendum, while staying true to the character in question.

Yes, it was deliberately under-written, circled around instead of facing it head-on -- even the early use of the word 'grief' was shied away from, declaring it only 'something like grief'. That felt far more 'Revali' than giving in to sentiment. So far, most of this emotion has been in the gaps where he's confronted with knowledge of the past, of something missing, of something more to Link; he's seeing Link better in this patchwork recollection, able at last to look beyond '[the] sword that drew the eye and distracted from the man that bore it'. And it's in these moments that his true feelings linger, even if he can't (or won't) give voice to them.

—

Link has always been a touchy subject. Once, they might have been on a similar page regarding that (their mutual complicated feelings about a boy around their age to whom things seemed to come so easily).

In reality, they still are — and it's a different page to the one they shared before, of resentment and frustration and trying to figure out their own place. Link has long become a person to them—Zelda openly, as seen throughout the original game; Revali less obviously, but still apparent through his post-Blight dialogue and particularly in the DLC content, as well as the additional background and memory/ies I created for Memento/Lacuna.

But this Revali – a Revali who still has only a partial sense of his own identity, who doesn't necessarily like the person he'd been even if he can't figure out who else he could be – this version of Revali can't yet acknowledge or confront the truth of what he's experiencing.

What I wanted was to challenge Revali to say it out loud and admit to it — "I am grieving." This, here, is the closest Revali can currently get... Ice. Roiling confusion. Something unbearable. Weariness. Within his narration, the raw, aching wound of grief is clear, but aloud, the only thing he can think to do is to cut Zelda off and prevent her from saying what he cannot yet confront.

"Don't." Don't bring him up. Don't make me hear this. Don't make it real.

Characters frantically back-scrabbling away from open and frank communication, in the interests of protecting their own fragile hearts, is something that can be so delightful.

—

Zelda, who isn't privy to the struggle Revali is going through, can only hear this rejection at face-value and back off, assuming that things are as they were 100 years ago. This is something that can only be repaired by finding Link himself – and so she'll continue with her original plan, enlisting Kass to help track the wayward swordsman down.

(And Revali will finally give voice to what he's been feeling… when a certain someone arrives in Rito Village :3 )

#fanfic asks #fanfic ask meme #fic series: keepsakes #fic: corrigendum #ginnefic #(about) my writing #an anon appears #thank you for the ask!

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darkmasterofcupcakes · 2 years

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DHMIS Review: Short 2, Time

I have to say, I’m kind of impressed by the fact that they managed to actually make the ticking of a clock not only work as actually music, but that it’s actually got a pretty good beat?

I am kind of wondering what’s up with their TV, since with how they talk about how it’s almost time for their show to start, you’d think that either the TV would be off, or there’d be something playing. But, no, the TV is on, but there’s nothing but static. Do they actually like whatever show they’re planning to watch, or is that just the only time the television works, and they just...want to watch television in general? I’d honestly believe either at this point.

Also, can I just say how impressive the improvement in the puppets is from the first short to this one, especially considering this was from before the kickstarter, if I remember correctly. Yellow Guy especially had a major improvement, namely in regards to how the mouth seems to have been designed. Now he looks a lot more like how I feel most of us tend to remember him.

Anyone else find it a little funny that Red Guy actually bothers to wonder who Tony is (and I’d assume, even though he doesn’t say anything, where he came from), but none of the three really seemed to question it when the Sketchbook came to life in the last short? I mean, Yellow Guy got a shocked expression for a second when she started singing, but nobody ever was like “Wait, what’s happening?” They all just sort of went with it. Now that I’m thinking about it, I think Tony showing up is the only time any of them actually really question the Teachers showing up, at least in the shorts.

“Rizd”? Guess these Teachers just really can’t spell. Then again, with Tony maybe he just wrote it wrong once and then didn’t want to waste the time fixing it, since it’d still “sound” correct when it was being sung. Also, the whole “the future doesn’t exist” is one of those lines that sounds kind of dark, but it’s basically just pointing out that technically you can never really experience the future, since by the time the future happens...it’s become the present for you.

I know the main joke in the bath scene is how they use “brown” even though it doesn’t rhyme, because the most obvious rhyming word wouldn’t be creative...but am I the only one who finds it hilarious that Duck is the one wearing a shower cap...and he’s the only one who doesn’t seem to have any actual hair?

I think I pointed this out last short review, but I do find it interesting that with both of these first two Teachers, they don’t really seem to get hostile at all until one of the main Trio (or, actually, I think it’s Red Guy both times) says something that they could see as insulting or rude? He called Sketchbook’s way of expressing herself “boring”, and here he just flat out tells Tony they don’t want to have the lesson he’s clearly passionate about teaching. Not even asking if they could do it later, after the show, just flat out going “We don’t want to” - which also has the added “bonus” of, like Duck in the first episode of the TV show, making decisions for the group without consulting the others at all.

The introduction to Roy almost always gets a bit of a chuckle out of me just for how random it is. There’s zero build up for it, and it doesn’t even fit with what’s happening at the moment, with them listing off things you can do to have a fun time. Yellow Guy just randomly jumps in to tell everyone he’s friends with his dad, and then we get a moment to hold on Roy that’s just long enough to split the difference between unsettling and hilarious. But that whole “I’m friends with my dad” thing....Oh, boy, that is not going to age the best by the end of these shorts, is it?

I don’t know why I love the fish montage, but I do. Maybe it’s just because of how random it is, or maybe part of it is because of the brief cameo from the Sketchbook. Which I am convinced is what helped to spark the Padlock ship, since it kind of established they were both around in the house, meaning fans could imagine they’d interact. I’m also kind of wondering now why there was never really much of a theory that Tony was obsessed with fish, since fish are brought up much more than pizza. Maybe because Tony’s not the one actually singing during the montage?

It’s super messed up, but I kind of love how Tony making the trio rapidly age is done in response to them starting to question if time actually exists. He basically does it because, well, if time wasn’t real, they’d expect to stay the same forever. So, in the mind of a being that doesn’t have “human” morals, what better what to prove that time exists than to give them an undeniable example of the effects time has on the body?

Though, obviously part of it was also just him getting completely fed up with them trying to undermine his lesson. And unlike with the Sketchbook, it’s pretty clear that Tony did this all intentionally, and, from both his expression right before the aging starts and the brief shot we see of him watching as it happens, he does take a bit of pleasure from it.

Considering I know mistakes can and do happen in media, part of me can’t help but wonder if the Duck’s eye still being on the floor after we cut back to what seems to be the beginning of the episode was intention or not? I think the most common assumption is that it was, because it serves as proof that the main characters were rapidly aged/killed by Tony, only for him to “reset” them back to before all of that happened, to help them learn their lesson about time. And while that is the most fun to think about as a fan, I do have to consider the possibility that the eye still being on the floor might have just been an error - like it fell there when they were doing the aging scene, and when they swapped out the puppets and costume back to the “normal” ones, they forgot to pick up the eye.

Gotta love how, after trying to refuse to listen to the lesson because he wanted to watch TV....Red Guy just turns it off without a word as soon as they’re presumably able to start watching.

This is what I feel is the signature episode of all of DHMIS. Well, technically I feel like if you want to full experience what the series is like in a bit of a nutshell, you need to watch both this short and the one preceding it, but “Time” has a bit more polish and I think gets a bit of an edge for introducing both the character of Roy, and the knowledge of just how bad things can get for the main characters. Because this is the first time we actually see any of them get harmed, physically, during a “lesson”.

My favorite episode of either series, and pretty much iconic: 5/5

#Don't Hug Me I'm Scared #DHMIS #DHMIS Review #DHMIS Webseries #DHMIS Shorts #DHMIS Time #Long Post

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lavishedinjimin · 3 years

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Hickeys 101 -> dilf!jjk

— synopsis: After Jungkook catches you messing around with another boy, he was determined to teach you a lesson you'll only learn from a father... well, step-father.

↳ pairing: dilf jungkook x f.reader

↳ genre: smut/angst

↳ rating: 18+

↳ word count: 8.6k

↳ warnings: step-dad jungkook, AGE GAP, all characters are in legal age, D/S, daddy kink, condescension, degradation, they’re both toxic and mean, mind manipulation, Jungkook puts OC in subspace, face fucking, spitting, usage of a belt, unprotected sex (ya’ll know the drill already!), little aftercare

A/N: this fic is not suitable for all audiences. If you are easily offended and are sensitive to the warnings stated above, this might not be for you. reminder that the events in this story are purely made up and fictional.

Living with no one else other than your profoundly distant stepdad during lockdown – where you can’t escape, where you can’t go anywhere – is much harder than this zoom class you’re attending.

“I'm so exhausted,” you mutter beneath your breath, rolling your eyes to the back of your head for your brain hurts from your Econ professor’s infuriating voice.

Most of the time you are shuffling endlessly from how uncomfortable the wooden chair in this dining area is. With your laptop placed in front of you, the blue light surely ruining your eyes, you tirelessly listen to the lecture as much as your brain could wield.

But your attention span isn't as great as most people.

Completely losing your focus on the class after two minutes, you turn your attention to your stepdad working his way to the kitchen.

“Can you put a goddamn shirt on?” you huff, a tinge of irritation in your voice.

He passes by you with a swift glance.

“How are you doing?” Jungkook asks, utterly ignoring your complaint.

“Since when did you care?” You place your chin on top of your palm, stopping your urges to not look at his exposed torso. His sleeve of tattoos was undeniably eye-catching, but you were too petty to go a have a normal conversation with him.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was used to your sharp tongue. He knew you didn’t like him ever since he started to date your mom. But now that he was technically your parent, he has all the right to correct you and put you in your place.

“You know I don’t like that tone, missy.” Jungkook stretches out his words, sounding stern. But you just sarcastically laugh him off.

As your stepdad was making some food in the kitchen, the class grew longer and more monotonous than ever. You were never the type to pay attention in class, and neither did it help that the school decided to move to online learning. Now you’re truly failing school.

“Jung—dad,” you sigh, realizing that his exposed back can almost be seen on your front camera’s screen, “can you scoot back a little? They can see you on-cam.”

“Nope.”

Jungkook chuckles at the way you grunt as he continues to make his avocado toast.

“Oh come on—” Jungkook teasingly shows the rest of his behind to the camera, not caring at all that your professor and classmates can see. “Give them a little show.”

“No!” immediately, you close your camera before swiftly turning your head to his direction, “Can you just stop? Okay? I’m trying to pay attention and you’re not helping!” You yell, banging your fist on the wooden table.

“I’m so tired, dad. Can you just go away?!”

He replies with his back still facing you, “Maybe if you asked a little nicer than that, little girl.”

With a complete shock to the words he used, you found yourself blushing in red while your eyes slowly expand. Your body's reaction from that single sentence was intoxicating. Your class was now forgotten and your professor's voice became white noise.

“W-What did you just call me?” You didn’t expect your tone to be as soft as it seemed.

Jungkook finally flips around to face you. He scans you, taking a good look at you as he crosses his arms together.

You couldn't dismiss that the way he looked at you made you feel something. Something that you’ve never experienced before.

“I called you little girl. That’s what you are, right?” he sneers, “A little girl who thinks she can talk to her father so impolitely.”

It was like a cat got your tongue. You flutter your eyes, trying to think of what to reply.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, “Tsk. See, you're rubbish in talking, Y/n. Once I start to put you in your place, you can no longer put on that bratty act on me.” He suddenly starts to walk over to you, putting you in a frenzy. You sit up straight, pursing your lips as you can't seem to breathe normally.

You cannot believe what was happening. Your mind starts to wander off from reality, trying to figure out what he is trying to tell you. Why did his voice change the way it did? As he walks closer, you can feel the warmth of his body enveloping yours. It was a situation that you wanted to run away from, but at the same time, you craved.

With your back to him, he places his hands to rest on the table in front of you. He traps you in your place, not letting you escape. Your breath hitch unexpectedly as he leans his face closer to yours.

“Jungkook… go away f-from me.” A trail of curses echoes in your mind, for you wanted to sound intimidating and not like a little kid.

Jungkook chuckles and clicks his tongue, “Then push me away, little girl.”

Everything in your system freezes. As if you just had been tasered, you feel electricity shooting throughout your body. Jungkook adores your reaction. He’s older than you, he knows more than you; and he knows just how to make a woman as you melt beneath his palms.

“Silent now, aren’t we?” he teases with a velvety voice, inching his face even closer to the curve of your neck. Strands of his hair tickle your neck as hot breath blows against your skin, causing shivers down your spine.

He hears a little whimper from you, making the grin on his face growing wider. “Be. A. Good. Girl. For. Me,” he says through an award-winning smirk.

But – of course – you will not let yourself lose.

“No.”

“No?” he stares at you, baffled.

“Never in a million years,” a bitter grin appears on your face.

Jungkook leans back and away from you. He was a hundred percent sure that he’s got you under his spell, but your reply got his mouth dry.

“Yeah?” So, he’s resulting in Plan B.

A hands-on experience.

Slowly and delicately, he lifts his tattooed-covered hand and wraps it around your neck. “Mhmm, there we go,” he coos after hearing another sudden whimper, “Remember who you're talking to, little girl, got it?”

Your palms start to get sweaty as you try your hardest not to moan. Jungkook grips your jugular tighter, making you hitch a breath. You can hear him grunt under his breath, knowing for a fact that this was turning him on as well.

“Who are you talking to, huh?” he starts to get aggressive as he presses his lips right against the shell of your ear. “Tell me, little girl. Remind yourself who’s in charge. C’mon, can’t speak now, baby?”

Baby.

Your eyes automatically close at that, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “Daddy.”

“Mhm, good girl—”

“Daddy,” you whine, “Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, y-you’re in control.”

‘Finally’, Jungkook thinks to himself with a large cocky grin on his face. He finally got you to submit.

“Someone’s not as tough as they seem… I think I need to punish you for being such a fucking brat. What do you say?”

The way he said those words right against your ear instantly made your panties wet. It was humiliating that you got turned on by your stepdad, but at the same time, it was hot.

“Little girl… tsk, I need you to answer with your words and not with a desperate whimper.”

He releases the grip he has on your throat and instead, elevates his hand so that his fingers can rub against your scalp. A tingling sensation runs through your backbone as he massages your scalp, feeling so overwhelmingly good that made you lean back against his hand, yearning for more.

“Punish me,” you say in an almost audible whisper. “Do what you want, I don’t care. Please, please, please…”

Jungkook takes a good look at you; your cheeks flushed, eyelids closed and your mouth slightly parted. It looks like you were enjoying this a lot – too much to be exact.

The feeling was something else, something foreign that you honestly craved for such a long time. You and Jungkook had were never close, and you’ve never thought of him as a real father figure. After such a long time of not having a man to run the family, you didn’t know how to act around one.

Within a second of realization that you were loving this too much, he removes his hand from you and walks away without saying anything else. You feel like you just got heartbroken.

“W-What… why did you?” you stutter through a long exhale. Your eyes begged for him to come back, damn it – you were ready for him!

As Jungkook walks away from the kitchen with his bare, muscular back facing you, he says a final time, “Take your studies seriously, Y/n. I don’t want you failing any subject.”

You feel your shoulders slump down and your mouth purses into a straight line. You just got edged by your stepdad.

Staying silent was, you thought, the right thing to do at the moment. You insatiably did not trust your voice, and there was nothing to say to him without embarrassing yourself.

You glance at the clock on the wall just beside the refrigerator. As your classes were done for the day, and you have the rest of the afternoon all to yourself. Despite all of the unfinished homework that you currently have piled in your calendar, you still choose to watch a movie on Netflix and eat a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

And, of course, all this just to distract yourself from the bizarre shit that happened between you and your step-dad, and to divert your attention on something else other than how sexy he is.

“Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you’re going this late?” Your dad stops you from stepping outside the door, grabbing you by the arm. You close your eyes for a brief moment, inhaling some air to let your senses calm down. The door was already opened, and all you had to do was to get out a little faster, and he wouldn’t have caught you.

Perhaps trying to sneak out of the house was harder than you thought.

Jungkook spins you around and makes you look at his dark eyes despite the dim lights of the entryway. He wears black checkered pajama pants and a white tank top, hair all messy as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep.

“It’s ten o’clock, and you’re supposed to be in bed,” he warns you with a strict tone.

Snatching your arm away from him, you reply with gritted teeth, “I’m going out with a friend.”

“Friend?” he scoffs, “I wasn’t born last night, Y/n. Where is he?”

“He?” You slowly back away, taking tiny little steps closer to the door, “What do you mean ‘he’? I’m not going out with any guy, dad.”

Jungkook rests his hips on one leg and eyes you up and down. Based on what you were wearing and the makeup that you have on, you looked like you’re about to give some boy the time of his life.

“I’m not going to do anything I’d regret, I promise,” you whisper as quiet as the night sky behind you. “I’ll be good, daddy.”

That was all it took for Jungkook to stop his tracks. You knew what you just did to him. The way how we reacted, how he froze immediately at his place, was the same reaction you had earlier this day when he did all those dirty things to you. Now he was in your shoes.

As Jungkook looked like a dear in headlights, that was the time where you rushed off into the middle of the streets where Yeonjun’s car is hesitantly parked.

“Quick, quick, quick!” you half-whispered, half-shouted as you closed the passenger’s door. Yeonjun laughs loudly while setting the gear up, preparing the car for a long, speedy ride.

You look back and see Jungkook standing outside the porch, watching in awe as the car drives away from him. There was nothing funnier than seeing his stunned expression, for he couldn't do anything about your mischief anymore.

“Is he angry?” Yeonjun asks, still giggling in his seat.

“Yeah, he didn’t want me to leave,” You swing the seatbelt across your torso, securing it in the buckle.

Yeonjun passes you a drink he bought for you from McDonald’s in which you gladly receive with thanks. “What’s this?” you ask before taking a sip.

“Iced coffee. We’re out here for a long, long night, Y/n. See, I have one for myself!” he exclaims as he points to his drink sitting on the cupholder.

Yeonjun pulls down the windows so that you two can get a feel of the cold, fresh air of the starry night. Strands of hair would so often get caught in between your lips, distracting you from the relaxing scenario.

Lifting your elbow to rest on the window frame, you ask him, “Are you sure this drive-in cinema is open this late at night?”

“Of course, they’re open 24/7.” Yeonjun takes a quick look at you before returning his focus on the road. He smirks slightly, “We’re gonna have so much fun, Y/n. You won’t regret it.”

You’ve already entered high-school when Jungkook met you. His first impressions of you were bashful and conservative, only showing your true nature around your friends. He thought you were such a warmhearted kid. He was only dating your mother at the time.

But you’ve never really felt that he was a part of the family. His aura was never the nurturing ‘dad’ type, but rather, the ‘cool uncle’. He was never accustomed to kids, he’s the youngest of his siblings, so it was astounding that he’d ever married someone with a hormonal teen.

Thus, as you’ve grown older, he’s slowly seeing your real side. Inch by inch, you're letting him see your colors and how you behave. A snappy and confident girl you are. You always have an opinion on things and you despise it when somebody gets in your way.

That’s how your mother raised you. She taught you how to stand up for yourself and how to make yourself known, even though you sometimes overstep people’s boundaries.

Your mom was out of town for a trip with her office friends. She just landed a new job at the local government unit, and she was invited to their annual orientation. Which, if you were in her shoes, wouldn’t go to. But thankfully without her strict guidance, you can do whatever you want.

Just say the magic words to your stepdad, and he’ll be putty in your hands.

Consequently, Jungkook won't admit that he doesn’t like your attitude you put on him. He cares for you, he does. But if there’s ever a situation that you cross his limits, he wouldn’t hesitate to punish you and make it known that in the end, he’s older and you need to obey him.

Scared was a downright understatement. No matter how much you try to be brave and face whatever your stepdad might do to you as a penalty for ‘misbehaving’, you couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat.

It was two in the morning, and your eyes are bloodshot red from almost having no sleep at all, besides the little nap you and Yeonjun took after watching a series of old movies in the drive-in cinema. You were wearing his sweater that he gave to you to keep you warm.

“Thank you for tonight, Yeonjun,” you lean into the window frame, resting your arms on it. The yellow-haired boy smiles at you, his eyes wandering around your face as if memorizing every pattern of your features. He takes a final look at your bruised, swollen lips and hickey-covered neck before orienting his torso close to you. His face was an inch away from yours before he kisses you goodbye.

“Try not to get caught,” he whispers against your lips with a cheeky grin.

“You said that before, and I got caught,” you shrug while tilting your head to the side, “Say something else.”

Yeonjun scrunches his nose. He uses his right hand to pinch your cheek endearingly, “Alright, then. How about… good luck with your stepdad.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you release an exasperated sigh while closing your eyes. The two of you result in laughter, before giving him his goodbye.

Hurriedly, you rush around the house until you arrive at your bedroom window. Thanking your past self for slightly lifting the glass pane open beforehand, it was easy for you to sneak in without any faults.

The room was dim only because of the dawn lights outside. “Ah, finally,” you shut the window, hearing the loud ‘thud’ in contrast to the quiet atmosphere around you.

“Did you enjoy yourself, hm?”

‘Oh. My. God.’

It feels like you were in a horror movie. Jungkook’s cold voice sent shivers all over your body, running down your spine, arms, and legs. Frozen in your place, you gulp the ball that formed in your throat.

Jungkook was sitting comfortably in your bed, one leg above another. “You know, little girl, I didn’t know how comfy this bed is. I might sleep in here with you sometimes.”

“What?” you abruptly turn to look at him. He had a despicable smirk, knowing what he said has gotten on your nerves. “You will not sleep with me.”

“Why not?” he doesn’t lose eye contact with you as he stands up, “You’re my baby girl.”

Your breathing turned heavy as he slowly pushes you back into a concrete wall, not providing you any room to run away. “I-I’m…I’m what?”

His eyes inspect your body up and down. You were praying to someone above that he wouldn’t see your hickeys, but it was all too late, and he knows you too much.

Jungkook prods his tongue in his cheek once his menacing eyes stay on your neck. He looks straight into your eyes, before directing them back to those hickeys.

“What is this—” your breathing snags from how rapid he was to press his body against you, wrapping his right hand around your jaw. He forcefully tilts your head to gain more access to your neck. Jungkook analyzes the deep red and purple marks on your skin, feeling oh-so disappointed in you. You turn squeamish from how tight he holds you, hearing how rugged the way his breath became, deep inhales and aggressive exhales. “What a fucking slut you are.”

You feel your blood rushing out from your face, turning pale in a mere second of him saying that word to you.

With a gruff, guttural voice, Jungkook doesn’t let you explain for he swiftly turns you around, pushing your frontside onto the cold wall.

He holds the back of your neck and “I stayed up all fucking night waiting for you to come back home. Despite how fucking irritating and bratty you are, no matter how much you hate me, I care for you, Y/n. I fucking care for you, and I promised your mother that I’ll look after you.”

You whimper when he tightens his grip once again, but you didn’t think about pushing away.

“But here you are, not even cooperating with daddy.”

“You’re not—”

Jungkook suddenly gives your clothed ass cheek a hard, loud spank. Your engrossed gasp captivated the room, and it sure did something to him. Jungkook, although he knows that you can’t see him, hides his growing smirk by biting his lower lip. He gives you a second spank, and a third spank, making your legs quiver and knees buckle from the pain.

“P-Please stop…” you whine, your hands trying to reach behind you to grab his arms.

“Stop?” he raises an eyebrow, “Wanna stop, little girl? You don’t like it when daddy spanks your ass?”

However, you don’t answer. You don’t know what you want. The situation turned you on, and you know you’ll love the way your ass will burn afterward. Why stop now when you can enjoy it?

Jungkook sees your mind was racing with thoughts, and he takes this as a perfect opportunity to drag you along with him to the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress and swings you over his knee.

“Stop!” you yell loudly this time, trying to pry away, but he was holding onto you tightly.

“Shut up,” Jungkook growls, his voice immediately changes into a much deeper, hoarser tone. He, once again, grabs your jaw and forces you to tilt your head up, making you look directly into his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, little girl. You do nothing but run your mouth all over this goddamn house.”

Jungkook was angry. The pads of his fingertips dig deeper into the skin of your jaw and lower cheeks, causing your lips to form a pout.

He clicks his tongue, “Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. If you think that I’m going to let you go so easily, I’m afraid that you’re wrong, dear. I’ve finally gotten you between my teeth!” he exclaims sarcastically, although the sour tone of his voice makes you cringe.

“You think you’re the shit, huh? Wanting attention so bad that you sneak out at midnight to fuck a disgusting pig. Am I right, Y/n?”

“How fucking—” you shake and try to wiggle yourself out of his grip, offended by the words he said. You wanted to punch him yet cry at the same time. “How fucking dare you!” Facing him with tears slowly welling up in your eyes, “I-I do not— Yeonjun’s not… ugh!” You dig your nails into your palm from the raging frustration that was filling your mind and body. You kick your legs up and down, but Jungkook was not having it. He isn’t letting you go any time soon because he constricts your wrists together behind your back, tighter.

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook smirks menacingly, “Relax, little girl, relax. You’re safe now in daddy’s arms. Perhaps that Yeonjun boy has gotten in your head a little too much, hm? Don’t worry, daddy will fix your attitude.”

Without hesitating at all, Jungkook pulls your skirt down, revealing your lace panties all to his eyes. His warm hand rubs your soft flesh, squeezing it here and there. He knows that you like it. He knows that you’re only keeping this little act up to seem tough. But he sees the way your eyes dilate whenever he says a word that triggers you, that triggers you in a way that’ll make you surrender to him.

Take the kitchen scenario, for example. With one word, with a specific act, you were melting for him. He knows that you absolutely can’t get enough of him, and he loves to play with your mind.

He was completely aware that it wasn’t Yeonjun or anything else that makes you act like this; acting like a little monster. It was all because of him; he’s the one responsible.

And he’s the one who will fix you.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook’s tone turns softer, more delicate. He hits your ass once, twice, before cooing you with shushes.

You slowly get hazy, the spiteful and bratty part of your brain switches off. A shiver runs throughout your system when he wraps his hand around your neck. Flashes of the kitchen scenario fill your mind; how submissive you turned for him so swiftly. Your consciousness knows that you’re doing it for a second time.

“Where’s my good baby girl, hm? Where’s that little girl that I love so, so fucking much?” He says through gritted teeth at the last sentence, spanking your butt again.

His thumb rubs soothing repetitive circles on your skin, disregarding how firm he was choking you. You close your eyes, sniffing a little, somehow feeling tranquility in his grasp.

You release a pain-filled mewl when he purposefully presses his thumb against the giant reddish-purple hickey on your neck. Jungkook’s cock hardens beneath his sweatpants, forming an obvious outline as each second passes.

He was enthralled by you. The way you move and the way you behave for him was addictive to see. “Yeonjun, huh?” Jungkook grins, “What’s this hickey for? Little girl?” Jungkook laughs as he lands another critical spank, causing your body to slightly jolt forward. “Is this his way of ‘marking’ you, hm? Claiming you as his own?” he doesn’t stop giggling from his own words, mocking you with a bitter attitude.

“How pathetic, don’t you think? You allow yourself to be ‘claimed’ by a random dude you just met. Are you proud of yourself? Oh, I bet you’re very delighted that you’ve finally found attention from a boy.”

He chokes you harder, pressing his thumb firmer against the hickey. The pain shoots throughout your body, making you quiver and close your eyes. However, you don’t respond. It was too humiliating to admit that his words were surprisingly true.

Without a warning, he hooks his index finger along the waistband of your panties and yanks it down. You sharply inhale through your nose, chewing down on your bottom lip as you feel two slender fingers play with your wet slit. Jungkook groans lowly from how wet you are, watching your pussy clench and unclench around nothing.

“But you… oh you, Y/n—” he flips you back up and positions you to sit on his thighs, straddling him. Jungkook tilts his head and raises both of his brows, looking at you with disbelief.

He exhales his words out, “You don’t know how to hide that skanky hickey of yours. Have you ever thought about covering up your hickey just as any other teen with a working brain, you slut?”

Jungkook’s vicious, barbed words hit you like a truck. You look away from him, but he was quick to place a finger on your chin. He flicks his finger up, your head joining the gesture.

As his tongue dances along with his plush bottom lip, he places his hands on your hips and squeezes thoroughly. His eyes rake your body up and down, your exposed cunt exposed to him.

“Hickeys 101, Y/n. Conceal and disguise your hickeys if you don’t want to be caught,” he smirks, “but of course you wanted to be caught. You wanted all of this to happen.”

“I don’t care.” You shake your head, trying your hardest to force a poker-face, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. His hands were toying with your waist, tapping his fingertips on your dressed skin. Why does he have to mess with your mind like this?

Sensual. Your stepdad reeked sex appeal and you hate yourself for loving it so much. His senses stick to you like a shadow you can’t escape, his aura addicting, and you want more of it.

He pulls you closer, hands on each side of your face. His nose was a millimeter away from your own, and you can feel his hot breath fanning your face. That awful smirk doesn’t wipe off of his face. He looks at your lips, then back to your eyes. As much as he was admiring your beauty, you were doing the same.

Jungkook was undoubtedly handsome. Perfect, strong features that no man in your liking can ever compare. His luscious, long hair with wavy strands here and there frames his face, encompassing his flawless appearance.

There’s no way you will ever say no to him.

He kisses you. Pressing his lips against yours, he kisses you so gently that you forget that he’s supposed to punish you. The kiss was tender and soft, a kiss like he would give to a girl’s first time.

‘You’re kissing your stepdad, idiot.’ A voice at the back of your mind says. However, easily disregarding that conflicting thought, Jungkook pulls away before you can even take the kiss to the next level.

“Little girl, oh, baby,” he laughs, “I’m going to hurt you. I’m gonna fucking bruise you until I can see tears in your eyes.”

He easily throws you on the bed and he starts to strip himself down to his boxers. There was an evident fear written across your face, hugging your knees to your chest as you watch his dick grow beneath his underwear.

“Take your fucking shirt off,” he growls, “Take everything off. Now.” His natural dominating presence allowed you to obey him quite easily. You did as you were told, keeping eye contact the whole time just to tease him. Sucking your bottom lip, you hide your sly grin.

Jungkook stands tall from the edge of the bed, his honeydew skin being a perfect contrast with his dark hair. He palms himself through his boxer briefs, not having any hesitation at all. His eyes never leave you as you take off every piece of clothing from your body. You felt a little insecure, yes, but you gulp that nervousness down your throat.

However, as soon as you took your top off, Jungkook caught a glimpse of more hickeys scattered all over your chest. This sight causes him to tilt his head back with an exasperated sigh.

“Crawl.” He motions with his index and middle finger a ‘come here’ motion, “Crawl to me, little girl.”

You get down on all fours and do as your told. He smiles with a content look on his face, but was soon replaced with a seductive gaze, “Did you have sex with that boy?”

“W-What? No, I didn’t!” you answer quickly, shaking your head.

His throbbing cock was right in front of your face. Aside from it still being covered with his underwear, you can spot how it twitches then are there. He holds your head with both of his warm hands, “Tell me, little girl. What are you?”

Your mouth gapes open but no word comes out. With your mind filled with lust and desire, you couldn’t understand what he meant.

Jungkook pulls his cock out, but he doesn’t let you see it at first. He holds your head up and won’t even tolerate you taking a glance.

“You don’t know what you are, huh?” he scoffs bitterly, “I knew you wouldn’t. What’s a girl like you anyway, right?”

Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest.

“Repeat after me, Y/n. I am a whore.”

You whimper, pouting your lips.

“C’mon, don’t say it’s too degrading for you, whore. It’s the bare fucking minimum for me. Don’t you want me to be proud of you?”

Oh, he knows what he’s doing to you. He knows and of your weaknesses and he’s been using those against you. But you – you were naïve enough to notice that.

“I’m…” you blink rapidly, “I’m a whore.”

He snarks whilst stroking your luscious hair, “Louder.”

Jungkook ignores your whines and waits for you with a quirked eyebrow. His patience was wearing thin and you were walking on thin ice right now.

“I’m a whore.” You repeat loudly this time, the words sinking deep into your soul.

He leans down and slants his head, “And what do whores get, hm?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Jungkook wraps a big hand around his thick cock, aligning the tip in front of your mouth. You gasp. “They get their bratty mouths stuffed with dick.”

There wasn’t even a warning as Jungkook shoves his dick down your throat, making you gag and choke harshly around his girth. Jungkook growls deeply, his eyes rolling back to his head.

Your saliva starts to drip down to your chin as he face-fucks you, not giving you the time to breathe nor to adjust to his long length. With one hand, he creates a makeshift ponytail and pushes your head farther down his dick.

The whimpers you made out of protest didn’t even work, because the vibrations it caused pleasured him even more.

“Mhmm, that’s right, struggle for me,” he moans, watching your eyes filling up with tears. “This is where you belong, whore. Right at your stepdad’s mercy and submission. You don’t get to choose what you want because I owe you. I control you.”

Jungkook further fucks you as his hips thrust back and forth with no remorse. Gagging sounds fill the entire room and it just turns him on increasingly.

“Look at me. Look at me!” he grunts as he pulls his dick out. He watches a single tear fall down your cheek, making his mouth form another devilish grin.

He leans down to grab something from the floor, but you don’t notice.

“You’re such a mess, little girl. Just what daddy wants you to be.”

Jungkook takes his shaft and abruptly slaps your cheek with his dick. He hits your flesh a couple of times, humming in delight.

In a swift, quick second, you suddenly feel a hard and raging sting on your right ass cheek from an unexpected impact. You cry out loud, shutting your eyes from the pain you experienced without a notice.

His belt.

The harsh leather material instantly caused redness on your delicate, soft skin. Jungkook whips you again, triggering a downpour of tears. You release incoherent noises every time he spanks you, for every hit was harder and sharper from the last.

“You’re a naughty, irresponsible little girl.” He declares alongside another hit. He makes sure that each cheek was covered in red belt marks. His cock stands tall before you, drenched in your saliva as it leaks precum. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it and he takes this into account.

Another hit, he puts all his strength in, making you inhale a sharp breath. Jungkook takes this shot to plunge his dick deep back into your mouth, pushing past your gag reflex as you struggle for air once more.

Your pussy was awfully drenched and you can feel your wetness drip down from your slit and onto your inner thighs. You’ve never been this wet before, and it was insane that it’s all because of your unquestionably hot step-dad.

It was like you’re in a porn video. No matter how rough he was fucking your face, you enjoyed it and you were moaning as he obliterates your throat.

Jungkook pushes his cock deeper, your entire body twitching from the foreign feeling. “Stay there, stay there,” he rasps, “Stay there and take my big fucking dick down your little throat. Yes, that’s right, ohh fuck.”

Every muscle in his body flexes as he tries to keep you still. "This is all you're good for, slut. You deserve to be used for pleasure from a man. You're nothing but a cockwhore." His biceps harden as he puts your head in place, abs tight. He leans forward and encloses your poor head with his strong thighs, securing yourself to his dick.

With another crack of his belt onto your ass, you cry. Jungkook admires the sight of chaos he’s created. Once he was satisfied with the look of you, he pulls out.

This is what he likes; messy and all wet. A string of saliva connects from your lips and to the tip of his dick. You try to catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling so sharply. Looking up at him with red, pitiable eyes, you give him a sullen expression.

“You see what you did there, little girl? Hm? Now tell me again, what are you?”

This time, you don’t hesitate.

“I’m a whore.”

“Yes, you are. Yes, you are, baby. You’re daddy’s little whore.”

Your mind turns fuzzy once again. It was clear that you were not yourself anymore. If you weren’t drunk in lust, you wouldn’t let this happen and you absolutely wouldn’t allow him to handle you this way.

But then again, it was too difficult to not succumb to him.

“Cute little thing,” he murmurs beneath his breath. “Bet your pussy taste fucking delicious. Go on, turn around for daddy and let him see.”

Your cheeks blush once you’ve obeyed his order and your cunt was exposed all for his eyes. Feeling a hand run down your sore ass, you whine as his fingers trail down your inner thighs, purposely ignoring your needy pussy.

Jungkook was biting his lip so hard that he can almost draw blood. Ever so slightly, the pad of his thumb glides across your wet slit, lightly pressing against it. “Jungkook,” you whisper, wiggling your butt for more.

“Oww fuck!” you drop your face on the mattress when Jungkook slaps your pussy unanticipatedly. Legs quivering in need, you bite down on the sheets.

“Surprised that you don’t know how to address me, Y/n.” In a quick motion, he pushes two fingers inside your sopping entrance.

Already feeling full, your back painfully arches as you attempt to take his fingers that were thrusting in and out so boldly. Suave movements of his digits caused a chill down your back, feeling too much euphoria at once.

“What’s my name again?” he inquires before using his thumb to rub on your throbbing clit.

“Daddy,” you reply quickly, not wanting to be punished further.

“Good girl,” he chuckles, “that’s what a good girl should do; follow instructions without having to tell twice. You just love taking orders, don’t you? Huh?”

“I-I do,” your face heats up immensely, stomach churning.

Jungkook hums approvingly as he spreads your ass cheeks apart with his hands. You can feel the heat radiating off of his face as he leans into your cunt. With a bold lick of his tongue, your body shivers as the strong muscle toys with your folds.

“Oh, please,” you moan, “that feels so good.”

“Really now?” Jungkook gathers a bunch of his saliva and spits it down on your cunt, making it wetter and lubricated than it already was. He takes your clit into his mouth and sucks profusely, licking and biting here and there. The sound of your moans fueled his hunger for your cum, but he was not letting you go so easily.

His tongue flicks your clit without mercy before inserting two fingers inside your hole once more. He feels your walls flutter around his digits, signaling your upcoming orgasm.

He pulls away completely.

Jungkook ignores your cries and how you bucked your hips to him, wanting more. He instructs you to lay down on the bed with your back against the headboard. Grasping the belt in his hand, you swallow the formed ball down your throat as you watch him crawl to you – like a predator hunting for its prey.

“Pretty,” he mumbles to himself, eyeing you up and down. He kneels before you and grabs your neck, pulling you to him. If it weren’t for his lewdness and obscure actions, then you would say that his smile was sweet. But you know for a fact that his mind was thinking of different ways on how to torture you.

Your eyes widen as he wraps the black leather belt around your jugular, using it like it's a dog collar and leash. “What are you – ohh…” Jungkook tightens the belt not enough to suffocate you, but enough for you to feel that it’ there.

“Gotta hide that hideous hickey of yours, little girl. The more I look at it, the more I remember how much of a slut you are for that boy. Tell me, can Yeonjun make you feel the way I make you feel?”

"No," you meekly reply with a little shake of your head. Nothing will ever compare to what Jungkook makes you feel than any other.

He wraps the belt around his fist and tugs on it, causing you to jolt forward, face closer to him. His nose barely grazes against yours. "Tell daddy you're sorry."

"B-But..."

He tilts his head in confusion, surely not expecting you to reply with anything else than a simple 'sorry.'

"But what?" he nags, slowly growing annoyed.

"I didn't mean to do it with Yeonju—".

*Slap*

His hands collide with your right cheek, slapping your face with no remorse, making you release a loud whimper of pain. Jungkook growls and roughly holds your cheek, making you pout. Your eyes instantly tear up from the stinging pain, and Jungkook leans to your ear to whisper; "Say. Sorry."

He releases his grip on your cheeks so you can answer properly, "I'm sorry...daddy."

"Good girl," he says simply before leaning in to give a tender, wet kiss on your lips. He smiles before you, eyes turning into little crescents with dark irises staring directly into yours, "Have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, what've you learned, little girl?" he caresses your reddened cheek, "You promise to be good from now on and obey daddy?"

"I promise." You reply in an almost inaudible whisper. Thankfully, it was enough for Jungkook.

However, he wasn't done with you. He was yet to put his dick inside your pussy. Thanks to his strong build, Jungkook easily flips you around on your stomach, making you lay flat on the bed. He hovers on top of you with his dick in between your butt.

Grabbing your wrists to secure them behind your back, he takes his shaft with his other hand and aligns his cock to your dripping pussy's entrance.

"Want my cock?" Jungkook asks with a raspy voice, turned-on from the sight of your bruised butt with the combination of your sweet cunt, the folds all wet and ready for him.

"Mhm, please put it in me..." you insist politely.

Without hesitating, Jungkook pushes his tip inside your heat. "God, fuck," he chuckles, moaning right after, "you have such a tight pussy. So fucking tight and wet for my dick. Mhmm..."

Your pussy walls inevitably flutter around his girth once he had his whole tip in, and you can’t help yourself but twitch and squirm. Jungkook finds this endearing.

“Daddy,” you mewl, “please put it all in me.”

‘Well, if you said so.’ Jungkook thinks before shoving his whole length in. Ignoring how your back arched and the loud yelp you released, Jungkook thrusts his dick in and out of your pussy so good like he was a sex-god.

His dick is covered in your juices as he rubs his precum all over your walls, getting you all nice and extra-lubricated for him. Your moans motivate him to continue, his primal instincts were ultimately getting the best of him.

“F-Fuck,” he stutters, biting his bottom lip. It has been a while since he’s felt pussy wrapped around his cock, consequently, he ravishes on the sensation he missed so fucking much. “You’re being so good taking my dick, mhmm, you like it deep inside that young pussy?” he asks with a tint of mockery in his tone, “I bet you’re the type to prefer older men’s dick.” His thrusts were getting rougher and rougher, deeper, making you feel so full. His words were like honey, despite how lewd they are, the way how he spoke to you made you addicted.

Jungkook holds your wrists tighter, nails digging down your skin. “I know your little boyfriends can’t satisfy you. That’s why you only want my cock, correct, little lady?”

“M-Mhmm,” you respond as his balls clap against your ass.

You’ve never felt more euphoric in your entire life. Only vulgar and lecherous sounds can be heard and you never want it to stop. His fervent, erotic moans sounded so hot made you milk his cock even harder. And it worked; Jungkook feels you tightening, clenching and unclenching.

Pounding you like this from behind, all submissive for him was feeding onto his dark, domineering desires. Getting you all for himself was easier than he expected.

“Do you want to cum?” he flips you around and starts fucking you in missionary, the new position makes you throw your head back as his cock hits your g-spot over and over again.

You mouth the word ‘yes’, having no energy to form a coherent word.

Jungkook chuckles, lifting both your legs up to his shoulders, creating more leeway for him to move deeper.

“Ohh my god, just like that!”

“Yeah?” He presses his body to yours, sweaty bodies pressed together. Without wiping away that smirk of his, he brings his mouth to yours to kiss you one again.

You felt a sensory overload. With each hard, delicious thrust, you keep moaning into his mouth that you can’t even give him a proper kiss. “I-I’m gonna cum, daddy,” you sob, “I’m gonna cum!”

“Hold it.” He snaps, “Hold your cum. Wait for my instructions.”

His breathing was getting unsteady, you feel your room getting hotter and hotter with each second. All you can think of was his cock drilling inside your cunt. His long hair drapes from his face and the tips were slightly ticking your cheeks. The veins in his neck were protruding, making him look ten times hotter.

His cock was making you dumb. You can almost forget that he was your stepdad – for he was just an older man you lusted for.

“Be a good cockslut for me, m’kay baby? You’re already a good girl for letting daddy take control over you. I’m gonna let you cum as a reward.”

“Mmnggg, please!”

With his hand, he grabs your belt-clad throat and squeezes hard, making you see stars. Your toes curl up from this specific action.

“Open your mouth.” He says in a hurry, teeth gritted together, “Open your slutty mouth.”

After a second that you parted your lips, Jungkook spits in your mouth unexpectedly. This made you wild. You didn’t dare to close your mouth and swallow his already existing spit because you wanted more. “Ohh, I see what you want,” Jungkook snickers, “filthy little whore. Swallow and I’ll give you more.”

Subsequently, he praises you with words that made you blush. He gives you another load of his spit, and you consume it immediately. If Jungkook was hard earlier, he was now rock-solid from your freaky behavior he didn’t know you comprised.

“Daddy, please! I can’t hold it in…” your body slightly quivers from the unforgiving impact of his cock, squeezing your walls so tightly to prevent yourself from spilling your cum onto him.

Jungkook can’t wait any longer himself, “Cum. Cum on my cock, baby. Do it – oh shit – do it now.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back to your head. You felt an overwhelming drive of euphoria rush through your system as you let yourself loose on his cock. “Jesus Christ, you’re so hot, little girl,” Jungkook groans, “There, there,” he pumps his cock faster to catch his orgasm.

"Daddy's gonna cum inside your mouth," Jungkook's cock twitches instantly from the thought, "Imma spill my seed deep inside your throat. You're not wasting any spills, little girl, you're lucky to even get a taste of my cum. For a slut like you don't deserve a single shit. A-Ahhh fuck, y-you’re lucky your so goddamn cute that I – mmngg – couldn’t resist giving you daddy’s cum."

Within a couple of deep, mind-blowing thrusts, he pulls out and crawls over to your face. Automatically opening your mouth to accept his cock, he pushes his length down and past your gag-reflex. “B-Baby, baby, fucking shit,” he grits his teeth, hands clawing at your hair, “Take my cum, c’mon, I know you can. I know you can take this sweet daddy cum. Mhmm that’s a good girl, that’s daddy’s good little girl.”

Your throat contracts and gags as he fills you up, spilling his seed down your pipe. Tears started to fall down your woeful eyes, attempting to take everything that was given to you.

You knew you were going to hell for this – for all of this. But at least you’ve enjoyed yourself and got what you’ve wanted.

It was undeniably crazy how quick he got you into submission. Was it the way that he talks to you, the way he can technically read your mind and identify all of the things you desired, or was it just your daddy issues coming to play?

Whatever it was, you didn’t regret a single bit of this to happen.

Who knows if this will occur to you again; if you’ll receive the same pleasure as this again?

“Come ‘ere, let me wrap you in my arms,” Jungkook whispers after cleaning you up. Nodding, you scooch over to him to allow his warmth to resonate through your naked body.

He is the perfect big spoon. He rests his chin on top of your head, humming a song to soothe you.

Looking outside the window, you see that the sky is painted with variations of orange and red, signaling the arrival of dawn. Your eyes grow big as you examine the time on the wall clock; 4:00 A.M. You have three and a half hours left until classes start.

Jungkook minds how your body tenses. He holds you a bit tighter and snuggles his face into the crook of your neck. Even though he can see those awful hickeys, he turns a blind eye to them.

“Skip classes. Daddy won’t be mad,” he titters, “Although, your mom will be home anytime soon today.”

You emit a gasp, “Wait, today?”

“Yes,” he sneers, understanding the panic in your eyes, “Remember what I told you, Y/n. Hickeys 101, cover—”

“Cover it up.”

After you’ve slept through all your classes for today, you woke up in the afternoon exactly when your mother just arrived from her trip.

Your whole body was sore. You can’t walk straight and your hair was in tangles. Before exiting your bedroom, you went to your bathroom, grabbed your makeup back, and covered your hickeys with concealer.

‘Yeonjun… should I even see him again?’

The makeup did the bare minimum of covering your bruises. It wasn’t the best coverage ever, but it was enough. Parting your hair to the side to hide most of the skin of your neck, you finally went outside.

“Y/n!” your mother exclaims, raising her head after she was scurrying deep inside her bag. “There you are. Are classes dismissed early?”

Your step-dad chuckles behind her as he was carrying the rest of her luggage to the living room. Jungkook glances at you.

“Yes.” You straight out lied.

“I see. Oh! And did Jungkook treat you well?”

You almost choked in your spit.

“Was he good to you?” your mom raises her brows to Jungkook, “Or was Y/n a pain in the ass, babe?”

Your face turns red in an instant. You wanted to laugh from the double-meaning of her words.

“Y/n was a pain in the ass but don’t worry…” Jungkook smirks at you, his eyes hinting a sultry, teasing look, “She’s a good girl nevertheless.”

The way Jungkook looks at you has to be a crime. There’s never a moment where you didn’t feel a single thing whenever he locks his handsome eyes with yours. It was an incredibly intense feeling – a feeling that you know you’ll crave.

“Mm. Okay. You look…” she scans your figure, head to toe. “tired. But anyway, come here and help me unpack. I have tons of stories and gossips to tell!” Your mom exclaims as she sits down on the couch.

Before you can even approach her, Jungkook grabs your right arm and puts you in front of him. Afraid that he’ll do something you’ll regret, you pull away – but he shakes his head.

Jungkook puts his index finger in front of his mouth, looking down at you while he whispers, “Shhh,” he leans forward and mouths the next words close to your ear, “Act like nothing happened, little girl.”

#jungkook smut #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #btsguild #bangtansmutcentral

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honoredbastard · 3 years

Text

I COME BACK WITH THOUGHTS/THEORIES ON ITADORI AND HIS RELATIONS- I THINK.

anyways, so i'll just point this out: i'm not good at speaking my thoughts in an organized manner. i absolutely suck at it, i speak on how my brain brings up the thoughts so i might ramble, get over my head in a thought, etc. i can't control it so i apologize in advance for the jumpiness of the texts. i will spell a lot of things wrong and not everything will be correct, as i read translations and on a manga site. don't worry it's not illegal, i believe.

MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD.

i apologize for my absence! last week or two weeks ago the tower to my computer completely broke and will not turn on. i tried to repair it and follow my fathers instructions but nothing worked. even cleaned off the fan and went through countless nights readjusting things. it's not my cords either so to help me out my father is working extra shifts to get me a new pc. so in the meantime i'll do small posts like these but not full writing/head canons until i have a computer tower lol. a family member was kind enough to allow me to have their phone while we work throughout this issue.

now onto the actual topic:

kenjaku and itadori's relationship. ( family wise ).

for context in the most recent chapter, 160 "colony" kamo shows up in sasaki's home and talks to her about the culling game and a barrier. but that's not the point, the point is as he's guiding her to the barrier inside her "dream" at the end he says "oh right. i almost forgot to tell you. thank you for getting along with my son." and then she is awakened inside the barrier, in her pajamas beside iguchi. when sasaki and iguchi look at the barrier and gather themselves they bring up kamo.

sasaki asked iguchi if he mentioned his son and he says no. this leaves sasaki in a state of confusion when itadori flashes in her mind. she says his name aloud like she finally connected the dots. now. why am i bringing up this whole kenjaku thanking sasaki for being his "son"'s friend. it throws me off because why didn't he thank iguchi?

did he not think iguchi meant their friendship? because sasaki was the one uninjured and still counted itadori as a friend? does iguchi not consider itadori as a friend anymore?

because we haven't seen these two at all since the incident. that raised many questions in me. as well "how can itadori be related to kamo?" and itadori is related to choso.

because kamo's technique is explained ( vaguely. we are aware he can create barriers, take over bodies, and has incredible cursed tools. chapter 134. this is also where choso makes his connection ( i believe. ) to itadori yuji as his brother. but because we saw this with todo many thought itadori just had another unconsious technique that allows the person who is hit create false memories and believe of a completely made up relationship with itadori without his knowledge. but alas, i was wrong. ) and we're given more hints shown than told ( imo ) i tried my best to make sense out of the situation and what he said. i think my conclusions are pretty solid, so continuing on.

we're given very little history on itadori, his past, and family. at the start of the manga we know that itadori's only family he knows is his grandfather and that he is ill in the hospital. at the very very beginning we learn that itadori is your average cute, fluffy, laid back but strong and goofy protagonist. in smaller words: itadori is kirby but even cuter and dumber.

my first impressions of him is a pineapple. if you're confused to this saying: it's calling a person prickly on the outside but sweet on the inside. and this is true, itadori's grandfather seems prickly and cold on the outside but he genuinely cares for itadori.

he raised itadori for all we know and did that with his all in assumption. but this ends up backfiring onto itadori, because he cares so much for his grandson - he ends up leaving a " curse " on yuji.

help people. save them.

itadori takes this to heart as his grandfathers speech is his last one. when he looks over to his grandfather the man is dead and now yuji is left alone. then the following events occur.

at this point in time i assumed itadori was an orphan ( he technically is if we're connecting the dots. his parents has not been shown, he doesn't speak of them, they aren't in the picture. we can conclude either they disowned itadori or died before he could make complete memories of them. )

but when we are shown in chapter 143 itadori's parents we see this "woman" jin ( yuji's father ) and his grandfather talking about has the same scar pattern. this scar pattern is either stitching ( assuming that is how kamo keeps the top of the opened skull from coming off. this is also how kamo revealed his cursed technique / body of sorts ( the brain, assuming that is kenjaku in his cursed technique and not the body / puppet he is controlling " getou suguru " ) to gojou. )

this is the only way i find kamo being able to assign itadori as his son. why is that you might be asking this dumbass here.

we do not have the full story, exact date, location, and full context of the memory/dream itadori is having. this cannot be fake either because kamo would than have no reason to call itadori his son. or is there? anyways.

take a leap of faith with me. imagine that before itadori is born ( he seems no more than a few weeks or days old in this memory. hence why i am thinking my conclusion is pretty solid in theory. but yknow gege, there might be something different. ) anywhooo.

TW. D3ATH/IMPLYING ANTI LIFE ATTEMPT

kamo had to have taken over yuji's mothers body after an accident OR after she gave birth to yuji. his grandfather is interrupted by her before he can finish his sentence but it seems to be leading to the conclusion that either kaori ( yuji's mother ) died while giving birth to yuji or kaori could not conceive and tried to take her own life or cause an accident that would take her life. ( i read a fan translation for this part but im pretty sure i also read the official translation today too and it added up to the same. )

i believe in the first idea, but since kamo's cursed technique wasn't explained in detail i don't know the conditions of his body technique. does the original host of the body have to be dead? can he regenerate body limbs ( i highly doubt. getou lost an arm during his fight with yuta. overconfident dick. reminding me of an ex ANTWAYS. i forgive him for being overconfident smooch. he learned. OFF TOPIC but continuing on i promise.

this is being continued from the cut off point. i'm so upset so it'll just be summarized. i can't believe this shit lol i took three hours just to finish it for it to literally cut off the bottom half.

continuing on in a sadge mood. kamo must not have the complete ability to take over a body. after all getou took his only arm he had as he was dying and choked his own body to his full ability. getou was willing to die ( possibly, you never know he could be alive if he killed his own body. moving on. ) just to have the chance to save his friend from being swallowed by a damn box.

so there has to be a chance that kamo cannot fully take over the previous persons complete consious and memory of their body. if getou still had his other arm after losing the fight to yuta, he could've choked kamo with both arms. in theory kamo wouldn't be able to control the right arm and die to the previous host choking him to death.

so why wouldn't the other hosts do it? after all, kamo did say it was his first time experiencing such a thing. assuming kamo has lived throughout many bodies in his 150+ lifespan none of the previous hosts could take control of their body.

i believe getou was completely influenced by gojou and his six eyes. there is no way gojou would even try to speak out to his friend unless he had an inkling or saw getou still in there. helpless and without the ability to save himself from the cage he's in.

being used and puppeteered in his own body by an external force. laughing in the world he could not. putting getou into a constant misery and defeat that he couldn't escape his hell. the one he tried so hard to fight and get out of. even if it was the wrong path.

gojou was the last person to witness getou dying. he had to watch getou bleed out after their conversation because he couldn't bring himself to kill his friend. the one he spent his whole jujutsu student life with. so for gojou to say such a thing to getou despite all that he did had to break getou out of his misery and give him that small sliver of hope that he could do something. of course he failed, but i doubt that's going to be the end of that.

the only way i see kamo being related to yuji is if he took over kaori's body before the pregnancy. assuming that when kamo takes over a body he becomes one with said body and is that person for however long he lives in said body. my only thing is, can he take over a persons body whilst they are alive? i would go more in depth like i did the last time but i am extremely upset about my work being erased so that's the end of this part.

thank you for reading! i have one more thing for you though.

the last time we see sukuna in a manga page after the shibuya incident is where he is on his throne and in his domain. this is after yuji is stabbed by yuta and is presumed "dead" at the time. he seems to be interested in yuta and i can think of 2-3 things. I would love to hear your theories too so don't be afraid to barge into my dms like the koolaid man.

A - sukuna is interested in Yuta because of his ability to use the reverse healing technique ( only a few sorcerers know this. sukuna being the first. shoko being the second one to be told that she has this power and then gojou. ) because of this he sees potential in yuta as well or has added this boy into his plans. after all, there is very few that can make sukuna make an expression that isn't an RBF. aka megumi and possibly gojou. I was looking at the page of him stabbing yuji and noticed we only see the entry point of where the blade enters. it's smaller because some got chunked off so its a possibility yuta used this to his advantage when "killing" yuji and instead hit an artery that could kill him but quickly healed him afterwards. or just his heart. the ideas.

B. Rika, Yuta is able to completely control Rika as shown. Even though he claims he is on the weak side, these two combined seem like an unstoppable force. He may be interested in Rika as she is a curse that has been put on someone that can fully control it. Not many people is shown to be able to control their curse. As we haven't met many.

this was enti and that's the last of my post! thank you for reading and it was a fun one. even though i had to restore this shit. anyways, i'd love you to add or fix up my ideas and tell me your thoughts and opinions! Thanks a bunch!

^ this is for pure humor

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guiltysecretpasttime · 3 years

Note

Consider the idea of Lin /Bumi badly timed proposals"? (just a humble linumi shipper loving your fanfics)

Note: Here's my belated response to this prompt. It ran away from me again until I struggled to close the story out. Hope you like it!

One-shot Post-canon AU Lin x Bumi II

Also on AO3.

---

Outside of the military, Bumi was known to be the spontaneous one. The Avatar’s child who was the most likely to get into trouble. Or get into an adventure, as his grinning father would correct. He was the kid who took quickly to throwing fruit pies to the air acolytes. He was the teen who travelled to the next city because there was a Pro-bending competition happening there. As an adult, he was also the one who tried (and succeeded in) applying for the United Forces on a whim.

It was not often that Bumi would plan for anything linked to his personal life.

This was why, on the weeks leading up to that Night (with a capital N), he felt out of his depth. He did what he did best and tried to plan as he would regarding a military campaign.

This was why he thought he was assured of success.

What he did not count on was the extraneous factors, which was their extended family and social circle.

That – and the weather.

---

“Booms -I’m sorry, it’s not going to work out.” Iroh’s voice crackled over the telephone. “That downpour wouldn’t make anything stick long enough to be legible.”

Bumi sighed as he peered at the window of Tenzin’s study. The waves did crash unpleasantly against the edge of Air Temple Island as the rain fell. “Well, we can still move it tomorrow, right? You and the boys are still free?”

“Of course, provided that the weather is better. As for our availability - ,” Whatever Iroh said was lost as the line crackled again as it was wont to do when the weather was poor. Bumi clicked his tongue. Tenzin really needed to have some repairs made in this temple. “- So after that, we can definitely pick it up for you.”

“Great!” Bumi could care less if they need to adjust the timing a bit – as long as it pushesthrough.

He did not need the details.

---

Or maybe, he should have probed for more details.

The retired commander saw that now as he watched visitors mill around Air Temple Island.

Various air acolytes and airbenders from the different temples now crowd the usually empty courtyard.

How was he to know that it was time for the anniversary of the return of the airbenders? He did not even know there was an identified datefor that.

Or maybe, he would have known had he listened to Tenzin’s lectures.

He scratched his chin, pensively, wondering if this might change anything when something cold and wet lashed at his behind.

“Hello, Bumi.” His sister walked over, a water whip formed at her side, grinning as she usually did.

“Mother said you shouldn’t hit people.”

“Mother said a lot of things that you didn’t follow.” Kya crossed her arms mockingly. She nodded to the entrance of the residential building where their mother stood, surrounded by her youngest grandchildren.

He understood. They never could begrudge their mother anything, especially now with her waning health.

A sea of green passed in the periphery.

“I see Suyin and her brood are here.” Bumi contemplated briefly if it would have any impact to his plans.

Kya commented. “Did they really have to be always in green?”

“Did you always have to be in blue?”

“Touche.” Kya shrugged. “Though, I needed to be blue to occasionally camouflage in the South Pole if I needed to be stealthy.”

“For what?”

From afar, they see Katara beckoning Kya forward from where she and Pema stood by the stoop of the house. “I’ll go get settled now.”

Bumi excused himself, citing some reason to check on something, which, technically he needed to do.

“Tenzin said nothing formal; nothing big. Just a small gathering.” The loud voice of the Avatar grumbled.

The clinking of metal was heard next before Bumi rounded the corner. “And yet, everyone is here.”

“Chief Beifong!”

“Avatar.” Lin inclined her head in greeting, with blank politeness on her face.

Bumi knew better though – the slight tightening of her jaw and the grip she had on her belt: oh, Lin was irritated.

“What’s up?” Korra toyed with the sleeves of her formal wear, obviously uncomfortable.

“How are your travels?” Bumi interjected, popping beside Lin before she manages any acerbic remark.

“We are travelling in style! I think I could get used to it.”

“I think you already are.” Asami looked on with amusement.

“You’re lucky,” Bumi pointed towards where Oogi and the younger bison were flying around. “Dad had to travel on a sky bison.”

“Mom said it wasn’t pleasant.” Lin wrinkled her nose.

“There! You! Are!” Bolin ran and huffed as he arrived before them, doubling over in the effort. “Wing and Wei just found where the food was being prepared, we can sneak off to get some before the– oh hello Chief Beifong!”

“I did not hear anything.” Lin looked skyward and waved her hand at them.

“Beifong!” Bumi quickly caught up with Lin, who strode off quickly when the teenagers started talking about food. “Are you on duty?”

“Yes.” Lin sighed, putting her hand on her hips then stomping, doing a seismic perimeter check. “I know, but I have to.”

“I’ll look for you later.”

“Alright. We’re a bit stretched – Tenzin did not give us the correct numbers of attendees, as usual.” Her forehead crinkled as she concentrated on the perimeter check. “Good thing the Fire Lord sent General Iroh and some of his men to represent their nation.”

“Oh, that’s what he meant.” Bumi murmured to himself.

Lin glanced at him in askance.

“Iroh.” Bumi did not want to expound further. Lin had a way of ferreting out the truth from him without seismic sense anyway.

Bumi accompanied her like a silent sentinel as Chief Beifong went about doing check to her team and on the island.

They have finally arrived at the main courtyard where the usually unflappable master airbender was fluttering about like a bright orange butterfly, holding several sheets of paper, which no doubt was the program for the day.

Lin groaned when Tenzin noticed them.

“Lin!”

“I better go ahead.” With one final eye-rolling, Lin left Bumi’s side before he could even ask where she will be stationed at the end of the program.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Bumi jumped a bit, startled by Kya once again. “Of course not, my meddling gossipy sister.”

She offered him a drink, which he rightly declined. “What’s Tenzin up to?”

The man was now talking rapidly to the chief of police. They were far enough not to hear them but near enough to see what was going on.

“He’s quite excitable.” The retired military man shrugged. “Thank the spirits for Pema, that woman is a saint.”

“You mean, thank the spirits for Lin,” Kya nodded towards the pair as she took a sip of her drink. “Pema was just about ready to rip her hair off these past days. She was looking quite frazzled earlier and after a drink or two, bam! Out tumbled everything - Tenzin was anxious and has been driving her nuts with all the prep for today’s celebration.” She raised a glass to the earthbender and airbender on the main event area. “But look over there – just a few words from our dear Chief of Police and the man calms down.”

Bumi could not help but tense up as he observed Lin and Tenzin on the platform.

As Lin continued to converse with his younger brother, Tenzin began to slowly deflate. A smile started to form on the earlier stressed airbender’s face and the corner of Lin’s lips upturned, a ghost of a smile.

“I swear – those two, I wonder how it would have turned out for them had they known this was going to happen anyway…” Kya trails off, as though suddenly realizing who she was talking to. “I mean – hey, they’re both in happy relationships and it’s perfect and -.”

Bumi swallowed drily, drowning out his sister’s voice.

He had thought about that occasionally, really. There was nothing to go on and Lin had been upfront about, well, everything so he knew where her heart is.

But, looking at the pair now, at the anniversary of the return of the airbenders, supposedly the pinnacle of all their arguments…

“Booms – don’t do anything stupid.”

Now that snapped him from his maudlin thoughts. “Why is it that everyone thinks I’m gonna do something stupid when I keep quiet? It’s a bit offensive, you know.”

“Bumi, I didn’t mean -.”

No matter, Bumi was adamant that his Plan pushes through.

---

“POP! POP! BOOOM! BOOOM POP! Whiiiizzz! BOOM!”

Everyone on Air Temple Island (and even those at the edge of Republic City) looked up to see fireworks littering the night sky.

“BEIFONG… WILL…YOU… ohmy sweet - is that a ring??? .. ME.” Suyin squealed as she read what the fireworks were spelling out.

There was a cacophony from the courtyard of Air Temple Island as everyone sought to find which Beifong was being proposed to.

From their perches around the island, Iroh and the UF men whooped in success of their mission tonight – deploying the firework proposal.

“OH-MY-BOLIIIIN!”

All eyes were on Opal who was clutching at a wide-eyed earthbender.

“What?!”

Various voices added to the din, shouting different things.

“Bolin did you really?!” Mako pointed up to the sky.

“What – no I did not. I’m not marrying – I mean,” Bolin swiftly turned to Opal. “I would like to marry you.” Then he shouted at Su and Baatar Senior’s direction. “But not now. One day but not now – I mean, I need to talk to Su and Baat – oh shit Su’s gonna kill me.”

Attention turned to Baatar and Suyin.

“Um no,” Baatar shrugged casually, an arm around his wife. “It’s not our anniversary anytime soon.”

Suyin was still being antsy. “Wing! Wei! Did any of you -?” She saw her twins wave up their arms in surrender, wildly shaking their heads as they each held a plate of food. “If that’s not you…”

“Kuvira and Junior –.” Wei.

“That is unlikely.” Wing.

“Huan?” Both Wing and Wei asked, everyone’s heads swiveled to the artistic Beifong.

“Excuse me.” Huan looked very offended, as though it was an insult that someone would be proposing to him in public.

Bumi’s face fell as the Beifongs present began arguing as to who the firework proposal was for and the actual Beifong who the proposal was meant for was nowhere to be seen.

Just then a soft squeal and a sniffle came from Kya’s side.

Pema was holding to her arm. “No-no-no – it’s for Lin, don’t you see? That’s why – Tenzin is leaving me.” Every other word was punctuated with a sniffle. “That’s why they’ve been talking over plans and that’s why – I saw them talk to Jinora the other day. Oh-airbenders-Tenzin is -leaaving me.”

“Ahem, I have an announcement!”

Now, everyone turned to stare back at the platform where Tenzin stood. Behind him, stood two more people - Lin Beifong stood in his shadows, arms crossed, a guard observing the proceedings, while Jinora stood to the side with a nervous smile, hands at her back.

“Ooohhhh!” Pema let out a wail.

“Shh, Pema!”

Bumi froze. There have been still some lingering insecurities that were in relation to his brother that would take a long time to tamp down. With the man’s whimpering wife at the side and his own significant other beside said man, it did not take much to wear Bumi down to his insecurities.

“This has been a long time coming and before anything else,” Tenzin paused at this to throw a significant look at his back. “I would like to say that this is no split second decision, we’ve talked about it and well –.”

No way he was going to let Tenzin take over his plan tonight.

“I will be stepping down soon with Jinora as my successor.”

“LinBeifong, will you marry me?”

Two voices rang into the night, clearly silencing any other words that might have been going on.

Bumi did not care for or did not mind what the reactions of the people around them were. He only had eyes for the earthbender who was gaping at him then looking back at the sky then back at him.

He worried the longer it took for Lin to react.

From his side, Pema sagged in relief against her sister-in-law while Jinora and Tenzin stood at the platform, greeting well-wishers.

Lin, meanwhile, was yet to do anything other than stand still.

“OH – we forgot the most eligible Beifong of today!” Bolin stated the obvious, pointing to the sky and back at Chief Beifong on the stage.

“What are you doing, go get her.” Kya nudged him from the back.

Bumi ran to the stage, almost tripping on his formal robes. “Lin – I’m so sorry – I didn’t think it would be this public – I -.” Lin hated public displays. “I ain’t doing this to pressure, I -.”

Lin gripped his arm to stop him from speaking.

The crowd went silent as Suyin could be heard shushing everyone (“Quiet! We need to hear what her answer is!”).

Bumi’s heart sank as Lin pulled away from him.

This is it. The Rejection.

He could only look to the ground, unwilling to face family, friends and even his former colleagues in the UF.

Suddenly there was a rumble on the ground as Lin extended a leg in front of her and she raised her arms slowly with a grunt.

“YES – BUMI – I – WILL – dear Agni – Liiiin is marrying Bumi!” Su’s shrill voice read out the words etched on the courtyard.

Tenzin groaned, mumbling about the destruction of his courtyard.

“Shut it, airhead. That courtyard has seen worse when you broke up with -.”

Nope, he did not want to hear about their break-up and so Bumi took Lin in his arms and planted a nice long kiss to seal the deal.

He pulled back and was met with a large grin on Lin’s face.

It might not have worked as he expected or planned it to be but at least, he could honestly say that it was -

Mission accomplished.

#linumi #linumi fanfic #lin x bumi ii #lin beifong #bumi ii

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miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

Stitch Your Ragged Wings and Hope to Soar.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 5: Fairytales} |

| The folk tales always speak of those destined for greatness. Heroes alongside their faithful dragons, fighting the ever turning tides against evil. But they're just that, folk tales. After all, what are the chances a border-town apprentice seamstress like Marinette, would ever be offered a different vocation by the recruitment guild. |

| Word Count: 3,428. |

| Warnings/Tags: Kingdom/Fantasy/No Miraculous/Dragon Riders Au, Minor Lila & Adrien salt, Canon Typical lies and manipulation from Lila, Explicit Language/Swearing, and Some Fluff. |

———

| A/N: First things first, the word 'Dragoon' will be used multiple times in this piece and it is spelled that way on purpose (see end notes for further explanation). Secondly, yep! It's a dragon riding/academy au. This is the first piece of the series, which I'm really excited for because I've spent ages worldbuilding for! And for anyone worried about salt mention, it is addressed in this piece but the tag is there because of canon-typical Lila manipulation and lies, plus no Miraculous means no reason for Adrien with his sheltered upbringing to realise she's lying. |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It's been a few days of tense stagecoach travel. And to be fair to Marinette, even she hadn't expected to be declared in the middle of the town square as showing aptitude for a position within the Justice League's armée volante—specifically the dragoon squadrons—thanks to the recruitment guild no less.

Unfortunately, Adrien and Lila had also shown an aptitude. Which, seeing as they all come from the same border-town of Paris, meant they were all trapped inside the same cramped coach space for the excruciating four days journey to reach Gotham Town; the place where they are being sent to attend the dragoon academy, which is technically outside the bounds of the town proper. Seeing as the Gotham Dragoon Academy and Somerset Dragon Range are on the opposite shores of the Gotham river to the town itself.

There's only another half-day until they reach the Mooney bridge and then the Somerset

Dragon Ranges. And luckily, Adrien and Lila have taken to sitting on the same bench, the one facing forwards. Leaving the opposite bench all for Marinette.

Not that having a whole bench to myself for this time will help with whether I can continue to survive as a captive audience for Lila. Marinette thinks to herself, rather disgruntled about this whole situation she's unwillingly ended up in. She was perfectly happily remaining an apprentice seamstress, sewing commissions for Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and the rest of her famous or otherwise clientele, not that fate seemed to care though. Of course, a part of her stipulation she fought the recruiters for, is that along with her studies she can continue her commissions for current and prior clientele alone. Which is to say, better than being completely unable to continue her main hobby and form of stress relief.

The recruiters had also said that baking and cooking would be no problem to practice, as apparently there'll be free reign to "student kitchens" alongside cooking classes so any use of either skill will be "undoubtedly encouraged". Dangerous words, Marinette muses to herself once more, because if I get claimed by a dragon the first thing I'm doing is baking all the dragon dietary-safe treats I can!

“Marinette! What do you think?” Lila asks, voice as cloying as ever.

Marinette startles and half-heartedly smiles awkwardly across at her, “ah, I'm really sorry Lila! I got distracted wondering what kind all of our dragons might end up being and how they might look!” Not, I'm going to love mine regardless of appearance unlike you.

Smiling faux-sweetly, Lila shakes her head. “Don't worry Marinette, I was only saying how we're just like those local fairytales of your town! Three close-knit friends who become powerful and famous dragoon guardians and save the world from the evil destruction of Hawkmoth and his army of shadow dragons! Out of the three of us, I would be our leader, obviously. Since I'm the only one here descended from a dragoon guardian! My grandmother even gave me a token that once belonged to my dragoon guardian ancestor!”

“Wow, you've said it before but I still can't believe how incredible you are Lila! It's going to be amazing training besides you at the academy!” Adrien gushes, gazing at Lila with adoration.

Lila preens at his words. “Thank you, Adrien! But Marinette, since you mentioned what our dragons will be, did you know my ancestor's dragon was said to be the most beautiful of all the dragons in the Justice League squadrons! My ancestor's dragon had orange scales that glimmered red and yellow like flames, and pearlescent white scales along the underbelly. Oh, and the horns were pearlescent white too! Obviously, the dragon I'll get is sure to be a descendant of that dragon and just as beautiful.”

“Wow, no wonder your ancestor's dragon was the most beautiful, they sound absolutely gorgeous! What kind of dragon do you think I'll get, Lila?” Adrien asks, eyes shining with awe and curiosity.

She puts on a show of holding her chin and humming. “Hmm, probably a golden dragon, with shiny scales as bright as the sun!”

“I hope you're right!” Adrien chuckles, “the fairy tales really would be coming true if we both get the dragons you think we will! One with scales of fire, another with scales of gold!”

“It really would.” Marinette echoes weakly, not really believing in her own words.

Lila laughs, “awww don't sound so worried Marinette, your dragon will probably be a plain and drab dragon with some sort of shade of brown, or maybe even grey. But at least it won't be attention-grabbing. So you won't need to worry about people staring and judging or dragons-forbid trying to hurt you for having a prettier dragon than any nobles!”

Marinette smiles, though it turns out far more grimace-like than intended, whoops. “Yeah… that'd be awful. Haha, I'd be really lucky to get a dragon like you described for me, Lila.”

“Oh, I'm so glad you understand, Marinette! Then again, all three of us are besties so of course you'd understand!” Lila titters, crossing her fingers, “we're just like this!”

Screaming internally, Marinette nods and keeps smiling. Dragons-almighty, I'm at the end of my thread here. Hopefully, I'll be able to leave Lila's "friendship" behind at the academy without fear of mine and my parent's reputations being ruined by Lila's mother.

Her attention is briefly taken by the rolling view outside the stagecoach, unable to help herself she mumbles to herself, “the landscape here is so pretty.”

“It is pretty I guess, but not as pretty as my home country!” Lila pipes up, jumping on the new conversation—like a shadow dragon on a sheep.

Marinette shuts her eyes for a second and breathes deeply, chanting internally. The academy will be my fresh start.

———

The academy is not in fact Marinette's fresh start.

It is well past evenfall by the time their stagecoach passes through the gates of the imposing academy. It rounds a large fountain in the centre of the courtyard with a statue of a person encircled by a large dragon. However, due to the darkness and the movements of the stagecoach, any attempts at recognising whom the statue was dedicated after are thoroughly hampered. They roll to a stop before the great stone staircase—where a figure with a smaller giant rat-like creature beside them, is waiting at the top—which clearly leads to the grand front doors of the academy.

Even with the darkness obscuring the view, it's obvious that the academy is a repurposed castle. High stone walls with crenellations and littered towers, a main keep with a multitude of buildings surrounding the inner courtyard. And the most eye-catching of all, the shadowy draconic gargoyles that seem to cling and lurk upon every building.

It's impressive to say the least, certainly the most well-fortified building Marinette has ever stepped foot in her life. Impressive enough that it has her practically clawing to pull out a sketching journal and start creating. However, she's not stupid enough to do that within Lila's presence. No, that'd undoubtedly lead to honey-coated lies and being forced to listen to her prattle on about her wondrous skills and connections to the most prestigious fashion guild in the country.

Marinette startles as the stagecoach door is opened by a footman. She doesn't fuss as Lila exits first, followed by Adrien. As she steps outside last, she nods and smiles at the footman. Whispering as audibly as she can without the other two hearing, she adds, “thank you, sir.”

The footman simply glances at her attire and nods back stiffly.

In the time it's taken to all leave the stagecoach, the figure from the stairs has walked over—a woman with long blonde hair dressed in a casual black leather riding coat, and a not-dog following behind loyally. “Good evening, you must be the potential students from the town of Paris?”

Marinette hesitates for a second before nodding along with Adrien and Lila.

Lila takes a step forwards, towards the woman. “Yes, we are! I'm Lila Rossi.”

The woman nods slowly, “and the other two must be Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, correct?”

“That's correct!” Adrien responds with a bright smile.

Marinette nods and makes an affirmative squeak instead.

“Great.” The woman says, clapping her hands. “I'm Dinah Lance and I'll be one of your instructors during your attendance here. And this,” She pauses to point to the weird giant not-rat with its yellow flecked greyish-brown fur, “is Drake, he's my Ichneumon. You'll learn all about Ichneumon and why they're used within the dragoon squadron during your time here, so don't worry if you've never heard or seen of them before.”

Drake makes a high pitched trill and takes a few steps forward, sniffing the air in front of the three of them. Before scampering in a circle around Dinah Lance.

She smiles fondly at Drake before continuing. “Unfortunately it's a little late to give you the tour of the grounds now, so we'll cover that tomorrow. Tonight we'll guide you to the dining hall for a late night's meal since it's been a long journey for you three or so I've heard, and you must be starving. Then we'll discuss the main details of your attendance, and afterwards, we will show you to the temporary rooms you will be staying in, to begin with. Any questions?”

Lila rocks on the heels of her boots before shaking her head, “no, we've got no questions!”

Adrien copies with a shake of his head too.

Marinette opens her mouth to protest, were you waiting out in the cold for us long? Will the tour teach us about the different places within the academy? Will it take long? What do you mean by the main details? Why are we staying in temporary rooms to begin with? When do our lessons start? Do we need to purchase any uniforms or schooling supplies? When will we meet our dragons? Questions bubbling in her mind like a kettle over the fire, but closes her mouth just as quickly, as she catches a glare from Lila out of the corner of her eye. With that, she also briefly and nervously shakes her head. “N–no, no questions here either, Mlle Lance.”

Internally, Marinette hopes that display is enough to tide over Lila's irritation for now.

Mlle Lance glances over the three of them, seeming to stare at Marinette a little longer than the other two. “Well then, since there are no questions, let us head to the dining hall. And don't worry about your belongings, the footman will bring them to your lodgings.”

“Oh, Mlle Lance, I'd–uh… I'd rather not hassle the staff here, I can manage bringing my belongings up on my own.” Marinette admits, wringing her hands slightly.

Mlle Lance shakes her head, “that's very polite of you but I'm afraid, as you'll be having dinner and we'll be discussing details, it'll be a little while before you head to your temporary rooms. So it'll be far easier on both you and the staff here, if you allow them to do their job.”

“Okay…” Marinette relents easily, trying to ignore Lila rolling her eyes at her.

“If there are no more further questions, then follow after me please, the academy can be rather labyrinthine for those unfamiliar with its halls.” Mlle Lance instructs, already turning around and walking back towards the great stone staircase, Drake on her heels.

———

The journey through the hallways and various anterooms of the academy takes far longer than Marinette could have anticipated. On more than one occasion, she ends up falling behind due to getting distracted by the sheer amount of luxury, art, and finery everywhere. Forcing her to frantically scurry after Mlle Lance, Lila, and Adrien—all three who seem completely at home and unperturbed or uninterested by the décor, unlike her.

By the time they reach the large and ornately carved wooden doors leading to the dining hall, Marinette is flushed bright red from the embarrassment of having fallen behind so many times.

The heavy doors creak loudly as they slowly swing open at Mlle Lance's push, revealing a large dining hall—far larger than any Marinette has seen—with seemingly hundreds of wooden tables and benches. Startlingly enough, there's a boy already seated at one of the nearer benches—eating away at a trencher of hunter's stew.

No Ichneumon in sight, Marinette notes, a fellow student perhaps?

“Good evening, Jason, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be in here at the moment.” Mlle Lance greeted, nodding her head to him.

Jason squints at Mlle Lance and hunches his shoulders defensively. “B said I could grab food from here whenever I wanted.”

Mlle Lance smiles, “and that's perfectly fine. These are new arrivals, so I was just hoping to let them have some dinner without the usual chaos before going over the main details they'll need to know about attending here.” She paused for a moment. “You don't have to stay and listen if you don't want to, since you've heard this spiel many times now. But equally, feel free to stay, I'm sure it'd be nice for you and the new arrivals to get to know each other before meeting the rest of the class tomorrow.”

Jason slowly eyes Lila, Adrien, and Marinette. He places an arm in front of his trencher. “Might as well stay then I guess.”

Mlle Lance nods at him again before guiding the three of them over to the back of the dining hall where the kitchen was connected to. A few cooks were tending to various meals and pots of hunter's stew, as well as prepping trenchers or cleaning wooden bowls, and wood or horn spoons.

Marinette is still half processing everything so receiving a trencher full of hunter's stew from the cooks barely registers in her mind. And next thing she knows, she is seated next to Lila on the end of the bench and table next to Jason, with Mlle Lance sitting opposite her, Lila, and Adrien. The other two have already started tucking into the food, so cautiously Marinette takes a few sips of the stew broth with a horn spoon.

Mlle Lance clasps her hands together and rests them on the table. “Let's start with what you three already know regarding the dragoon squadrons and this academy.”

Pausing in his eating, Adrien grins. “This is the longest standing dragoon academy, and we'll be taught everything from dragon history, to the language of the dragons, to what is known of Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army!”

“And,” Lila pipes up, “we'll pick our dragons that we'll train alongside and eventually become fully-fledged Dragoon Guardians with.”

Jason snorts, “sorry to break it you two but this isn't some fucking fairytale.”

Before Lila or Adrien could respond, Mlle Lance cleared her throat. “Right well firstly, Dragoon Guardians is somewhat of an archaic term I'm afraid. But you're not too far off with what you know.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason pretends to be suddenly interested in his trencher of stew.

Though, Marinette does catch him briefly glancing up at her with a curious but also disbelieving look in his eyes. She can't help but instinctively curl her shoulders in and make herself as small as possible.

“And Marinette, what do you know about the academy?” Mlle Lance adds.

Marinette hesitates, trembling slightly and licks her lips. “Uh, well I know roughly the same as Lila and Adrien, so nothing that hasn't been said already…”

She catches Jason squinting at her, and she curls up even more.

Mlle Lance nods thoughtfully, “to start with, Adrien, you are correct in that this is the longest standing dragoon academy. You're also correct that we teach our students dragon history—including the history of the dragoons—as well as teaching the language of the dragon. We also do teach regarding Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army. However, that will be taught across multiple different subjects as it isn't quite as simple as it may currently seem to you.”

Adrien beams at having been mostly correct. “My father hoped I would be chosen to attend a dragoon academy so he made sure I was taught a general overview.”

“And that's more than most know to begin with, so well done.” Mlle Lance praises, before continuing. “However, Lila, here students do not pick their dragons. The process of meeting the dragon who will be raised and trained beside you, is not what most people think of when they first hear about dragoon human and dragon pairs meeting.”

Lila's lips twitch downwards in dissatisfaction and narrows her eyes slightly at Mlle Lance.

Before anything else can be said, Mlle Lance furrows her brows, “one moment students, a matter has just arisen that I need to quickly take care of.”

With that, she rises from the bench and strides out of the dining hall, shutting the door behind her as she exits.

As soon as the door shuts, Jason, with a concerned look on his face, gets up as well and walks the few steps over to Marinette's bench. Quietly, he asks, “Hey, you okay?”

Marinette swallows a breath of air thickly, and still visibly trembling, laughs nervously. “W-well I'm a little over-overwhelmed, I suppose… What with every—”

Only to slam her mouth shut as Lila wraps her arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close to her side.

“She's fine thank you,” Lila coos, “just not used to all the displays of wealth in the castle, here, isn't that right, Marinette.”

Marinette pales, eyes widening with panic and frantically nods her head. “Y-yep!”

Jason raises an eyebrow at Lila, unable to keep the slight sneer off his face as he turns ever so slightly to stare at her, “and you are?”

Lila perks up at his attention, flipping her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. “Didn't you hear Mlle Lance there, I'm Lila.” She smiles cloyingly at him and flutters her eyelashes. “I'm the daughter of a very important diplomat and one of my ancestors was an incredibly powerful Dragoon Guardian.”

Jason snorts, and rolls his eyes once more. “Right. Whatever.” He turns his attention back to Marinette and gives her a sharp nod. “What shit has the rich brat got hanging over your head?”

It clearly takes all of Lila's self-control to not immediately switch from her faux sweetness to fury. Her smile turns wooden and her gaze sharpens at Jason. “Excuse me?”

“You're excused,” Jason responds smugly.

“W-what do you mean?” Marinette asks, struggling to process the conversation after the slight cannonball that Jason just casually asked her.

He tilts his head at her, not unlike a bird. “She looks, sounds, and acts exactly like the kinda rich bastards that hold shit above kids who aren't rich, and you're clearly fucking petrified of her. So is she blackmailing you or something?”

Marinette mouths yes at him whilst shaking her head.

Jason raises an eyebrow at her for a second before shrugging with one shoulder, “alright.” He turns on his heel and heads back to his table and bench where his trencher of stew is waiting.

Lila gapes at him.

Adrien rises from his seat and stares at Jason, flabbergasted. “Aren't you going to apologise to Lila, now? You were wrong.”

Lifting his chin, Jason gives Adrien an unimpressed look then flips the bird at him. A few seconds pass before he shrugs and makes a non-committal noise of disinterest, then he starts spooning stew into his mouth.

Lila huffs and scowls at Jason. She turns to glare at Marinette, faux concern practically dripping from her words despite the evident fury on her face. “You should avoid him from now on, wouldn't want the teachers to think you're a delinquent and get kicked out before you even get to meet your dragon.”

Marinette nods slowly and keeps her attention very carefully on her food.

Her patience is rewarded as a few dozen seconds later, Lila loses interest in her and starts eating her trencher of stew whilst starting a new conversation with just Adrien.

Taking her chances, Marinette sneaks a glance up at Jason with a small smile on her lips.

To her surprise, he also happens to be looking over at her. He flashes her a cheeky grin, winks, before going back to eating.

Maybe, she muses to herself as her grin turns giddy, I was wrong about the academy not being my fresh start. Because this definitely feels like a fresh start now, it almost feels like I'm in a fairytale.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| The dragon riders are called Dragoons in reference to the mounted cavalry called Dragoons who used guns/firearms known as Dragons hence the name. And so I decided it only makes sense for these dragon riders to also be called Dragoons. Armée volante means flying army and was what the historical dragoons were sometimes known as, because of how mobile they were. |

| Ichneumon, also known as Echinemon in Medieval Zoology are enemies of dragons (and snakes and crocodiles in some accounts) and defeated them by covering themselves in armour made from mud before attacking. They are also one the only creatures (the other being weasels) that are immune to the Cockatrices' petrifying sight. |

| Fun fact: Trenchers are flat round (often stale) bread "plates" used during the medieval era. They are cut in half and sometimes the fluffy bread innards are scooped out (like pumpkins) so that the loaf's crust forms a bowl instead. Usually the bowls are used to hold stews or soups, though they were also used for non-liquid based food (which is why they later evolved into our modern day plates and cheese boards). |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 1 #Jasonette July Day 5 #Jasonette July Fairytales #Stitch Your Ragged Wings and Hope to Soar #SYRWaHtS #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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seawolvesanddragons · 3 years

Text

AWAE 25 Days of Christmas Day 22 “Go on, love birds”

Gilbert was a bundle of nervous energy as he sat in Ms. Josephine Barry’s parlor, a cup of tea growing cold in front of him.

It had been Anne’s idea that they meet at “Aunt Jo’s” house. Gilbert had finally managed the double miracle of having enough train fare for a trip to Charlottetown as well as having caught up on his work to be able to take the trip, and he and Anne had been ecstatic to see each other for the first time in months, if only for a few hours. Since Anne’s landlady only allowed suitors on Sunday afternoons, when Gilbert would be halfway back to U of T, Anne had suggested a bit of subterfuge in their meeting. Aunt Jo’s was an adequate secondary location, since Gilbert had been there before and Aunt Jo herself was apparently a kindred spirit.

Privately, Gilbert had thought it would give them the added bonus of avoiding the prying eyes of the other Avonlea girls. He liked Diana and the other girls well enough, but he hadn’t traveled hours on a train to listen to them giggle and tease him and Anne.

He had completely forgotten Cole McKenzie. Who was now seated across from him in the parlor, grinning at him like the cat who caught the canary and the cream.

“So, you’re here to visit Anne?” Cole asked, just a mite smug. “Last I saw you two, you could hardly stand to be in the same room.”

“We uh - settled our differences,” Gilbert said, stumbling over his words. He was only now realizing he had no idea who from Avonlea knew about his and Anne’s courtship. Diana knew, of course, and her father, and Bash. It hadn’t occurred to him that they would now have to tell people.

“And are such good chums now that you decided to spend a whole day and more on a train ride?” Cole raised a brow. “Must have been some settlement.”

Gilbert nearly choked on his own breath, coughing wildly at Cole’s accidental innuendo.

“I, well-” Gilbert stammered, his ears very red as he tried not to think about just how he and Anne had “settled” their communication fiasco.

“Oh Cole, stop teasing the poor boy,” Josephine Barry chided, sweeping into the parlor. “You know perfectly well Mr. Blythe here is courting our Anne; she told us about it weeks ago.”

“She did?” It was silly, the elation he felt at those simple words. Gilbert’s heart felt like it was dancing a jig.

“Technically, Diana told me,” Cole corrected primly. “Anne mostly sat there, face as red as her hair as she tried to remember how to speak,” Cole gave Gilbert a wicked grin. “I heard you caused quite the scandalous scene in front of the boarding house.”

“I - there was pretty good context for it at the time,” Gilbert said weakly.

“Oh, I am not faulting you for it at all,” Cole said happily. “I’ve been waiting for this development for ages. I told Anne years ago that you had a crush on her.”

“You did?”

Cole nodded. “Back when we all went to Charlottetown for the light bulbs. Right after you two were done your strange flirting as we left the train. She didn’t believe me, of course, even though it was very obvious. You looked at her as if she hung the moon,” Cole snorted.

“Oh,” Gilbert felt sheepish. He had thought he had done a good job keeping his feelings in check until last summer. Apparently, if Bash and Gilbert were to be believed, he had not.

“That was some time ago,” Ms. Josephine said, raising a brow at Gilbert.

“Aunt Jo, I don’t think you would have stood for it,” Cole said, clearly relishing in sharing this tale. “Those two were dancing around each other for ages; it was a wonder Gilbert got any work done in school, he was too busy staring at Anne.”

“I wasn’t that bad!” Gilbert tried to defend himself.

“I sat behind you and Charlie, Gilbert,” Cole reminded him. “You were that bad.”

Cole might have a point there.

“Anyways, I’ve had far too many letters from Diana describing your latest escapades once I was gone,” Cole shook his head. “I’ve yet to get the full story of just what happened after the exams out of Anne, though. I’m glad you got it sorted out, Diana seemed ready to knock both of your heads together in her letter right before the fair.”

“She would have done it, too,” Gilbert shook his head. His opinion of Diana had changed drastically in the last few months. “Your niece can be very terrifying when she wants to be,” he told Ms. Barry.

“I know,” Ms Barry said proudly. “She’s come a long way.” She then swept out of the parlor, calling for Rollings, her departure as grand as her entrance.

Gilbert could see exactly why Anne admired this woman so much.

“So,” Cole’s grin dissipated the moment the older woman left, and he sat forward in his chair, a serious expression on his face. Gilbert felt himself sit up straighter automatically. “You’re courting Anne.”

“I am,” Gilbert said, a little uncertain of where this was going. Cole had always been a very reserved, kind boy, and for the last thirty minutes there had been nothing but cheeky remarks and grins. Now though, Gilbert was remembering that Cole also had attacked Billy Andrews out of the blue once, in a state of fury incarnate. There had been rumors that Anne had been involved over that too, somehow.

“Anne is a very dear friend to me,” Cole said sternly. “She was there for me at a time that no one else would be, and she is the reason that I had the strength and courage to be here now. I care for her a great deal, Gilbert. I would like to see her have the same sort of happiness she has helped me find.”

“I know the two of you had a rough ride to get where you are,” Cole continued. “And though I am quite glad that you managed to meet in the middle at last, I don’t want to hear about any more miscommunication fiascos. Figure it out together, Blythe, because should I ever get any wind that you are treating Anne poorly, or giving her any cause to be unhappy, you’re going to need a doctor yourself. Is that clear?”

“Understood,” Gilbert said hastily. “Truly, Cole, all I want is for Anne to be happy. I am well aware of how fortunate I am to have her in my life, and how foolishly, stupidly close I came to losing her forever.”

“Excellent,” Cole clapped, all smiles and cheer again as if he hadn’t just been threatening Gilbert’s life. Ms Barry returned and Cole carried on reminiscing about their Avonlea school days as if nothing had happened.

All of Anne’s friends were terrifying, Gilbert decided.

At long last, the bell rang, signaling Anne’s arrival. Gilbert sprang to his feet without thinking, his heart racing.

“That look,” he heard Cole tell Jo gleefully. “Every single time she read aloud or beat him in a spelling competition or even just walked through the door, we all had to put up with that look.”

Cole and Bash were never, ever, allowed to meet, Gilbert thought. Then Anne walked in and all other thoughts vanished.

“Gilbert,” Anne said softly.

“Hello Anne,” Gilbert could hardly believe she was finally in front of him.

“Go on, love birds,” Cole called. “I know you’ve been pining Anne, at least give him a hug now.”

“Cole!” Anne cried furiously.

“Come on, Cole, I don’t think we’re needed here anymore,” Ms. Barry said firmly, leading him from the room and leaving Anne and Gilbert alone at last.

“Sorry I was late,” Anne apologized. “At least Cole was able to keep you company. What did you talk about?”

Gilbert considered telling her all about it.

Then he considered it again.

“Oh, just the weather.”

#awae #awae fic #anne with an e #gilbert blythe #cole mckenzie #josephine barry #aunt jo #anne shirley cuthbert #anne of green gables #shirbert #cole mckenzie roasts gilbert for 1000 words #25 days of christmas challenge

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marvelsimp · 3 years

Text

The New Kid: Now or Later

Ch. 7

The New Kid Masterlist

My Masterlist

Genre: fluff, angst

Pairing: Peter & Lesbian!reader, Avengers & Reader, Wanda x Reader, side Steve x Bucky,

Warnings: Panic, panic attack

Description: Reader goes to her first Stark party.

Reader’s Powers: Healer, telepath, and empath.

Word Count: 1538

Tonight is one of Tony Stark’s infamous parties. You, Wanda, and Peter were all invited but you were all threatened for what would happen if you drank. The bartenders even had pictures of all three of you so that you couldn’t trick them.

A few weeks before this Peter, Wanda, and Nat took you shopping to update your closet and more importantly to get you outfits for parties and formal events. You got many beautiful outfits for future events but since this was your first Stark party you decided to get a custom suit. The final price was way beyond what you could ever afford by yourself so you double-checked with Tony. He laughed at you, head tilt and all, saying, “That cheap? I have t-shirts more expensive than that!”

“No! That is not what happened!” You threw chips at your best friend who just told a story. That has many ridiculous additions.

He looked at you with that stupid, goofy grin that’s almost always on his face. “That’s what I remember!”

“You can exaggerate the story a little bit… but that… was NOT a little bit!”

You were hanging out in one of the many rooms on the “Party Floor” with several of the avengers. The party had technically started but not many people were there yet. Peter was telling the story of you getting lost in Queens, aka when he gave you simple directions and you somehow ended up in Times Square.

“Okay! Hush you two!” Sam finally yelled over the teenage bickering. “I still do not understand how the hell you walked to Times Square from Queens in half an hour.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either,” Said Steve, who looked very concerned and most of all lost himself.

“I don’t get it either!” This caused a few snorts and short laughs from the group.

“Ok, but how did you not get caught? That is some spy shit.”

Wanda giggled at your question. “When I was little I thought I was just ‘lucky’ or ‘skilled’ or something but now I’m pretty sure it was a probability spell,” She explained as if it was something so casual. She deemed it as the naivety of a child instead of just the fact that most people at that point in time didn’t believe in spells or witches. “So, моя любовь, what do you want to eat?” She grinned, her nose crinkled like it always did when she teased.

Before you could question the name you heard a cackle across the room. It was terrifying, mainly because it was Nat’s but also because of how sudden and loud it was to hear. Joy. You looked at the woman with bright red hair who had her head tipped back and looked like she couldn’t breathe. “Ok… umm what does that mean? Because now I’m concerned..”

“Come on Nat you’re supposed to be the best spy on the planet!”

“Universe!” Tony corrected. He looked just as confused as you felt.

You could see Bucky smiling and whispering in Steve’s ear. Something that translated from Sokovian to Russian pretty easily, unless they both knew Sokovian which would not be surprising. “Helpful,” you stared at the Bucky who had his arm on the couch back behind Steve, who was now grinning, too. Bucky just winked in response.

Great. You could feel the happiness coming from them but you couldn’t tell because it was funny or cute. Was it because Wanda just insulted you or because she called you something sweet?

You turned back to Wanda who was giving you a mischievous grin. “Don’t make that face.” You grinned back. “I’ll take whatever you said as a compliment. Thank you very much,” you said with a twinge of bitterness but you both knew that it had no real value.

More and more people started arriving, you haven’t been around this many people since before you got your powers. It was starting to overwhelm you. In. One. Two. Three. Four. Out. One. Two. Three. Four. Breathe. Breathe.

You continued the night pretty normally but every once in a while you would pause and take a deep breath. It wasn’t until people started to get drunk that it became a problem.

You were sitting with Peter and Wanda who were retelling their versions of the Sokovia Accords and that whole mess. You were trying so hard to pay attention to listen but you couldn’t. It was finally overwhelming, everyone’s voices, everyone’s thoughts and feelings it was completely overwhelming. You’d basically stopped breathing and all that you wanted to do now was to leave.

It wasn’t until there was a tap on your shoulder that you realized that Wanda had been talking to you. “Y/n/n, are you okay?” Her face, voice, and even her emotions were full of concern. She was worried and she had every right because your breathlessness was turning into hyperventilation. You tried to focus just on her but ever that, she was overwhelming.

You shook your head.

Peter’s attention had turned to you too, “What’s wrong?” He was the same as Wanda, overwhelmingly concerned.

It was hard to even understand him, much less talk. You reached toward him and touched him, making him feel what you felt for just a moment.

“Oh, God! We need to get her out of here,” he turned to Wanda who was ready to do anything.

She gave you her hand and helped you up and then started to escort you to the elevators, Peter was close behind.

“Peter, you stay here and I’ll go with her,” Wanda told him once you arrived at the elevators.

He looked at Wanda and then at you. You were out of it, you were leaning on the witch who looked uncharacteristically concerned. He decided that saying anything wouldn’t help so he nodded and walked away.

Wanda directed you to the now-open elevator and pushed the button to the roof. She put her hand in yours and held on like your life depended on it. As the elevator rose your mind became less and less noisy until you could only feel her. Then the doors opened and she led you out. Your breathing hand slowed down and was only slightly faster than normal. The only person that you could focus on was her. She was beautiful, her hair was blowing in the wind, you could see the mix of brown at the top and the more faded orange at the bottom. She turned to her with that same concern that she’s had for the last five minutes.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “Thank you.” Both of your voices were quiet and despite the loud wind sounding you both, you understood each other perfectly. You were absorbed in her and she was absorbed in you.

Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes were drowning. She took in a deep, sharp breath, and then her arms were around you. She held you close and squeezed you tight. “You’ve been so different since Peter got hurt and I wanted to give you time,” she separated from you and looked into your eyes, “I really did want to give you time but… You feel so fucking far. When I reach out you're always out of my reach. I know that we haven’t known each other for long but we have this.” She paused for a second trying to find the right word. “Connection and I really don't want it to be broken. I have lost so much, my parents, Pietro, my county, Vision, Billy, Tommy, and then Vision again and I don't think I would survive losing you too.”

Tears were rolling down her face and forming in your eyes. You could feel her hurt, pain, sadness, yearning, fear, and everything else she was feeling. Every word she was saying was true, you were different. Sure you laughed and talked and interacted pretty close to normal but you were distant and cold. You were calculating which could be good but it wasn’t you. And most of all you were afraid of losing Peter, Wanda, and the rest of this group that you now call your family but most of all you were afraid of losing yourself. These powers were often overwhelming and these months since you've been kicked out have been hard. They have been the hardest thing that you’ve ever had to go through.

“Y/n,” she cupped your cheek with her left hand. “ Please just talk to me. I’m here and I just want you to be you again. Tell me what’s wrong and I can fix it or help you through it, at least. If you’re not ready to talk I’m still here. I can help even if it’s just as a distraction. Now or later.”

Tears were running down your face too. The girl in front of you understood what you felt. She understands pain and loss and betrayal. All that she wants is for you to be safe and loved just like you want for her. “I can’t tell you. It’s just too much to say.” She followed every word staring intently at you, only wanting to help. “Can we just sit for a while?”

She nodded.

Next Chapter

Dream or reality

Taglist

@wandas-love

#the new kid #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #reader insert #lesbian reader #the avengers x reader

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midnightsnyx · 4 years

Text

Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: part 6

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child.

a/n: well... here it is lol 2(or 3?) weeks late. sorry for the wait, this chapter was just a bitch to write and every time i thought i was done, i wasn’t happy with it & i didn’t wanna post just for the sake of posting. but i stayed up until 2 a.m. to finish this, so technically it is sunday so im posting on schedule lol

im not sure how many parts are left to this story, maybe two or three + an epilogue but i haven’t decided yet.

also, this gif made me feel things 😂

word count: 2.1k (i wish they were longer too but im doing the best i can😩)

warnings: none other than a couple swear words

Part 6

29 weeks

“What are you doing?”

“Researching how to murder someone and get away with it.” You mutter, typing where to buy a tiger in Google.

Becca gives you a wary look and sits next to you. “Everything okay?”

“No!” You groan in frustration, tossing your phone on the coffee table. “Matthew is driving me insane.”

She frowns. “Is he being an ass?”

“He’s being nice. Too nice.” You grumble, ignoring when Becca chuckles. “It’s like he’s trying to make up for missing the doctor’s appointment even though I told him I forgive him.”

Becca raises an eyebrow at you and you try to ignore her pointed look. “Do you though?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask defensively.

“You’re different around him now and I’m sure he’s noticed. It’s like you don’t trust him.”

You start to deny her accusation but stop to think about it. Were you more cautious around Matt lately? You certainly didn’t let yourself depend on him for things that you had been before, too afraid that he would let you down. You wanted to, but there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you that he’s let you down before and there’s always a chance he will again.

It’s as if Becca can read your mind because she shrugs. “You should be honest with him.”

However, something you’ve learned recently is that too much honestly can get you in trouble.

. . .

Sending Matt a text that said we need to talk, probably wasn’t the best approach because it took him approximately fifteen minutes to show up at your apartment and his is a half hour drive away from yours.

So his windblown hair and wide eyes really weren’t a surprise when you opened your front door.

“So, I think I should have worded that text a little better.”

“You think?” He huffs, walking past you when you step aside. He doesn’t even bother to take his shoes or jacket off, walking straight to the living room and turning to look at you.

“I’m sorry. For whatever I did.” He says and you groan.

“That’s the problem! Stop being sorry for things. It’s driving me nuts.”

He frowns and looks at you in confusion. “So… you don’t want me to be sorry for things?”

“I don’t want you to not be sorry for things, I just want you to stop being sorry for everything. It’s like you’re walking on eggshells around me.”

“I’m just trying to make-”

“Make up for missing the appointment.” you say, finishing his sentence. “I know.” your hand falls to your stomach and you sigh. “We’re going to be parents in less than three months. We need to start trusting each other.”

Matt slowly walks over to you and reaches out for your hand which you let him hold. His thumb rubs across the back of it and he nods.

“You’re right.”

You grin and lightly punch his shoulder with your free hand. “Of course I am. When am I ever wrong?”

He smiles, pulling you in for a hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You ignore the way it makes your heart race because the last thing you need right now is your feelings for him to get even more confusing when you’re both finally on the same page.

Things are good now and you can’t risk messing it up.

. . .

31 weeks

He’s like a kid in a candy store, you’ve realized as you follow Matt around buy buy BABY. He has two carts, one already stocked full of things and the other slowly being filled. You stopped keeping count of how much everything costed an hour ago because the number started to make you queasy.

“He has enough clothes, Matty.” You whine, taking note of how Matt trips over his feet when you call him by that nickname. “and he’ll grow out of them before he even gets a chance to wear them.”

“Last one, I swear.” He says, holding up an outfit. “C’mon, how fucking cute is he going to look in this?”

“If his first word is a swear word, I’m going to kill you.” You mutter, taking the outfit from him and tossing it in the cart. Matt just grins and rests a hand on your stomach, hoping the baby will kick.

“How’s Joey?”

“Grayson is doing just fine.”

“We’re never going to come to an agreement on a name, are we?” he asks and you smile sweetly.

“Nope.”

He laughs and starts walking towards the checkouts.

“Did my mom tell you that they’re coming to visit?” He asks and you nod, recalling your conversation with Chantal. She’d called you first to make sure you were okay with the entire Tkachuk clan showing up. She knows how stressful pregnancy is and didn’t want to overwhelm you.

But you were ecstatic when she asked if it was okay for them to visit. You’ve grown to depend on her for any pregnancy questions over the past seven months and even when you needed some regular advice for everyday things, you sometimes texted her.

“Yeah, it’s Wednesday, right?”

Matt nods, smiling politely at the cashier as he starts loading every thing on the conveyor belt. You can tell that she’s a hockey fan by the way her eyes light up when she recognizes who he is.

“I’ve been meaning to ask if you can pick them up from the airport?” He asks, catching you off guard. “Their plane lands around noon and I won’t be back until later that night and I don’t really want them to have to take a cab.”

You’re a little surprised that he’s asking you to do this instead of paying someone or asking a close friend to do it instead. It’s an odd feeling, realizing that he trusts you with his family.

“Yeah, I’d love to.” You tell him and his smile warms you to the bone.

. . .

You show up to the airport forty-five minutes early because you can’t decide if you should wait in the SUV for Matt’s family, or meet them in the airport. Would it be weird to wait for them inside like you would with your own friends or family? You double check your phone to make sure that Matt did tell them it was you picking them up because how weird would it be if they were expecting him only to find you waiting.

You’re definitely over thinking it but you find yourself standing at the gates when their plane lands.

Chantal is the first person you see and her face lights up and she scurries over to you, pulling you in for a soft hug.

“Oh, look at you!” She gushes, taking your hands in hers and holding you at arms length. “You’re glowing.”

Glowing isn’t exactly the word you would use because as much as you tried to look nice to pick them up, you’re still seven months pregnant, sweating because of the jacket you have on and most definitely are wearing odd shoes because you can no longer see your feet and Matt wasn’t here to check for you.

But you blush nonetheless, letting Keith, Taryn, and Brady hug you before starting to walk to baggage claim.

“Thank you for picking us up.” Chantal says and you smile.

“It’s nothing,” you say, brushing it off. “You’ve done a lot for me.”

“Anything I can do to help. I know how hard it is being pregnant with your man travelling a lot.”

You want to correct her when she calls Matt your man, but you don’t want to be impolite so you just nod.

“Speaking of your man,” Brady says in a teasing voice, “what time does he get in, again?”

“Around 8.” You say, ignoring the teasing tone and changing the subject to ask Taryn how school is going. You know you’ll hear more comments about the nature of your relationship with Matt from his brother but for now, you chat with Taryn and Chantal about plans for the baby.

. . .

Matt gave you a key to his apartment when you both realized that you spent more time at his these days then you did at your own so you don’t miss the knowing looks Chantal and Keith share when you use your key to unlock Matt’s apartment. You know they can tell it’s your key and not Matt’s because he painted it your favourite colour when he gave it to you.

“So do we get a sneak peak of the nursery?” Taryn asks hopefully and you nod, gesturing for her to follow you. Matt turned one of the guest rooms in to the nursery in his apartment. You haven’t done anything with yours yet because you and Matt were starting to wonder if after the baby is born, at least for a little while, the two of you should just live together. It would certainly make things much easier.

“It’s beautiful.” Chantal says, and you can see her eyes watering a little.

“We’re going to put up letters spelling his name above the crib.”

“Oh yeah, have you guys decided on a name yet?” Keith asks, testing the sturdiness of the crib by wiggling it a little.

“No.” You mutter. “We can’t agree on anything.”

“You’ll find something you both love eventually.” Chantal reassures you. “Now, please tell me my son has food in his fridge, because I’m going to cook dinner.”

You grin, realizing that she too knows how bad Matt is at keeping his fridge stocked. Before you started spending so much time here, you would be lucky if he had eggs in the fridge.

. . .

Matt arrives home just as dinner is cooked and you get to witness what a typical Tkachuk night must look like. There’s lots of chirps thrown but you can tell how close this family is and how much they care about each other. Especially when it comes to Matt and his mom and sister. He treats them like gold and it warms your heart to see it.

After dinner, you volunteer to clean up and you’re surprised when Keith offers to help. You’ve only spoken to him a few times before today and you don’t feel as close to him as you do with Chantal so it’s quiet while the two of you clear up the dishes.

Keith breaks the silence after a couple minutes, turning to look at you.

“I know Matthew can be a handful… but don’t give up on him, okay?”

You’re surprised to hear this coming from Keith because you were truthfully expecting Taryn or Brady to say something about it. Every time you and Matthew touched or spoke to each other, you noticed the knowing looks and soft smiles from the other Tkachuk family members.

It was like they knew something that neither you nor Matthew did.

You’re not sure what exactly to say so you just nod.

“I won’t.” You promise, realizing that you truly mean it.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #calgary flames imagines #calgary flames fanficton #allies writing

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blazichu · 3 years

Text

Mystery March Day 13: Relax

I misremembered this one as ‘rest’ which kind of colored the tone/content, but I still dig it.

It started with a death curse.

Or, well, maybe it wasn’t a death curse specifically-- Vivi didn’t pretend to be an expert, but she knew how it made her feel, even from a distance, and from that she could extrapolate that it was bad news.

The point remained: there was a curse being levied, and the two people who might have any indication what it did reacted harshly to it. Those reactions, however, were on polar opposite ends of the spectrum. While Mystery bristled and visibly weighed his options, Lewis decided on a more proactive approach. In an unerring, deceptively fast glide, he made his way toward the caster and seized their raised hand by the wrist.

Startled by the unexpected contact and the skeletal phantom suddenly looming over them, they immediately lost their concentration-- and, for good reason, went into a panic. They tried to backpedal. When they only made it a step away, they tried to wrench the arm away.

Lewis’s grip on it tightened, and he rumbled something inaudible from their distance.

The spell in their hand popped-- exactly like a soap bubble, in spite of the fact that it didn’t technically exist yet-- and Lewis flinched in its wake, hair flickering wildly for half a second. Just as quickly as the disruption came on, though, his demeanor and form settled; he raised his free hand to gesture lackadaisically.

“Still dead. Imagine that.” He leaned in, as if to confide in the caster, but the phantasmal force behind his words carried them across the gap between himself and the rest of the group, “Be grateful it was me tonight; if you raise this hand again, toward any of them,” His grip tightened, and they renewed their struggling, teeth grit against the pressure on their wrist, “It’s the first thing you’re going to lose. Do I make myself clear?”

Something must have passed between the two, because Lewis dropped their hand, sending them skittering backwards blindly. He straightened up to his full height-- plus an extra couple of inches, due to his lack of contact with the ground-- and made as if to follow. The caster whirled around and booked it as fast as they could.

For several seconds, he stayed put-- tracking their progress until he deemed them too far away to bother with-- and then turned to rejoin the group, absently flexing the hand that had interrupted the curse. He looked completely unruffled, though, admittedly, it was pretty hard to judge when the only metric was a skull with resting bitch face.

It was off-putting, if Vivi was honest-- not the skull, but drastic behavioral shift. Lewis had always been loathe to use his stature to his advantage; he may have loomed, but it was always an accident, and on the rare occasion he’d seen fit to intimidate someone, it had always disturbed him after the fact. Maybe he was just leaning into the fact that it was hard to be a reassuring presence when one was very obviously dead, but it was hardly an isolated phenomena.

She still loved him dearly, but times like this, she worried for him.

Belatedly, Vivi realized that Arthur had frozen up somewhere in the middle of things. Lewis, as he drew nearer, seemed to notice the same thing, sighed, and gave him an absent pat on the shoulder.

And that was that.

Until later that night, when midway through a discussion on Scottish folklore, Lewis fell asleep at the table.

Thinking nothing of the sudden silence, Vivi stabbed a couple more penne, giving Lewis a few more seconds to consider his stance on kelpies. When there was no answer forthcoming, though, she glanced over, and immediately dropped her fork.

“You’re seeing this too, right?” Arthur asked, bemused.

Bizarrely, even though there was no gentle rise-and-fall of the chest, it was immediately obvious that Lewis was asleep, and nothing more sinister. And if there was something more sinister than dead Vivi wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was.

She scooted forward in her seat, leaning over her plate to get a better look without uprooting herself.

“I… didn’t realize that was an option.” She said after a moment passed. Then, with the blunt end of her knife, she nudged Lewis’s jaw. Arthur fussed at her for it, which was fortunate, because Lewis didn’t wake up to do it himself. She set it down and frowned, “Think we should be worried?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Vivi hummed to herself and stood up, moving to shake Lewis’s shoulder; skull still resting on his arms, he didn’t stir in the slightest. Chewing thoughtfully on her lip, she looked at Arthur. “I realize now’s not the time, but how do you s’pose his skull’s staying in place if he’s not actively keeping it there?”

Arthur, who’d gotten to his feet the same time Vivi had, flicked both of his hands up in something that wasn’t quite disbelief, “You’re right, it’s not the time.”

He made a circuit of the table, and the slumbering ghost thereupon, then came to a halt at Vivi’s other side. “He… looks fine? There’s nothing up with his anchor, anyway, so…?”

Vivi nodded, thoughts racing-- and then, both as a test and in search of answers, hollered, “Mystery!”

Nothing from sleeping spooky, but after a moment, Mystery appeared, grumbling all the while.

“You bellowed?” He asked, face twisting in displeasure as he padded onto the wooden floorboards.

With a wide wave, Vivi gestured in Lewis’s general direction, “Do you know anything about that?”

“I believe that’s your boyfriend.” He said, irritation creeping into his tone, “Should I identify Arthur for you, too, while I’m here?”

“We think something’s wrong.” The Arthur in question cut in, before they could get off track, “He’s, uh, asleep? Probably?”

Mystery shot him a look over his glasses, “He’s what.”

He offered a much more subdued wave toward the still form at the table.

Perhaps realizing that, through all the shouting and sassing Lewis hadn’t said a word, Mystery tensed minutely and trotted over. As the others before him, he nudged the ghost. And, as the others before him, he received a complete lack of response.

“That’s… unusual.” He said, somewhat unnecessarily, and propped himself up on his hind legs, front braced against the edge of the chair. It took a bit of craning, but he managed to nose his way against Lewis’s chest and prod at the golden heart sandwiched between its owner and the table.

That, finally, got a rise out of Lewis. He made a soft, inhuman noise akin to whine and flapped the nearest hand, as if to shoo Mystery away. As subdued a response as it was, neither Vivi or Arthur had expected anything, and it was enough to make one start, and the other jump.

Snout scrunched in thought, Mystery hopped down from his perch, “It seems you were correct, he’s asleep.”

In a silent bid for more information, Vivi turned her palms upward.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. My best guess is that it’s a product of the spell he intercepted earlier, but, as that’s the only variable at play here, that seems rather obvious.” His cocked his head, deliberating, “I suppose we could try to agitate his anchor, if you’re that worried, but he doesn’t seem distressed. Personally, I don’t see the harm in letting him sleep it off.”

At that, Vivi gave a short, wry laugh, “Well lookit that, Artie, you managed to stay up longer than a dead guy.”

Arthur stuck his tongue out and made his way back to his place at the table, eyes briefly resting on Lewis’s slouched form. “Should we move him somewhere else? You know how he gets when I fall asleep at my desk.”

“I think it’s less that he objects to the tabletop, and more that you should go to bed before you get to that point.” Vivi said, flopping back into her chair, “Kinda funny that he passed out here though, after all the talks you guys have had. What do you think, is it gonna take magic backlash to beat your all-nighter-recovery record?”

–

It took another two days for Lewis to wake up. There was some debate as to whether or not that technically broke Arthur’s record; Arthur was relatively certain he’d never taken that long to bounce back from a tinkering binge, and Vivi begged to differ. Mystery wisely stayed out of it.

Up to that point, they’d just resigned themselves to having haunted decor on the table while daily life went on around him, so it was a welcome surprise when Lewis showed signs of waking.

Vivi eyed him from over the edge of her laptop’s screen as she collated her research into parasomnia. He briefly buried his face deeper into the crook of his arm, then sat up and pressed the heel of one hand into an eye socket. As his open eye landed on Vivi, he blinked, dropped his hand, then glanced to the empty seat across from her.

She grinned at him and, without thinking, announced, “He lives!”

It was followed by a confused beat of silence and then a sheepish, “Oh shit, sorry.”

Lewis simply stared at her, uncomprehending.

“How’re you feeling? That was a pretty serious nap, but I guess that’s the worst you can do to someone who’s already dead, huh?”

“A nap?” He echoed, voice distorted either from sleep or confusion.

Vivi turned in her seat to gesture to the brightly-lit kitchen window. “I was trying to be nice, but I could try something more festive, like ‘short coma’.”

“Vivi. Since when do ghosts sleep?”

She shrugged, “Since two nights ago? Mystery thought there was a way to wake you up, but if a curse is anything like the flu, you were better off sleeping through it.”

“Oh,” Lewis said, voice unusually soft, “Right, the spellcaster. That shouldn’t have done anything, though…?”

Vivi shot him a sideways look, and gestured widely to the table. “You tell me, boo.”

Lewis did no such thing. Instead, he got up and floated away, body language troubled.

Things went back to normal relatively quickly thereafter.

On this particular night, Vivi was still pulling together notes for their next case, and frequently called out random trivia about bog bodies to whoever was available to hear it. Mystery would have been underfoot in the kitchen, had its other occupant not been hovering a good six inches in the air, floating around or through him in an effort to ignore his well-meaning nagging, whilst cleaning up for the day.

And then there was Arthur, who had disappeared after dinner. He had the next day off, which was a double-edged sword-- more often than not, he took it as an excuse to stay up until dawn and then crash.

There was a loud clang from down the hallway, and Lewis automatically turned to consult the nearest clock. Simultaneously, Vivi’s eyes flicked down to the digital display on her laptop. 1 am already. She saved her work and stretched, deciding her fifteen remaining tabs could wait.

While she shut things down for the night, Lewis tucked a new towel into the oven’s handle and started toward the hall, goal clear in mind.

Vivi stared after him and, after some thought, did a little skip-hop closer to catch his arm. “Maybe you should try to get some sleep, too.”

“I… don’t need to sleep.” He said, in the tones of one who’d been made to explain something very simple to someone who should know better.

“Not technically, no, but you can.” Vivi tilted her head as she considered whether or not to voice her next thought. “I get that you didn’t really have a choice in the matter before, but you-- after you woke up, you seemed a lot happier, and it made me think. We sleep because our bodies need it, yeah, but it’s important for us mentally, too. Even if you’re dead, you’re still a dead human-- what if you’ve just been cranky because you don’t have a body to tell you you’re tired?”

Lewis was quiet for several long seconds, and then sighed, “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll try.”

A slow smile worked its way across Vivi’s face, and, with some doing, she craned high enough to press a kiss to his cheekbone. With a gentle bump of his temple against hers, Lewis floated off-- and, as he left, Vivi caught a single word muttered into the darkness:

“’Cranky’?”

–

Though she’d told herself she didn’t have any specific expectations, Vivi found herself slightly disappointed when she spent the night alone. At first, she assumed it meant Lewis had decided against resting after all, but when her alarm went off and she made to start fumbling around in the kitchen, she realized what had happened: for whatever reason, he’d decided to sleep on the couch. She told herself not to speculate why; he had to have his reasons, and there was no point in humoring the wriggling doubts when she’d just be able to ask.

She was a little surprised, though, when her futzing with the coffee pot failed to disturb him. Maybe he was just that tired. It wasn’t unthinkable; if her theory held any weight, he’d only slept three nights over the course of a year.

With the coffee brewing and toaster at work, Vivi wandered over and braced an elbow on the back of the couch. As before, it only took a glance to recognize that Lewis was asleep; unlike before, his anchor was in plain view to confirm it, dusted a mellow gold that didn’t pulse so much as draw in and out, keeping the same pace as the low, even breathing of true sleep.

It seemed he’d curled around it out of habit, protecting it even in unconsciousness.

Vivi lingered a bit longer, without any particular reason for doing so; thoughts came and went, and she didn’t try to hold onto any of them. It was soothing leaning there, absently matching her breathing to the lazy thrum of Lewis’s anchor.

Then the toaster went off and she started upright, slapping her cheeks in anticipation for the day ahead.

She never asked why he chose the couch, and he never offered her an answer.

---

Something about that brief respite must have convinced Lewis that he was better off taking the occasional nap, because he didn’t speak a word of protest from there on out. And as he accepted it, the less Vivi worried for him; he’d never been unrecognizable-- not counting, you know-- but he started acting more and more like himself, rather than the new, spooky version where you had to squint to make out his original personality.

That wasn’t the only benefit, either. Arthur might have foregone sleep for his own sake, ignoring any number of pointed reminders while he worked, but this discovery seemed to change things. If it got too late and he realized Lewis was still hovering around, he’d shut things down on his own and shoo the ghost off to bed, using himself as an example.

It was an incredibly sweet gesture, but Vivi had a suspicion that Lewis might have engineered the chain of events in the first place; he may have urged Arthur to sleep in the past, but he only started loitering when he realized he could make himself the impetus to follow through. But at the same time, the longer this went on, the gentler the reminders became, the more it turned into something he considered ‘for Arthur’s benefit’ and less a naughty, if mutually beneficial, game.

The compromise didn’t always mean they slept at a decent hour, or even went to bed properly, but it did mean that they slept every night, at least for a little bit, and that was better than the alternative.

(It also meant that Vivi got up one morning, further into this arrangement, and found them asleep on the couch: Arthur’s good arm dangling off the edge, Lewis half-sunken into the back of said couch, loosely curled around his anchor-- but also, as a consequence of where he was laying, Arthur. If it hadn’t been for the phantasmal tail his lower body melded into, ‘cute’ was all it would have been, but as things stood, that also bumped it into the ‘fascinating’ camp.

She hadn’t forgotten the fact that his skull stayed firmly in place while he slept, so this unconscious modification was an object of intrigue for her.)

“It’s because you weren’t getting your beauty sleep,” Vivi joked, then moved her hands in a rainbow’s arc and put on the ‘I am interacting with a young child’ voice, “And we all know real beauty is on the inside.”

Lewis sighed a laugh, but didn’t argue. In fact, after a moment’s thought, he said, “It’s strange. Obviously I know I’m dead, but I didn’t realize how awful it was to feel like a ghost until I felt like a person again.”

And to that Vivi hummed, unsure what to say, thoughts racing.

Then there was Thursday.

On one particular Thursday, where Arthur couldn’t stay asleep and Vivi had an especially early shift, the commotion throughout the kitchen roused Lewis from wherever he’d settled the previous night. Nothing unusual there, and Vivi would hardly begrudge his help as she blearily went about putting breakfast together.

There were no footsteps as he rounded the corner-- there never were, regardless of whether he walked or floated-- but something was audibly off when he greeted them.

Vivi waved without looking over, intent as she was on the coffee pot.

It would have taken her a few more minutes to notice, if it hadn’t been for Arthur’s uncertain, “Uh, Vivi…?”

She glanced up, and then automatically followed the pointed tilt of Arthur’s head, failing to process the look on his face until several seconds after the fact.

Where he’d emerged from the hallway, Lewis was shooing off a Deadbeat that seemed determined to get in his face. Frankly, it was hard to blame the Deadbeat; as soon as what she was seeing clicked, Vivi bounded across the kitchen and got in his face herself, reaching up as far as she could. Her hand brushed his cheek. Not his cheekbone, his cheek-- and despite herself, she felt tears welling up.

“Vivi?” He asked, and there was no overt reverberation. As dark-- as dead-- as his eyes may have been, his concerned gaze on her was a balm she hadn’t known she needed, and she gave up on holding back the sniffles as she flung her arms around his neck.

She’d known. She’d known he was still there, even in his roughest moments, and now she had him back.

#Mystery Skulls #MysteryMarch2021 #blazy's stuff

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sondepoch · 4 years

Text

Hogwarts, Basically (Solomon x Reader)

When you finally leave RAD, the last thing you expect is to be whisked off by Solomon to a human school of magic. What you expect even less is for the white-haired mage to become your dormmate, and to be forced into a life of spells, potions, and wizardry. But what you expect the least is to find yourself pining after the sorcerer, reduced to something akin to a lost puppy, staring at him in longing at every chance you get. Or, correction: What you expect the least is for Solomon to feel the same way.

~Oneshot

MASTERLIST

At the very beginning, Lucifer warned you: stay away from Solomon. Never trust the shady sorcerer. Keep your distance at all costs, and do not interact.

But you never listened.

No, you were convinced that you knew better. That the white-haired mage had good inside him, that he wasn't a demon in human skin with an agenda more suspicious than Diavolo's own. For an entire year, you believed in him, and the two of you stayed by each other's side the whole time you were in the Devildom.

You have so many good memories with him.

The two of you pulled pranks on Asmo. Downloaded TikTok onto Lucifer's phone. Ran a scam where you auctioned your souls off on D-Bay and kept the Grimm. You egged the student council hall on April Fool's day, and you even shared your food with the guy.

So many good memories.

So many tainted memories.

If you had known where it would land you, you never would have allowed yourself to get close to him.

"I fucking hate you," You grumble, darting forward and flopping onto your bed the second Solomon opens the door, groaning as you burrow your head in your pillow. It reeks of magic, much like everything else in this godforsaken place, and you're entirely sick of it, but you're too exhausted to even care right now. "I can't believe you fucking did this to me."

"Oh please, you're acting like this is the end of the world." The mage closes the door, and you hear the sound of shuffling as he puts his books away for the day, taking off his school jacket. His actions are innocent enough, but you're certain he finds amusement in your state, and the very thought fills your lungs with even more resentment toward your current situation.

"It is the end of the world," You grumble in protest. "I'm supposed to be relaxing right now. Playing video games with friends. Hanging out at a club. Wasting time on twitter, sending celebrities stupid pickup lines. Not doing more schoolwork at another fucking school of magic."

Solomon laughs lightly, a warm sound that you wish you didn't like.

"Technically, RAD wasn't a school of magic," He tells you.

"Oh, who fucking cares? This school is! You've kidnapped me and dumped me in Hogwarts, basically, and I hate Harry Potter!"

"How unfortunate for you, then." Solomon grins boyishly as he rolls your body over, eyes twinkling with mirth as he gazes at your utterly unamused expression. "Relax. You'll begin to enjoy your time here, once you get used to the course load. I dare say you might even find it fun to learn about our magical heritage."

"When pigs fly, Solomon," You quip back, opting to ignore the fact that your potions teacher told you that your end-of-year project would actually be to create a solution potent enough to give farm animals wings.

You sigh grumpily and roll over, closing your eyes and relaxing quietly as the sorcerer pats your shoulder, quietly telling you not to nap for too long, so you have time to finish your homework later.

You ignore him, for the most part.

I'll never enjoy it here, you convince yourself. As much as you love spending time with Solomon, you don't have it in you to completely change your life and begin studying magic, irregardless of how much the teachers at this school want you to. Ignoring the sound of scribbles as Solomon begins his own homework, you tell yourself that the mage is wrong, that all you need to do is flunk out during this first semester and then you'll be returned to your normal life in your home country.

What you don't expect is for Solomon's words to be proven true.

One week into your time at the academy, you've just begun to grow used to the course load. The students at school stop raising eyebrows at your face, and as you begin to grow accustomed to the school, it becomes accustomed to you.

Two weeks in, you've already fallen into a loose rhythm.

By three weeks, you've developed what a less apprehensive person would call "friends," and by four weeks, you're genuinely giving your studies your all, learning spellwork and enchantments with an almost-passionate fervor.

By the time the month has ended, you've actually forgotten your plans to flunk out.

And though you're surprised by your change of heart, the never-fading smile on Solomon's face makes you suspect that he predicted this from the start.

You glance up at him from your textbook, momentarily halting your note-taking to study the way the enthralled light never fades from his eyes, even as he glances from book to book while continuing to draw a summoning circle for his demonology class, somehow looking pleased even as he cross-checks his image.

You groan.

You've found yourself glancing up at Solomon more and more often in these past few days, distracted from your own studying by the way his hair falls over his forehead, or the way his chest sometimes peeks through when he undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt, or the way he sometimes bites his lip cutely when going over a particularly difficult passage. Hell, you once spent five minutes staring at the sorcerer's hands, because they looked oh-so-soft as he took notes on the book he was deciphering.

The first few times, you convinced yourself that it was merely because of how eye-catching he was. And that was a fair enough excuse. After all, the colors of this academy are black and gold—Solomon's pale skin stands out against the dark fabrics of the uniform and the even-darker furnishings of your dorm room.

But after catching yourself gazing wistfully at his lips a few too many times, you were forced to confront the truth.

You have a crush on the aggravating, annoying, sassy, difficult, handsome, cute mage.

But that's not even the worst part.

You think he knows.

A warmth creeps onto your cheeks the moment you begin to think about all the instances where Solomon has caught you staring at him over these past few weeks. There are almost too many examples. Early in the morning, when his hair is all messed up. Right after breakfast, when his lips have changed color to whatever potion he drank. On your way back from school, when you walk back to the dorm together. During homework sessions like these. Right after he steps out of the shower—oh, he's caught you gawking at him far too many times after returning from the shower. (You tried to play it off by saying that you were merely studying his pact marks, but you know he knows the truth. His abs are loosely defined, but they're there, and you want to lick them so bad it hurts.)

"MC?" Solomon calls, and you blink.

Fuck, you think, suddenly realizing that you were staring at him while you daydreamed about him.

Add one more to the count, you think with an internal groan, silently wondering how many more times the sorcerer will catch you staring at him.

"You good?" He questions, and you can see the smirk he's trying so hard to fight off his face.

"Uh—I'm going to the library," You blurt, opting to avoid the sorcerer's gaze as you grab your jacket, looping your arms through it with deftness despite how utterly befuddled your thoughts are as you escape the room. You don't have your books with you, or your library card for that matter, but anything is better than responding to that all-too-playful question.

You flee before Solomon has a chance to say anything else, all but running to the stairs and sauntering on down until you're outside the dorm building, the air crisp in your lungs as you inhale sharply.

I'm such a mess, you think to yourself, the lingering warmth on your cheeks beginning to cool as you fold your arms and walk in the direction of what you hope is the library. A few people crossing you nod their heads in greeting, quick smiles thrown your way as you return them, but no one stops to converse with you, and you're left alone to debate your affections for the sorcerer.

You sigh, trying to sort out your thoughts.

Solomon must harbor some affection for you, you know that.

After all, he's spent far too many nights explaining foreign concepts to you, calmly navigating you through the waters of magic where he could have simply directed you to a tutoring board.

Moreover, you've seen how he behaves with other students here at the academy. No matter who has come to your dorm, be two kids it for a group project or a single friend in preparation to summon a demon they're interested in, there's a barrier of cool distance Solomon maintains with everyone else, one that simply seems to disappear around you.

Distance, you think, recalling the awkward way Solomon avoids physical contact with others, using sorcery to do things as simple as handing a glass of water to a guest. With you, though, you've both only grown closer, once-awkward pats now having turned into comfortably leaning on each other whenever one of you is tired. Last week, Solomon even ran a hand through your hair, and though he blinked afterward in surprise, as if he hadn't meant to do that, there was an undeniable feeling of closeness to his actions, something which others would hardly expect to see from him.

Another sound of frustration spills from your lips, aggravated at your situation with the sorcerer. The two of you are closer than others, but still not close. More than casual friends, but hardly intimate. Beyond nothing, but not yet something.

You kick a rock lying on the ground, watching it sail into the grass as you brood over the fact that Solomon is more confusing than the history of magic.

And you might brood some more, maybe even consider confessing your affections to the sorcerer in question, if not for the fact that you randomly look up and the building that greets you is not the school library.

You blink, abruptly turning around to check the way you came, but it is also a road that you've never seen, never heard of, and certainly have never navigated.

"Fuck," You mutter to yourself, realizing your predicament.

You're lost.

***

In your dorm room, Solomon is growing increasingly frustrated over the summoning circle he's been instructed to sketch. His fingers are supposed to be tracing the emblem of Mephistopheles, but it's so similar to Barbatos (and he's so used to drawing the summoning circle of Barbatos) that he keeps messing up at the end and has to restart all over again.

Or at least, that's what he tells himself is the cause for his repeated failures.

Solomon is hardly dumb—he's well aware that the reason for his utter inability to focus right now is caused solely and explicitly by you, and that this would not be happening if he weren't worried for your whereabouts.

But at the same time, there's nothing he can do about the fact that you're already gone, or the fact that he just messed up again on this seal.

A frustrated groan leaves Solomon's lips, inwardly cursing himself for driving you from the room.

After all, he really needs to get this assignment done.

Then again, it's not like he would be doing much of a better job if you were still here.

The sorcerer can never find himself fully able to focus around you, eyes always drawn upward to study you. It feels like if he casts his gaze away for too long, he'll miss something—the way your eyes light up every time you understand a concept, the way your eyebrows furrow every time you don't. It's the little things he tries to pay attention to: how you silently nod your head at the end of every sentence you read to the way you aimlessly fumble with your blanket whenever an assignment bores you.

Solomon is positive that he's successfully picked up on every one of your little quirks, by now. At a single glance, he can tell what subject you're studying by the way you're sprawled out over your bed, and if he looks a little longer, he might even be able to tell how good a mood you're in based on the way you tap your pen against your notebook. Give him enough time, and he's even picked apart how the way you kick your feet in the air relates to how nervous you are for an upcoming quiz.

Yeah, Solomon really hasn't been doing too well in his school, with how much he's been focusing on you.

Of course, you don't notice it at all. No, Solomon cast a spell long ago which makes it look like he's studying diligently even as he gazes absentmindedly at the way you run a hand through your hair when you're tired, making it incredibly easy for him to catch all the little glances you've been giving him these past few weeks.

Does he feel guilty for watching you watch him?

Absolutely.

Does he think about removing the spell?

All the time.

Does that mean he will change anything?

Most definitely not.

The look of shock on your face every time he casually "catches" you staring at him is too attractive for him to stop, especially since the immediate state of fluster it induces is so amusing to watch.

But that doesn't stop him from regretting calling you out just now, because while he's pretty sure you know your way around the campus, he's also well-aware that whenever your head is in a jumble, you lose all sense of awareness.

I'll wait, he decides, rapping his pencil against the outline of the sketch he's working on, reaching for a ruler. I need to finish this assignment, anyway.

But then ten minutes turns into twenty, and by the time Solomon is done with his assignment, the hour is over, signaled by the four loud rings from the grandfather clock on the ground floor.

The mage glances at your empty bed, set just six feet across from his, and he frowns.

I'll wait a little longer.

But one hour stretches into two, and two stretches into three, and nearly four hours have passed by the time the sun sets, and Solomon is pacing back and forth in the dorm, glancing at the door every time he turns, in hopes that you'll walk through it.

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself, grabbing his academy jacket as he flips his book closed and shoves it onto his desk.

He isn't going to torture himself any longer like this.

Hell, he'll confess if that's what it takes to bring you back, because right now, he's going crazy cooped up in this room and there's only one thing that's going to calm him down.

Shoving his keys into his pocket, he yanks the door open, all final hopes of you standing on the other sides crushed when he sees the almost-empty hall, and the questioning eyes of students wondering why he's heading out when it's so close to curfew.

He huffs in exasperation, slamming the door shut as he walks out, long legs carrying him in the direction of where he suspects you got lost.

He's really fallen for such a troublesome person.

Then again, Solomon adores even that part of you.

***

You've never been so relieved to see a clump of white hair.

Or, well, maybe you have—you know, given that Mammon has saved you more than a few times from Lucifer's wrath—but you've never been so relieved in the human world to see a familiar, fluffy clump of white hair.

"Solomon!" You exclaim the moment you set your eyes on the mage, sprinting forward to capture him in a tight hug. He stiffens at the contact, and you inwardly note that this is probably the closest you've ever physically been to him, but you don't care. Maybe it's the instincts that were drilled into you after being surrounded by demons for a whole year, but you had seriously begun to think that you would die out here.

"How on earth did you get here?" Solomon asks incredulously, gazing at your surroundings.

"I, um." You suddenly feel embarrassed. "I got lost, and then I sort of just picked a direction and walked."

"You..." Solomon pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, unable to even bring himself to repeat your words back to you. "You do realize that that's the worst possible thing you could have done, right?" The mage shoots a frown your way. "Do you even know how far off-campus we are right now?"

You ignore his words off with a smile, following him gleefully as he shakes his head in disapproval. "Then isn't it wonderful that I had you to come find me?"

You laugh, the sound filling the otherwise empty night, missing the way Solomon fights off an instinctive smile at the sound.

"If you turn tail and run away every single time I catch you staring at me, we're going to have an issue," The sorcerer mutters, more under his breath than to you. You ignore his words, neither wanting to nor knowing how to respond. "Your crush on me is only going to bring more trouble to us, if things continue on like this."

And that gets to you.

(And though you don't know it, the sorcerer is equally mortified by his statement. He certainly hadn't wanted to confront you like that.)

"You know?!" You exclaim, eyes round in horror. You always knew that he must have had his own suspicions, but for him to just come out and say it? You stare at the man with a mouth agape, raw embarrassment warming your cheeks for the second time today.

"Ah, yes," Solomon comments lamely, wincing when he hears how his words must sound. "I mean, ahem, I would actually, erm, consider myself, goodness look at that goose, to harbor similar sentiments.

"You...what?" You ask suspiciously, partially confident that Solomon just confessed but at the same time confused whether his words mean what you think they do. "You like me?" You ask hesitantly, watching the mage's expressions carefully.

"'Like' is such a strange word," Solomon begins. "One might consider it to be an expression of indifference, whereas another would—"

You cut the mage off with a sharp elbow to the stomach and a pointed glare, warning him to stop being around the bush.

"Fine," He mutters, shooting you a sulky glare. "Yes. I like you, okay? Are you happy now?"

A warm smile blooms on your face as you hear the sorcerer say those words, savoring the beautiful pink that swells on his usually-pale cheeks as he averts his eyes and crosses his arms.

"Yes, that does make me happy," You muse, grinning. "For how long?" You probably didn't have to ask that question—but Solomon's evident embarrassment makes it impossible not to milk this situation for all it's worth.

"Since...the Devildom," He mutters, the pink on his cheeks surging with even more prominence.

You blink at that.

The Devildom?

That's even longer than you've liked him!

"Wow," You confess, eyes slightly round in wonder. "I...I had no idea, this whole time."

"Yeah, I...kind of made sure of that."

"What do you mean?" You pause in your walk to glance at the man standing next to you. "How'd you stop me from figuring it out?"

"I, uh," Solomon scratches the back of his neck, glancing away sheepishly. "I may have used magic."

Wow.

Well, that—

Yeah, that was entirely expected.

A huff leaves your throat, and you cross your arms dramatically as you saunter ahead of Solomon, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that Asmo once warned you that, if Solomon ever started liking you, this was exactly the sort of thing he would do.

You pause, glancing right and then left as you approach a crossing, completely unsure of which way to go but unwilling to reduce yourself to asking the sorcerer from help. Not when you can feel the waves of apology radiating off him.

"Are you mad?" He asks when you stop, and the hesitant inflection of his voice only makes you fall for him more because of how annoyingly adorable you find it.

"Maybe," You respond, deciding to keep him in suspense. "But you can make it up to me."

Before Solomon can ask how, you walk in front of him and turn around such that you're facing him, one arm on your hip as you send a confident smirk.

"Given that we both like each other, see..." You trail off, standing in front of him with a devilish grin on your face as you wait for him to piece together what you're hinting at.

You see his eyes widen, the moment of realization dawning in his eyes as he understands what you're asking him to do.

Solomon doesn't hesitate much after that. He barely spends a single moment preparing himself, and then one hand is reaching for your cheek while his lips pull closer, and you savor the sight of his eyes closing as he presses his lips to yours, and then your own eyes are closed, basking in the feeling of warmth as you grin and lean into the kiss, lifting your own arms to his neck, looping them around to play with his hair the way you've thought about so many times.

Something about the situation is undeniably blissful, undeniably comfortable, and undeniably right as you both kiss, and the very notion that you could have ever been so hesitant about doing this makes you both laugh, the two of you smiling and giggling into the kiss like fools.

You lean back slightly, pulling away to beam at the sorcerer with a proud smile, but Solomon chases your lips, dipping his head forward and halting you from going further back by snaking a hand around your waist. Not at all minding this development, you grin as he turns the kiss passionate, slipping his tongue through your lips with a determined force you can't help but be turned on by, and then the lightheartedness of the previous moment is replaced by a sudden passion for more of this, more of the feeling of Solomon's mouth against yours, more of him.

You bring your hands to his chest, pushing him backward and onto a bench that could not be more conveniently placed as you press his body down onto it, and he doesn't bother commenting on how you're wrinkling his shirt when you grab fistfuls of it and straddle his lap. Or maybe he does try, but you'll never find out, because seconds later your lips are back to being pressed against his and everything else in the world disappears.

"Fuck," Solomon whispers, gasping when you part for air, his fingers just about to slip under your shirt as he caresses your waist.

"Yeah," You respond, knowing exactly what he's talking about. When your eyes dart from his flushed neck to his eyes, the look he gives you is nothing short of sinful.

Seconds later, the two of you are kissing again—because really, Solomon can't look at you like that and not expect you to immediately throw yourself at him—and his fingers really do squirm their way underneath your shirt, the feeling of his touch almost electric as his fingers grip your waist firmly.

And then it really doesn't matter that you're both still in public, that you're straddling Solomon on a public bench and that it's almost well curfew, because holy fuck you've both wanted to do this for way longer than anyone should have to wait, and now that you've started, nothing will pull you apart.

Bonus:

From his lovely little cloud in the heavens, Simeon cheers, a warm smile on his face as he watches his two favorite humans give in to the attraction that has always been painfully obvious to him.

He hums peacefully, internally wondering how he'll go about collecting his money from Lucifer, now that he's won their bet about how long it would take for the two of you to grow intimate—but his bliss is short-lived as he watches you tug Solomon's tie off, a light gasp leaving both his and Solomon's lips, though for two very different reasons.

"No!" Simeon cries, gasping dramatically with a hand over his chest as he realizes what is happening. "You're in public! In public!"

He moans in distress, falling to his knees as he sends a prayer up to Father for you both, his horror widening as he catches sight of buttons popping off your shirt as Solomon slips his hands underneath it, both of you starved and desperate for more contact than your clothes can provide.

"Little lambs!" He wails in horror, and all the other angels stop what they're doing for a moment to wonder what has their Simeon in such a twist, nearly every angel in the heavens listening to the sound of his utterly defeated whimpers that follow as he crawls back into bed, trying his best to forget the unholy sight that now plagues his mind.

"Forgive me, Father," He murmurs, fingers darting from his forehead to his chest, then right and left. But then, he thinks of a better prayer: "Forgive them."

Bonus bonus:

Centuries later, Simeon will reluctantly (and drunkenly) recount this tale to Asmodeus, who will immediately cheer in support. The fifth-born will claim to have always sensed the unspoken sexual tension between the two of you, and has always been an ardent supporter of "giving in to temptation," regardless of how public one's surroundings may be. After hearing Simeon's story, he'll order another round of drinks for the bar, paying for it himself in honor of everyone's two favorite humans, the demon cheering both your names loudly and downing a shot before promptly passing out on Simeon's lap.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: Fun fact: originally, the academy that mc and solomon are at was supposed to be RAS - the royal academy of Solomon - just like RAD, but solomon was the headmaster (and there was a corresponding RAM run by Michael in the Celestial Realm) :) Not fun fact: I’m also working on a diavolo fic right now and it feels like every word is a breath of air being ripped from my already asphyxiated lungs :)

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Rainbow

Prompt: have you ever heard the song rainbow by dodie? i just heard it for the first time and i cant think of anything except how much it makes me think of poor bb Merlin. if you're interested could you maybe write a little fic based on it or something? it basically just makes me think about how Merlin would feel the first time Arthur and the knights compliment him on his magic, which is something he's been so conditioned to hate and think is monstrous his whole life (':

Thank you for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2709

Merlin is magic.

The world doesn't like magic.

...does it?

The first time he sees Percival smile at him, he almost drops his bag.

He’d barged into the armory, rubbed the wrong way from Arthur’s jests that had hit a little too close to home. Sure, in a few hours the prat would act like nothing was wrong or give Merlin some sort of soft look that would be an unspoken apology, but right now, he’s angry.

Merlin angry is never a good thing, but it’s even less of a good thing when he’s got no one to talk to. His magic tends to…protest. A little. He’s gotten a pretty good handle on it over the years, but he’s not perfect.

So when he swings open the door and the wooden boards decide now is the time to careen into a rack of swords, he barely glares in their direction before they freeze and sheepishly retreat back to their previous positions. He huffs and sets about getting the gloves mended.

“Wish you could do that to the others.”

He doesn’t want to say he jumps, because his feet never actually leave the ground, but…

Percival isn’t paying attention to him. He just looks at the rack of swords, perfectly pristine, as if nothing ever happened. He turns to Merlin.

“Can you do that all the time?”

“Uh—technically, yes?”

Percival’s face splits into a grin so wide Merlin would be worried if he didn’t know that spark behind Percival’s eyes. He echoes it warily.

“You’re quite the man,” he says instead, clapping Merlin once on the shoulder as he leaves, “and I am honored to bear witness to it.”

…see now normally Gwaine’s the one for flowery compliments, so coming from Percival…

Merlin shakes it off and gets back to work. But if his face is turning up into a smile rather than the glower he’d been wearing, well, that’s just good for his worry lines.

The first time Elyan claps him on the shoulder and says he should learn a thing or two about magic from him, Merlin stares at him like his eyes have sprouted into stalks.

“I mean,” Elyan says as he gestures to the part of his side that’s still tingling with Merlin’s magic, “if you can make it so I don’t need stitches ever again, I’d better start paying attention, hmm?”

Merlin blinks, still wondering whether there’s an infection settling in that would explain why Elyan is complimenting his magic. “…you could always talk to Gaius.”

Elyan waves his hand. “I’ve gotten the battle healer speech more times than I can count, and I’ve no interest in becoming a court physician.”

“Then you’re out of options.”

“If you’re expecting me to believe Gaius doesn’t know anything about healing magic, I’m not going to believe you.”

“I never said he didn’t.”

Elyan fixes him with a look. “I could always ask you.”

“But I learned from Gaius.”

“Then I’ll talk to Gaius about healing magic.”

“You shouldn’t,” Merlin blurts, “you shouldn’t talk to Gaius.”

Elyan tilts his head. “But you just said you learned it from Gaius.”

“I did, but—“

“...but?”

Merlin’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Elyan just lies there, on the ground, as the others bicker about who’s looting what bandit. Children, honestly.

But he can’t let them know Gaius is involved. Gaius has tried so hard to absolve himself of magic, to leave it in the past, to—to hide his magic. Told Merlin to hide it too.

“Merlin?” Is that Elyan? “Merlin? What’s happening?”

Merlin blinks. “What?”

“You went away for a moment there.” Elyan frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine, you’re the one who got shot.”

He runs a hand over his side. “Doesn’t feel like it anymore, not thanks to you.”

The knight gets to his feet, adjusting his tunic and armor. He smiles, reaching down to offer Merlin a hand up. Merlin takes it, still dazed.

“We can speak about this later,” he says, “but I would like to learn from you.”

“From m-me?”

“Yes, Merlin, from you.”

With that, Elyan disappears behind him. A few seconds later, he can hear him shouting with Gwaine. Merlin’s still frozen, looking down at his hands. Are they—huh.

If he doesn’t bother to hide the golden curl of sparks around his irises the next time, well, it’s just that he wants to be sure Elyan knows exactly what the magic is.

The first time Lancelot asks him what his favorite spell is, he drags the man into a secluded corner of the palace and hisses at him.

“What is your problem?”

“Easy,” Lancelot soothes, holding his hands up and letting Merlin fist his tunic, “I meant no offense.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

“What? Asking you what your favorite sp—“

“Shut up,” Merlin growls, his hand flattening over Lancelot’s mouth, glancing around frantically, “someone could hear you.”

A weathered hand covers his and he lets Lancelot guide his hand away, still glowering. The knight just raises his eyebrows.

“Is it an offense to all the others that you know to pick a favorite?”

“What? No, that’s not—they don’t care, it’s not like they’re sentient.”

“Then forgive me—“ and how is Merlin supposed to stay angry when Lancelot smiles like that—“but I do not see the problem.”

“You can’t just talk about magic like that,” Merlin whispers angrily, “not out in the open.”

“Merlin, in the time that I’ve known you, you’ve done magic more brazenly than I just spoke of it.”

“That’s different!”

“On multiple occasions,” he continues, still smiling, “you’ve done it in front of people that would happily have seen you killed for it.”

“Hence why I don’t really want it being spoken about!”

Something seems to flicker across Lancelot’s face and he steps forward, gently taking Merlin by the elbows. “Merlin,” he says softly, “none of those people are here.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” the knight corrects softly, that blasted smile still in place, “I do know that because Arthur has rooted them all out. And I’ve helped.”

“You’ve—“ Merlin blinks in surprise— “you’ve what?”

“There is no member of court that openly despises magic,” Lancelot insists, “and none that would dare harm a single hair on your head.”

Merlin’s fear fizzles and spurts in his chest, soothed in part by Lancelot’s grip. He swallows heavily, letting his head drop. It meets Lancelot’s sternum with a gentle thud.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Lancelot says immediately, his chest rumbling against Merlin’s forehead, “you’ve done nothing wrong. If anything it is I who must apologize.”

“No, it’s okay.” Merlin takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“So?”

“What’s your favorite spell?”

Merlin glances around them. There’s a window overlooking the training field not too far. Tugging Lancelot along by his sleeve, he peers outside. No one.

“Let’s go.”

“Oh, we need to be outside?”

“It’ll be less suspicious.”

If Lancelot has any issue with it, he keeps it to himself. Instead he just chuckles and lets Merlin pull him outside like an anxious toddler. He lifts a hand to block the sun from his eyes as he watches Merlin wring his hands.

“You needn’t show me if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I just…” he takes a deep breath, “I haven’t cast this in a while.”

He cups his hands around his mouth and murmurs softly. As he parts them, a swarm of vibrant blue butterflies fills the air around them, fluttering up from the safety of his palms. A soft smile crosses his face as he watches them fly up into the golden sun.

“Miraculous,” he hears Lancelot murmur distantly, still caught up in the swirl of wings, “truly miraculous.”

If Merlin lets one of the butterflies linger on Lancelot’s shoulder for a little longer, well, he’s just apologizing for dragging the man into this with him.

The first time Gwaine calls him beautiful, he laughs.

To say that Gwaine is a flirt is perhaps the greatest understatement in Camelot other than Kilgarrah isn’t concise.

Seriously. He doesn’t begrudge the dragon his fun—being locked and chained in a cave under Uther Pendragon is enough to drive anyone insane with boredom—but come on.

Anyway. Merlin’s turning away from Gwaine, dismissing the man as drunk again, only for there to be a gentle hand on his elbow turning him back.

“I heard you the first time, Gwaine.”

“And you laughed like you didn’t believe me.”

“Because you’re—“

Merlin’s eyes land on Gwaine’s and he pauses. Gwaine’s eyes are clear. Not dazed or fogged by spirits in the slightest. His mouth isn’t lolling to the side, bared in some audacious smirk, it’s not even smiling.

Instead, Gwaine looks the most serious Merlin’s ever seen him, bar the time he got stabbed and Gwaine pressed down on his stomach like a man possessed. It makes him want to laugh again, break the tension, get Gwaine back to his normal flirty self. But his laugh comes out choked and awkward and Gwaine still hasn’t blinked.

“If you’re looking for a warm body,” he tries instead, “try somewhere else.”

“I’m not, Merlin,” Gwaine says with a seriousness that makes Merlin wobble. “Nor am I joking.”

“I’m not beautiful, Gwaine.”

“Why not?” Gwaine looks him up and down. “Because you don’t think you are or because some nitwits told you you’re not?”

“…both?”

“You’re wrong,” Gwaine says softly, “you’re both wrong.”

Merlin just huffs and makes to turn away again. Gwaine stops him, standing slowly.

“Why don’t you want to hear this?”

“Because I don’t know what you want, Gwaine. And you should know you don’t have to ply me to get me to give you what you want.”

“What if I don’t want anything?” Gwaine won’t let go of him. “What are you running from?”

Merlin sighs. He lets his head hang and sets the jug on the table next to him.

“I’m not—Gwaine, what…why?”

“Because no one’s ever told you, Merlin,” the knight says, finally smiling as he runs his thumb along the sleeve of Merlin’s tunic, “and you deserve to hear it.”

Merlin swallows heavily. “What makes you think I’m beautiful?”

“Not to sound too brash—“

“Since when have you cared about sounding brash?”

He accepts the jibe with a nod, still smiling incredulously. “—but have you ever seen yourself when you do magic?”

Merlin’s cheeks burn.

He knows what Gwaine’s talking about. Some young upstart on the training field decided to show off like a pigeon about to be plucked and launched an errant spear in Merlin’s direction. He barely lifted an eyebrow and it dodged to the side as he fixed the squire with a look that said ‘do that again and it’ll be your head.’

The knights had talked about it for hours.

“Gwaine, I—“

“Merlin,” Gwaine says instead, “why do you think your magic isn’t beautiful?”

Ah.

Well.

That’s an interesting question.

One that Merlin would much rather never answer or hear again, thank you very much.

Gwaine, unfortunately, is not going to let him get away with that.

“Merlin,” the knight prods, “Merlin?”

Merlin’s face twists into an awful grimace. Gwaine doesn’t falter, just waits patiently.

“Because it’s magic,” Merlin spits eventually, “it’s not supposed to be.”

“Most things that are beautiful aren’t supposed to be.”

“But—“

“And just because they aren’t supposed to be doesn’t mean they are,” he continues gently. “And I don’t like seeing you grimace every time someone mentions it.”

Merlin blinks. “I what?”

“You make a face,” Gwaine says, “whenever people mention your magic. Like you wish you could’ve hidden it better.”

“Because most people want me to use my magic for—“

He cuts himself off. He shouldn’t have said that. He should not have said that. Gwaine just gives him a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

“People want my magic,” he says eventually, “not—not—“

“Not you?”

Merlin nods miserably.

“Well,” the knight says quietly, “we do. We want you. Magic and all.”

Merlin blinks. Why did—?

Oh. Now Gwaine’s leaving. As the door shuts behind him, Merlin stands completely still, puzzling over the words still ringing in his head.

Magic and all.

Merlin is inseparable from his magic. He is magic. Anyone who wants his magic is going to get—

Oh.

‘We want you. Magic and all.’

Most people who want his magic don’t want the man attached to it. Or rather, they do, because they want the scapegoat of someone to blame when the magic finally pays off. And most people who want Merlin don’t want the magic. Because—because—

But Gwaine said they do.

If Merlin stands there for a few more minutes before casting a simple spell in front of a mirror for the first time, well, he just—he just wants to see.

The first time Leon pulls him into a hug he cries.

“Come,” the knight murmurs, opening his arms and letting the great red cape spread out behind him, “shed your tears, Merlin, it’s alright.”

Merlin all but falls into the firm cradle of Leon’s embrace, letting the knight tuck his head into the ginger curls and cup the back of his neck. His breaths are coming in great shuddering gasps and it hurts, it hurts, his veins feel like they’re on fire.

“Calm yourself, Merlin,” Leon says in a low, even voice, “it’s alright. You’re safe.”

Merlin’s safe, because Merlin has magic, but Leon isn’t. Leon is just a knight—he’s never been just a knight, but he’s just a knight, and Merlin is fire and chaos and he will hurt him.

“You won’t,” comes the steady reply when Merlin whimpers that he will, Leon has to run before he destroys him, “you wouldn’t hurt me, Merlin, not ever.”

But I could, an awful voice whispers in his head, I could tear you apart, bit by bit, without even lifting a finger.

Something clenches in his gut that sends it roiling. He pitches to the side and dry heaves, horrible bitterness coating the back of his tongue.

“You’re alright,” Leon murmurs, still rubbing his back in slow, reassuring circles, “it’s alright, Merlin, everything’s alright.”

“No—no—it’s not—“

“Hush now, Merlin, don’t try and speak yet, just let this go.”

The ball of hurt in Merlin’s stomach snaps and unsnaps, coiling and recoiling until he’s dizzy, leaning entirely on Leon. Leon, of course, doesn’t even flinch at having the weight of an entire man on him. Instead, he sweeps Merlin into his arms and carries him a little further, settling him on the ground and wrapping his cape protectively around the two of them.

“It’s all gone—“ Merlin chokes— “I destroyed it, I destroy everything—“

“That’s not true, Merlin,” Leon says softly, “you know it isn’t.”

“I ruin everything!”

“You don’t,” comes the reassurance, soft, steady, unwavering, “and you know you don’t. Everything is alright, Merlin, no one is hurt, nothing is the matter, just rest.”

“I’m sorry,” he gasps out, unable to escape the blackness roiling in his chest, “I’m sorry I have magic.”

Shame blossoms in the wake of his words, the tears following shortly after.

Leon simply wipes them away with a gentle hand, soothing Merlin’s whispered apologies with every stroke.

“Never apologize for being who you are, Merlin,” Leon says firmly, holding Merlin’s unflinching gaze, “the world would be all the lesser for it.”

“P-promise?”

It’s the plea of a child. A desperate, frightened, lonely child.

If Merlin refuses to let go of Leon for the next few hours after Leon promises, well, that’s his business, not yours.

The first time Arthur tells him that he loves him, Merlin smiles as he tells him he loves him back.

#bbc merlin #Merlin #merlin bbc #merthur #merthur fic #fic #dragonbabbles

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Barba x reader based off Barba returning to SVU? He’s working as the defense in the reader’s coming trial with Sonny representing her. The reader and Barba dates before he left the show. He needed to move on and the reader wasn’t ready to leave New York. Barba genuinely believes the defendant is innocent and is still in love with the reader, but can’t see his friend go to jail for something he doesn’t believe he did. Angst or fluff; however you want to end it! Thank you!!

Time Heals

A/N: Yesssss. I love this; this is one of my favorite things I’ve written in a while tbh. I hope you enjoy, anon <3

Disclaimer: This is written before the episode Rafael comes back, so sorry for any inconsistencies for when that happens!

Tags: rape mention (reader was date-raped), angst with a happy ending

Words: 2102

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @glowingmess @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws

(gif by @sseureki)

You rubbed your left hand nervously, a tick you picked up three years ago, waiting for Sonny to come back from the coffee machine with a cup for you both. You tried to stop your hands from shaking, your knee bouncing and your breathing picking up as you remembered the night that had changed your life, the reason you were in Sonny’s office in the first place. You had been attacked nearly two months ago; a date that had ended in you being drugged and waking up without your clothes on, sore everywhere. It still made you feel sick to your stomach, even though you had been a detective with SVU, dealt with victims of just this kind of thing for years. Olivia had sent you to a great therapist, and the nightmares had stopped soon enough.

Sonny finally came back, placing the coffee on the table in front of you, and you mumbled a thanks. “How are ya feeling, [Y/N]?” he asked softly, placing a hand over yours. Sonny was your partner once upon a time, and you were still close.

“I wish people would stop asking me that,” you replied, smiling. He still looked concerned, so you said, “I’m fine, Son. Just…a little shaky, still. I just want this over and done with.” You sighed heavily, running a hand over your face.

“I know, doll. Soon, I promise. We got Adams on tape leaving the bar with you, taking you back to your hotel room, leaving the hotel an hour later, and his confession. We got this scumbag,” he said with conviction.

You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee. Kendrick Adams was the man you had gone on a date with…and the man who date raped you. He seemed pretty upset about it, but you had no sympathy for the man who had forced himself inside you. The one silver lining is that he had used a condom; you had no STDs, and you weren’t pregnant.

“Has he got a new defense attorney yet?” you asked, idly stirring your coffee with the small, wooden stirring stick. His old attorney was court appointed, and was not doing a good job representing him. Fin, as much as you loved the man, wasn’t so sure Adams was guilty. He thought that during the confession, Adams seemed confused, upset, and he recanted three days later.

“Call it a gut feeling,” Fin had said, earning a glare from you and Sonny. Both of you were ex-Detectives, and you both knew the accuracy of gut feelings, and while you could admit that Fin was usually correct, you were positive that he wasn’t. Not this time.

“Yeah, I’m meetin’ them today. I’m not sure who it is, though,” Sonny replied, shuffling some papers around. “In 30 minutes, actually.”

“Mind if I hang around? I’d like to know who’s trying to defend that asshole.”

Sonny gave you a long stare. “Technically, you’re not allowed to. But, if you were to, I don’t know, leave 5 minutes beforehand, bump into them….”

You gave him a smirk. “Thanks Sonny.”

***********************

You didn’t even get a chance to make your early exit before there was a knock on the door, presumably the defense attorney. You glanced at Sonny, who rose his eyebrow before saying, “uh, come in.” Your breath caught when in walked Rafael Barba. Time seemed to stop as his bright green eyes slid to yours, locking there in surprise. He looked…different. Not just the salt and pepper beard. But he looked happier than the last time you had seen him, more…alive. He still had a deep sadness in his eyes, but the last time you had seen him, he was defeated, a shell. Now, he at least looked like a person again. He resembled the man you had fallen in love with all those years ago. You unconsciously rubbed at your left hand, and his eyes flickered down to the motion. Just like that, the spell was broken, and you sucked in a deep breath.

“Please tell me this is a joke,” you muttered, suddenly remembering why he was there, that this wasn’t random chance. Rafael simply gaped at you. “Are you really a defense attorney? For fucking Adams?”

“Nice to see you, too, Detective,” Rafael said, eyes narrowing. “Yes, I am defending Adams. And you’ll find that my client is innocent.”

“Innocent my ass,” you sneered, standing angrily.

“[Y/N], let’s not—” Sonny started, but Rafael cut him off.

“He is innocent, and I’ll prove it in court. That is, unless ADA Carisi is willing to talk deals.”

You stomped up to Rafael, blood boiling, getting right up into his face. “Fuck deals, Raf. I want that bastard dead. Rotting in a fucking cell.”

“What do you have against this guy, huh? Call you a bad name in the interrogation room?”

Sonny spoke up again. “Barba, don’t—”

“Cause he fucking raped me!” you screamed in Rafael’s face. You watched his face go through every human emotion you could think of in the span of a few seconds, ending with a profound remorse.

“[Y/N]…I’m—” he started, but you shoved past him, slamming the door to Sonny’s office as you left, tears falling freely down your face. This was the first time you had seen Rafael in three years, and this was not how you thought this reunion would go. Your heart still strained when you thought about his bright green eyes. And that beard certainly made him more attractive. But he was defending your rapist, and you didn’t know how you could deal with that. You rubbed your left hand nervously, making your way outside, trying to find some air.

**********************

Sonny informed you that him and Rafael were unable to come to a deal, and that Rafael was going for a plea of not guilty. You wanted to hate him, to be pissed and to just…hate him. But you couldn’t. You had spent too many years loving Rafael, and a small part of your brain kept thinking that if Rafael thought Adams was innocent…well, maybe something was there. But how could you be so wrong? How could all of SVU be so wrong?

“We’ve been wrong before,” Fin mentioned, shrugging nonchalantly, as if this wasn’t your life. It made you want to scream.

You tried to move on with your life, enjoy your retirement, stopping by One Hogan Place to talk with Sonny whenever he asked you to. He made sure to schedule you on separate days from Rafael, so that you wouldn’t run into him, and you were forever grateful. But just knowing he was in the same city as you made the hairs on your arms stand up on end, and you weren’t quite sure if that was a good thing or not.

Finally, you couldn’t avoid him anymore, not when he showed up at your front door, a bouquet of multicolored roses in his hand.

“Can we talk?” Rafael asked, hopeful.

“Should I have counsel?” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shuffled awkwardly on his feet. “[Y/N]…please…not about the trial. About us.”

Sighing, you moved out of the way, letting Rafael enter your apartment. It felt small with him there, much smaller than the place you both shared a lifetime ago. He glanced around appreciatively, before turning back to you, offering you the flowers. You took them, closing your eyes at the beautiful scent. He followed you to the kitchen while you found a vase, filling it with water.

“You still look beautiful, cariño,” Rafael murmured as you placed the flowers in the vase. You felt your eyes fill with tears, but you blinked them away rapidly, not wanting him to see.

“Why are you here, Raf?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from wavering. Looking at the sadness in his eyes, it was a struggle to not cross the distance between you, to not hug him until he was happy again.

“I—I wanted to see you. I told you when I left that I still loved you; that hasn’t changed.”

You swallowed, rubbing at your left hand. You looked down at your hand, the faint tan line on your ring finger still visible, even after these three long years.

“Then why are you defending Adams?” you breathed.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Adams is…an old friend.” Rafael’s eyes locked to yours. “I know him, [Y/N]. He didn’t do this. And I refuse to see him go to jail for it. The evidence is circumstantial, at best, and you know it. You’re a detective—”

“I’m not a detective, Raf. Not anymore. I…I haven’t been a detective since you left. I just, I couldn’t do it anymore…” you trailed off.

“Oh,” was all he said. The silence dragged on, both of you unsure of what to say. He confessed that he still loved you, and he did honestly believe that Adams was innocent. Maybe he was right; the evidence was circumstantial…besides the confession, which Adams recanted shortly after. Liv told you he was claiming that you had seemed drunk and that he had helped you to your room. That he had held your hair while you vomited, then helped you to bed, staying with you until you fell asleep, hence why he was there for an hour before leaving. But if that were the case, then who assaulted you? Rollins and Kat already interviewed the hotel staff, the people on the same floor as you, and the security in the hotel, with no new leads.

“Where does this leave us?” Rafael finally asked, eyes searching yours. “Do you still…do I still have a chance with you?”

You swallowed under his intense stare. “I—I don’t know, Raf. I still…I still have feelings for you. I know that we agreed to take a break while you…figured things out. But that was three years ago, Rafael! I just—I don’t…and with all this shit with Adams—”

“I understand. Really, I do. I’m…I’m willing to wait for you. Hell, I’m willing to start all over again, relearn everything about you. Please, just give me a chance,” Rafael pleaded, taking a step closer to you.

“How do I know you won’t leave again?” you murmured, stopping him in his tracks.

His face fell, his hands clenching at his sides. “I’m here to stay; I promise.”

“As a defense attorney?”

Rafael winced. “Not all defense attorneys are bad, [Y/N]. Besides, I’ll only do it if I’m convinced my client is innocent. I’m not in it for the money; I’m in it to keep innocent people out of jail. I’m—it’s still me, cariño…I haven’t changed that much in the past three years. I’ve just…I’ve found myself again.”

You looked at him, really looked. Rafael’s hair had grey streaks, a speckled beard hiding that sarcastic mouth you loved. His bright, seafoam eyes were still alert, intelligent, locked to yours in question. He had more lines on his face, but the dark circles that used to be under his eyes had lessened. Even the way he held himself, the way he spoke, seemed lighter, less stressed. You suddenly wished, for the millionth time since he had left, that you had gone with him. But, at the time, you couldn’t force yourself to leave New York. Even if it meant losing Rafael for a little. Neither of you knew it would be this long. This date with Adams was actually your first date since Rafael left.

“I don’t think it would be good for Sonny’s case if I dated the defendant’s defense attorney,” you said, a soft smile pulling at your lips.

Rafael grinned, coming to you and pulling you into a tight hug, his cologne comforting, even after all this time. He placed a kiss on your cheek, his beard tickling your skin.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Rafael murmured into your ear.

“I am, too,” you whispered back, fresh tears in your eyes. “But, if not Adams…who?”

He leaned back to look at you. “I don’t know…I wish I did, but Kendrick doesn’t know, either. He really did just take care of you before leaving you in your room. My best guess is one of the hotel staff…maybe the bartender? They have a separate elevator; I’ll have Liv check the tapes.”

You nodded. “And us?”

“I agree that we should wait until this trial is over. Then…dinner?”

“Dinner sounds lovely,” you replied, giving Rafael another hug. It would take time to get back to where you were before. But maybe this time, the two of you would get married.

#rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #I'm not tagging this as spoilers #because this is all speculation #Anonymous

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iatethepomegranate · 3 years

Text

We are not alone in the dark with our demons: Chapter 9

A fic in which Caleb buys a house with Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, learns to be a person, and fights to protect others from what happened to him.

Content warnings: Caleb's backstory, implied abuse, medical trauma

Chapter summary: The morning comes, and there are two boys who need Caleb's help.

Chaper notes: My writing is slowing a bit, and work is starting to pick up. Updates will probably be slower from now on. Chapter title is from Woodwork by Sleeping At Last

****

Chapter 9: The world reappears and it breaks us new

The morning was slow. Essek read as Caleb lay in bed for a while, taking stock of the aches in his body and the cracks in his psyche. Caduceus had healed most of his injuries, leaving him mostly with minor aches and pains that were no different than he had experienced on the road. And the help from Caduceus and Essek last night had meant he had been able to sleep. Not as much as he needed, really, but enough that he wasn’t going to burst into tears if someone looked at him funny.

He was as okay as he was going to be. He soaked in the last few moments of warmth in bed, and Essek’s hand scratching his scalp like he would a cat, before heaving himself up and getting ready for the day ahead. This one would be difficult, too.

They ate breakfast together on the floor of Nico’s room, conversing quietly. Caduceus had served grilled tomatoes with poached eggs, toast and fried mushrooms in a generous sauce of butter, mixed herbs Caleb couldn’t place, and a ton of garlic. Food was more appealing this morning, and Caleb was famished. He also had a headache, probably from dehydration, so Caduceus had brought him a huge glass of water.

“Caddy, you could be a professional cook,” Beauregard said through a mouthful of food.

“Swallow your food before talking,” Caduceus said, ignoring her comment aside from a small smirk.

She swallowed. “Whatever, man.”

Essek was eating carefully, like he was afraid to spill anything on the floor. “Do we know when your old friends are arriving, Caleb?”

“They didn’t give us an exact time,” said Beauregard. “So who the fuck knows?”

“No later than eleven,” said Caleb. “Possibly by ten. They said they would be here in the morning.”

“I mean, 11:59 is still technically morning.”

“Not for Volstrucker.”

Caleb watched the others as their shoulders tightened, jaws clenched, eyes burned with fury at the implications they read in Caleb’s soft tone. Before they collectively breathed out and went back to eating. It was an odd mix of comfort and sadness to see how strongly they were affected by what he, and by extension the Volstrucker, had been through. He felt okay enough in this moment that it didn’t break him.

Essek laid a hand on his knee. Silent comfort. And he was okay enough that that didn’t break him, either. Even as tired as he was.

He helped Caduceus wash the dishes afterwards, needing to do something with his hands while they waited. As they stacked the dried dishes and put them away, Caduceus spoke for the first time since they had begun.

“You look better.” Caduceus kept his voice neutral, as if making a casual observation. Caleb was grateful for that.

“I feel better. Thank you for last night.”

“Oh, psh.”

That was the extent of their discussion on the matter. Wulf and Astrid arrived shortly thereafter, moving stiffly with poorly-concealed pain. Caleb met them at the door. Astrid headed straight upstairs with barely a word, but Wulf lingered in the centre of the living room.

He watched Astrid’s departure with a tense quirk to the corner of his mouth. “So, we all agree yesterday was fucked up, right?”

“I am the last person to disagree, Wulf.”

His eyes slid to Caleb’s; his face was stern as it often was, but there was pain in his eyes that he probably wasn’t displaying by choice. “You all right?”

“As all right as I can be, I suppose.” It was true now; it hadn’t been last night. “You?”

“Hm.” His mouth twitched. Looked away. “Not my favourite memory to revisit.”

In the moment, there had been no time for hesitation. Caleb had needed to give directions and get shit done. And he had known Wulf was the best option to handle Nico in whatever state they found him in.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb said. “You had the best chance with him.”

“I know.” Wulf exhaled through his nose, rubbing his wrists and hands as all of them often did to work out the kinks of repeated spellwork. The three of them used to do it for each other. Now Caleb and Essek sometimes did. He wondered if Wulf and Astrid still did it. “For better or worse, I have experience.” He swallowed. “There were no good options. Didn’t like to watch you run into a burning building, either, but…” He looked away.

Caleb wasn’t sure what to say. They were still awkward with each other. It wasn’t that long ago that Wulf had quite literally stabbed him. And now Wulf had just spoken more to Caleb than he had in a very long time. He was still rubbing his hands, looking everywhere but Caleb, and the whole thing was extremely uncomfortable.

Caleb had been uncomfortable a lot in social situations, especially in the last year. He could take it. And he could easily either wait Wulf out or bait him into speaking whatever else was on his mind.

“Wulf.” Caleb found the right tone, the one he had once used to break Wulf down when he was having a bad day and wasn’t talking about it.

Wulf closed his eyes, his grimace becoming an irritated half-smile. “What?”

Caleb waited. Wulf looked at him, annoyed. Caleb smiled at him. Wulf looked away, swearing under his breath.

“Wulf,” Caleb said slowly, “what’s the matter?”

He crossed his arms (great forearms as always), shoulders hunched a little. And when he spoke, it was almost too quiet for Caleb to hear. “Can I have a hug?”

“Ja, of course.” Caleb would be lying if he said he’d expected that, but he certainly wasn’t going to turn Wulf down. They were both going through a lot right now, and despite the light stabbing, Caleb did still care a great deal for him.

Wulf didn’t move. Caleb waited a moment longer, until it was clear Wulf was not going to initiate. So he stepped forward and put his hands on Wulf’s shoulders until he looked at him.

“All right,” Caleb said. “Come here.” He slid his arms around him, and Wulf stepped forward, tentatively holding onto his waist. Wulf relaxed into the hug, folding downwards until his forehead met Caleb’s shoulder.

He breathed, and shuddered a little. Caleb held him tighter, and could feel the barest tremors surging through Wulf’s body. His hands spasmed on Caleb’s back.

When they finally separated, Wulf cleared his throat, straightened his coat and said, “Not one word. To anyone.”

“Don’t worry,” Caleb said wryly, “your reputation is safe.”

Wulf raised his eyebrow; it was attractive. “Cute.”

“Some things haven’t changed.”

The moment was taut, like stretched twine. Wulf chuckled. “Some things have.”

“Oh?”

There was a soft laugh from the stairs; Astrid had evidently doubled back. “Careful, Wulf. His drow boyfriend is upstairs.”

The tension snapped; Wulf stepped back, the ghost of laughter still on his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know how you seduced the Shadowhand of all people, but you were always really fucking charismatic.”

Caleb looked towards the stairs, past Astrid. “It was more complicated than that, but… here we are.” They had wasted enough time. “Let’s do this.”

The others were already assembled in Nico’s room, Caduceus carefully portioning out the correct amount of diamond dust. Essek was posted up in the corner by the door, while Beau and Yasha filled the space closer to the bed. Caleb positioned himself on the other side of the door from Essek. Wulf moved in to fill a gap near Beauregard, and Astrid moved closer to Caduceus. Nico knew her best, as far as Caleb could tell. It was a good spot to be.

Caduceus looked to Caleb. “Anything we should be prepared for?”

“Hard to say,” Caleb replied, reluctantly digging into his fragmented memories of his time like this. “He will be disoriented. Likely afraid. Have we taken all his spell components?”

“Everything we could find,” Beauregard replied. He did not like the uncertainty in her tone.

“Those of us who can counterspell should prepare,” said Caleb. “Just in case. Muscle, be ready to grab him. He might not…” He sighed. “My situation was different. I knew where I was. I knew I was in danger. He may be more confused than I was.” Caleb had been confused and disoriented, but the fear of recognising that he was in a room at the sanatorium had overridden all of that. Adrenaline had pushed him towards survival. He had no idea how Nico would react. But in an unfamiliar place, with mostly unfamiliar people, realising the memories that drove him to murder his parents were false?

It was going to be ugly.

“One moment,” said Essek. He pulled out a pearl and pressed it to Caleb’s forehead, casting Fortune’s Favour. He did the same for everyone except Caduceus and himself. He could, in theory, have cast it using a higher level slot to catch more people at once and save his pearls, but it would come at the cost of losing more powerful spells he may need later. Caleb had a stash of pearls in his study, and was already plotting to make Essek accept them. Then Essek situated himself at the door once again.

“Do you have Counterspell?” Caleb asked him, having never seen Essek cast it.

“I picked it up recently.”

“Good.” Caleb took a deep breath. “Ready, Caduceus?”

“Ready.” Caduceus began to cast, reaching out to touch Nico’s forehead. He closed his eyes, brow furrowed, and Caleb was concerned what effect this may have on him. Then there was a bright light and the diamond dust vanished from his hand. Caduceus pulled back.

All eyes on Nico. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, groaning. Then he sat up, eyes darting around the room, pausing on Astrid for a second, and Wulf. And then a gasp. His hands were moving.

Caleb counterspelled. It didn’t take. He burned his mote. It didn’t take. There was a split second where his mind slowed time and he watched every other caster try to unravel Nico’s spell. And fail.

A huge roar. A burst of light and heat. Caleb’s head cracked against something solid and his vision went dark.

Then hands were on him, and he was awake. Caduceus pulled him to his feet, and rushed over to Essek, who was curled up in pain but conscious, casting Ray of Frost at flames licking the walls.

The others had already made it to their feet. Nico was nowhere to be found.

Astrid shook her head like a dog shaking off water. “We need to move.”

“We’ll stay here and handle the fire,” Caduceus said, helping Essek to his feet.

The rest of them were out the door in seconds, Beau and Yasha in the lead because they were fast as fuck. They spilled out into the street.

“Bren,” said Astrid, “thoughts?”

“Check all routes out of the city. I’ll message the Cobalt Soul. You message any Volstrucker who may help.”

“We’ll link up with the monks,” said Beauregard, grabbing Yasha’s hand and rushing south towards the Court of Colours.

Caleb had an idea. “Wulf, would you like to be a giant eagle?”

“Do it.”

Caleb grabbed his cocoon and cast. Wulf’s form shifted into a huge eagle, and he took to the air, almost buffeting Caleb off his feet.

Astrid tugged Caleb northward. “I suspect he knows the northern areas better.”

“Right.” Caleb pulled out his copper wire. “High Curator, Nicolaus has been restored, but he fled. Beauregard is on her way to ask your aid.”

“We will mobilise the monks. Thank you for the warning.”

Astrid had shot a quick message to one of the Volstrucker. Caleb spotted a Crownsguard on the nearest street corner.

“Excuse me!”

The guard took them in, taking special note of Astrid. “Uh, yes? How can I help?”

“Have you seen a young man with dark hair, no coat or shoes, come through this area?”

“I don’t believe so, no.”

“If you do,” said Astrid, “do not engage.”

“Is he a threat, Archmage?”

“He is a frightened young man,” said Caleb. “He is not a threat if he is not threatened.”

“Get the word out,” said Astrid. “If I hear he has been harmed, there will be consequences.”

Caleb pointed to the giant eagle overhead. “Oh, and he’s with us.”

Then Caleb and Astrid ran further north, towards the market. Caleb was already doubting himself; maybe looping in the Crownsguard had been a mistake. And Caleb had used his one concentration spell to turn Wulf into an eagle, so there was precious little he could do magically from here.

“Caleb,” came Essek’s voice. “Caduceus communed with his god. The boy has a spellcasting focus. He is moving north. That is all we know. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Stay safe.” Caleb looked to Astrid. “Nico has a spellcasting focus and is moving north.” He then passed the information to Beauregard with another Sending. And one to Wulf; he recalled somewhat understanding Common while in giant eagle form himself. Astrid Sent to her Volstrucker contact.

“The Volstrucker are mobilising to reach the gates,” she told him.

“What are Nico’s favourite spells?” Without his spellbook, the boy would be limited in his casting. “Aside from Fireball.”

“Mostly Evocation spells,” said Astrid. They were reaching a crowd at the market, which was going to be a problem. She grabbed Caleb’s hand, pulling him along, both their heads on a swivel. “He’s a firebug like you.”

“Any illusions we should worry about?”

“Disguise Self, most likely. I don’t know if he had it prepared.”

“I guess we will have to watch for body language as well.” This was a fucking mess. All this preparation, and they’d managed to lose the boy anyway. If he had managed to disguise himself, it would have been a simple task to move through the market unnoticed.

“Caduceus is attempting to scry,” said Essek. “I will update you.”

“Danke schön. We are in the market. Volstrucker are moving ahead. He may have disguised himself.”

The market was just walls of sound and people and distraction everywhere. If Nico were were, they weren’t going to find him. So they pushed ahead onto the other side, catching their breath.

“I’m starting to think this is a fool’s errand,” Astrid muttered, pressing a palm to her ribs.

“Are you hurt?”

“No more than you.”

There wasn’t time to argue the matter. “Do you have Invisibility prepared today? Or Fly? I have to keep Wulf in the air.”

“I have Trent’s boots today. I can turn you invisible, or help you Fly.”

“Flight may be best. We do not want to lose track of each other.”

Astrid cast the spell and activated her boots, sending them both into the air. They soared to the nearest rooftop and landed, watching the market with a better vantage point.

“We should move ahead,” said Caleb. “If he’s still here, we won’t see him in the market.” They flew further north, dimly aware that children were pointing at them. So much for keeping this quiet; Ludinus would no doubt hear about this. And be a pain in the ass.

They paused on another rooftop; the northeastern gates were visible from here. Caleb’s heart sank further with each passing second.

“The scry went through but he cannot see much. The boy is disguised; a half-elf girl with red hair and freckles. Dressed as a barmaid.” Essek cast the spell again. “Not much detail around him. There are stones, but also dirt. He’s running now.”

“He may be outside the city. Thank you.” Caleb pushed off the roof, trusting Astrid to follow. He Sent to Beauregard. “Caduceus scried. Nico’s disguised as a red-haired half-elf barmaid. I think he’s outside the city. He’s running.”

Beauregard’s response began with a drawn-grown. “Motherfucker. We’ll head out the southeast gate and curve north.”

Astrid had also Sent to her Volstrucker contact. They flew for as long as the spell lasted, touching down close to the city gates. The Righteous Brand soldiers guarding the gate watched them curiously as they ran past, but made no move to stop them. Astrid’s authority was saving them a lot of grief today.

They searched the road, the fields. But it became more and more evident that Nico had evaded them. Eadwulf touched down beside them as the spell ended and he was human again. Caleb leaned against a fencepost, willing himself not to crack.

“We should regroup,” said Astrid. “Your place, Bren?”

He nodded. Took a deep breath. Started walking. He Sent one last message to Beauregard. She and Yasha linked up with them near the gate. They walked back to the house together.

****

Caleb was used to feeling like a failure. But this one hurt more than most. The group sat in Beau and Yasha’s living room, drinking tea Caduceus had made.

“Caleb, you’ve got the most experience here,” said Beauregard. “What’s the kid thinking?”

The answer was simple. “Get out.”

“Where would you have gone?”

“The nearest woods,” said Caleb. “For me, that was the Pearlbow Wilderness. He may try to head there. Lots of cover, places to hide, few people.”

“I can scry on him again,” said Caduceus.

“Go ahead.”

Caduceus set his teacup aside and closed his eyes, concentrating. It would take a few minutes.

“I will have the Volstrucker search the area,” said Astrid. “If the scry works, we will have an easier time.”

“I’ll see if we can spare a few monks to back you up,” replied Beauregard.

“He won’t go near Vergesson,” said Wulf.

“No,” Caleb agreed. The thought of the boy coming anywhere near that place made him physically ill. “He will lay low for a bit, and then probably go looking for a small town on the edge of civilization. Somewhere no one would expect to find a wizard. He has fire for warmth, evidently, but food and water will be an issue.”

“Think he could survive in the woods?” asked Beauregard.

“Probably.” Caleb had.

“We’ll find him,” Essek said quietly. He was not a man given to empty platitudes.

“I hope so.”

The energy in the room was almost depleted. The group sat there, deflated, while Caduceus worked through his ritual. At the point, by Caleb’s count, that the spell should have connected, Caduceus jolted and opened his eyes. He shook his head.

“He resisted. I can try again tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Caleb hadn’t meant to speak. It was… this hurt. A lot.

Caduceus scanned the group. “Who needs healing?”

Everyone, really. Astrid and Wulf grudgingly accepted the assistance, and were unable to hide how much they visibly relaxed in relief.

“Bren, meet me in my office,” said Astrid. “I will mobilise the Volstrucker in the meantime.”

“I’ll talk to the monks,” said Beauregard.

****

Caleb took a few minutes to himself before walking to the Academy. Just a moment to sit in his study, count and sort the various inkwells he now owned, and breathe. The others let him have that time.

Then, he headed out with a purpose. Astrid was already settled behind her desk when he arrived.

“The Volstrucker are organising for a search pattern,” she said, waving at him to sit at a seat in front of the desk. She had switched to Zemnian the instant they were alone. “It’s out of our hands at this point. We have another matter to discuss.”

“Felix.” Caleb sighed, and almost felt like was going to collapse the floor with the force of it. At least the chair caught him. “He needs to go home. And we need to tell him the whole story of what happened with Nico. I can teach him Sending. If Felix is up to it, a familiar voice might help.”

“I agree,” said Astrid. “We also have to explain the situation to Felix’s parents. That will be challenging.”

Caleb tried to imagine how his own parents would have reacted if they had learned their own son was ordered to kill them, and intended to do it. He was not strong enough to follow through on that thought experiment. Not today. Maybe not ever.

“We need to put him back in school when he’s ready,” Caleb said. “He will stew in this if we let him.”

“If you would like to convince his parents, be my guest.”

“That may be a conversation for another day. How much does Felix know about what happened with Nico?”

“That Nico followed through on the order, but we are taking care of him.”

“And now we have to tell him we fucked up. Again.”

Astrid laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. “No. We prepared best we could. He was searched as much as your friends could without invading his privacy. We were ready with counterspells. But fear is a powerful motivator. You know that.”

Caleb had rolled out of bed and overpowered one of Ikithon’s guards. An important one, given he had an amulet. And, of course, Essek had once dragged him from under a tower with his bare hands. People could stretch themselves past their usual limits if under enough duress. Trent had operated under that philosophy.

“Bren,” Astrid said, quiet but firm. “I know this is a lot, but I need you to hold it together.”

Caleb breathed, and steadied himself. “I can do that.”

“I know.” She reclined in her seat, casting around her copper wire. “Felix, do you mind if Bren and I pay you a visit? We have news.” She listened. “All right. Let’s go.”

They walked the familiar path to the dormitories. Caleb had been so proud to walk these halls once. Maybe he could be again, but it would never be the same.

They found Felix in his temporary room, seated at a wooden desk with his spellbook, glaring at the pages. He tore his eyes away as they entered, slamming it shut.

“How’s Nico?”

Astrid looked at Caleb for three seconds. “Felix, do you remember what Trent told you about Bren?”

“He said a lot of things,” Felix said warily.

“Nicolaus and I had similar responses to following Trent’s orders,” said Caleb. “We took him to my house to keep him away from the Assembly and let him rest overnight. This morning, my friend Caduceus restored him.”

“He fled, despite our best efforts,” said Astrid. “We have people out searching for him.”

Felix still had his hand on his textbook, slowly sliding downward as his grip slackened. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

“When Nicolaus killed his parents, he had a… break.” Caleb was not good at explaining this. “He was awake, but unresponsive. Caduceus had a spell to pull him out of it, but coming back from that is disorienting. Despite the steps we took to prepare, he hit us with a fireball and escaped while we recovered.” Gods, Nico was probably injured, and without a healer.

Felix burst from seat. “And? Did you go after him?”

“Yes, of course,” said Astrid. “We searched from the ground and the air. And we have leads, and people are still following them. I have mobilised the Volstrucker and Bren’s expositor friend has mobilised the Cobalt Soul. We are not easy people to find when we do not want to be found, but we will keep searching. Bren had an idea, if you would like to help.”

Felix looked at her like she had slapped him. “Of course I want to help!”

Caleb paid his agitation no mind. “We floated the idea of teaching you the Sending spell yesterday. We did not have time then, but we have it now. Then, you can talk to him.”

“Okay. Teach me.”

“Here? Or would you rather we bring you home first?”

Felix laughed, and it was more unhinged than Caleb would have liked. “Yeah, okay, take me back to the people I almost fucking murdered.”

Astrid crossed her arms, gazing sternly up at him. “Felix.”

“It’s all right, Astrid,” said Caleb. “This will take a few hours. Let’s make use of those Academy resources, ja?” Most dormitory rooms had a supply of paper and ink, enough to transcribe a few spells at a time. He found a stash in the desk and sat on the floor, laying it all out in front of him. He beckoned to Felix. “Shall we?”

Felix scrubbed at his eyes and sat down with Caleb, slamming his spellbook onto the wooden boards. Astrid retreated, with some excuse about keeping an eye out for the Martinet, and a promise she would get the kitchen staff to send them a snack.

Caleb had lost a lot of his confidence around people a long time ago, but he knew pain when he saw it. He knew a little something about pain.

And a little something about hurt wizards looking desperately for a distraction by throwing themselves into study.

#caleb widogast #professor widogast #shadowgast #astrid beck #eadwulf grieve #critical role #cr2 #fanfiction #my fics #the pomegranate's professor widogast fic

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