#also for what it's worth you can send in drawing prompts for these guys any time and if it sparks something within me I will draw them

[iactivatepotofgreed]

I miss your proshipping (edo x ryo) art so effing much ;_;

HAH!!! You activated my trap card! When you mention ryo and edo my brain malfunctions and I'm forced to draw them. Looking pretty foolish now huh..? Hehehe.........

#yugioh gx #ryo marufuji #edo phoenix #proshipping #aster phoenix #zane truesdale #admin: fight the fight #also for what it's worth you can send in drawing prompts for these guys any time and if it sparks something within me I will draw them #victoryshipping #thank you very nice person who informed me of the new name I was going to ask about that #I didn’t want to incite anyone to fight about it though bc I keep out of all of that stuff I’m too old for it #art

[shirefantasies]

Hi Marti! I think I've got a doozy for ya, hope your up for it. How do you think The Company of Thorin Oakenshield would go about trying to set two folks up, like romantically? What's everyone's like technique I guess- who's more straightforward with introducing people to eachother, who's a background guy like manipulating things so the two potential lovebirds end up sharing space at a public event, who's talking up the other person when they aren't around, who's explicitly like 'you and this person would make a cute pair.' and. and and and- most importantly- how does this change if this involves their brothers/relations? I'm grinning so damn hard rn, I believe in you!

I'm absolutely obsessed with this ok??? YES 🅱️LS (also, portraying this like it’s you & another company member hehe)

Warnings: a suggestive joke or two

How Thorin’s Company Would Set You Up With Someone

Balin

✧ Sensible, subtle, simple. His approach will be more along the lines of getting you and his target to spend more time together.

✧ He’ll ask you both to go complete a task like gathering firewood together.

✧ As you two (even if forcibly) are spending more time together, he might start bringing them up more, daring to ask a question about that.

✧ One tell he has is the proud, sly little smile that can sometimes be seen upon his face as you two interact.

✧ When you two actually get together, he makes his grand reveal, smugly telling you both he’s been around long enough to be able to tell when two are right for each other.

Dwalin

✧ Has no clue what he’s doing, frankly, and likely is only doing it because his brother or someone else roped him into it.

✧ Or else he has a really strong protective instinct toward you, the other company member, or both. Then it becomes a matter of greater urgency, more based upon the concept of making sure you are with someone he trusts. Simply put, no one else will do.

✧ Rather than wax poetic, Dwalin prefers putting you in situations that display his target’s skills and worth. If they’re a fighter, he’ll send them in to save you, for example.

✧ Very subtle with the stereotypical ‘wingman’ comments, but they're there. “Looks like you got rescued today, eh?” "You know, if there's anyone I trust for help with that, why it would have to be..."

✧ His eyebrows raise when you actually announce this very soul to the company as your one, but he's the first to clap hands to your shoulders and bring up a shout of celebration.

Thorin

✧ By far the most awkward about it- he can barely process his own feelings, let alone others’.

✧ “I- I just want you to be happy.” Hopes you know what he means by that, but it’s a coin toss honestly.

✧ Relents and assigns you two joint tasks like unsaddling the ponies or gathering firewood, hoping that’s enough to help draw you closer.

✧ If one of you expresses any sort of heavy emotion, he actually does a really good job relating it to the other’s experience and directing you that way, prompting a heart-to-heart.

✧ Smiles widely and pulls you both lightly into his arms at the news, taking it as a sign of continuation and prosperity to come.

Oin

✧ Surprisingly one of the more discreet ones.

✧ Makes a lot of conversation as he patches you up anyway, so teasing questions about who amongst them you fancy most just seem to come with the job.

✧ Little do you know that the moment you spill, Oin turns around and starts teasing the other party about what a catch you are. What? He’s getting older, let him have his fun.

✧ He makes you his nursemaid of sorts to help the next time they get hurt. If you take great issue at such sights he’ll just ask you to keep them company upon being patched up.

✧ “I said it would be a match, and a match it is!” He calls out, fists pumped into the air at your revelation.

Gloin

✧ Physically shoves you in the direction of his intended target under the guise of merriment. Not hard, just enough to get them to turn and look at you and see the moment's right.

✧ Comes up with team games so you two can be on a team against him and whichever friend or brother he's roped in that time.

✧ Finding out if your feelings are true is in the interest of his betting pool, so Gloin is not above asking you the occasional alluding question, usually a small one like what your type is.

✧ The first to laugh heartily and slap you on the back if you display any sort of flirting behaviors!

✧ Shouts with wild abandon when you come out with it, racking up all his sacks of coins with glee before he grabs you two and gives you an affectionate, proud shake!

Bifur

✧ Silent observers are some of the most deeply perceptive individuals.

✧ Thus, whoever’s end it’s on, Bifur can see feelings blossoming, his head bobbing back and forth between you two with interest at nearly every interaction.

✧ Eagerly employs some rather…unorthodox… methods of seeing you set up. “I can steal his socks and give them to you so you can be the hero who finds them!”

✧ Begins telling both you and his intended match heavily exaggerated stories of each other’s great feats, completely unaware of the separate conversations about them you’ll then have.

✧ Grabs your hands and joins them when he hears the news, nodding and clapping proudly!

Bofur

✧ Can be obvious about it, but still one of the most natural.

✧ Throws an arm around you both, all but dragging you over to the fire to sing and dance with him…and more importantly each other!

✧ He’s often off doing the laundry, so he oh-so-innocently spills something one day and asks his target to surrender their shirt…right in your full view, of course!

✧ Pulls you into more jokes with whoever fancied, teasing them and then calling you out by name to join in: “Isn’t that right?” He winks at you the moment you look at him, the scoundrel!

✧ “See, didn’t I tell ya it was meant to be? Nothing but blessings from me, you two.”

Bombur

✧ Finds himself smiling and clasping his hands whenever you two interact. Maybe he can help it along...

✧ Excuse king. “Say, could you go fetch ‘im for me? …Why? Oh, because I borrowed something the other night.” “Can you sit there? It’s just I’m a bit warm, so I’d like to be further away from the fire if you please.”

✧ Being married himself, he understands some of the best how a good relationship starts, i.e. with a firm friendship. Thus he starts talking to you both and joking around more to make memories that bring you together!

✧ Also gives his targets credit for anything. “Lost one of my gloves the other day ‘n’ you’ll never guess who found it!”

✧ Beams and offers the biggest bear hugs he can when you announce your relationship. Bragging rights who? Bombur just loves love.

Dori

✧ Lives for the drama anyway, but general investment would grow tenfold if that person happened to be one of his little brothers.

✧ The questioning sort, suddenly asking you things like if you’ve ever considered settling down after this is all over and if so, any inklings with what type of person?

✧ Suddenly he can’t speak highly enough of this person even if it’s not one of his siblings, tossing it into your teatime conversations how they’re that strong or this skilled or he hears that family crafts the finest courting beads if he’s one of the dwarves.

✧ It’s enough that you pick up on what he’s doing and tell him that well, if that company member is interested then they’d best just tell you, prompting Dori to rush to them and try to convince them to confess.

✧ Whether they need the push or not, Dori’s target eventually makes a move, leaving the older dwarf to brag like a proud father, uncle, big brother, you name the dynamic he can do it!

Nori

✧ Not shy about any part of the whole affair. Watches you both with a shit eating grin.

✧ “So, if it had to be anyone there, who’d it be? …what, I can’t be the first one to be asking that, can I?”

✧ Heavily contemplates going the jealously route. Barring you getting uncomfortable, Nori starts being far more friendly with you and putting his arm around you more often to see what his target does.

✧ Proceeding, of course, to teasingly confront them about it later. “What, did it bother you? Wonder why. Maybe you oughta take that up with ‘em, then.”

✧ Some company members bought his act a little too well, gazes swiveling between you and your match and Nori himself as if expecting him to now be jealous.

Ori

✧ Surprisingly great at matchmaking- his fear of being discovered keeps him very very discreet, and he has a great sense for love.

✧ “Can you two sit right there? I’d like to get some drawings while we’ve got the time. Thank you! Oh, just a little bit closer. Little bit more. There we go!”

✧ The moment you need help, Ori knows someone who can help you! Sends you right their way with an innocent little smile.

✧ Has made it his business to have a general idea of what everyone likes, which comes quite well in handy pointing out to you that someone else in the company's got a similar interest or hobby. Grins to himself when he sees you actually approach them about it.

✧ Feels no need to come out and announce himself to you once you're together, but he brags about predicting and matchmaking you two endlessly to Dori, who listens with great pride.

Fili

✧ Having the absolute time of his life.

✧ He’s likely gotten up to this due to gaining the knowledge- or else it simply being that obvious- that one of you has feelings for the other or is attracted to them. Thus, teasing abounds!

✧ “Ever thought about it? …what? Why, you two, of course! Everyone else has, after all.”

✧ Leans on his sword or against a tree, giving his best attempt at a smooth pose as he whispers that they like you too. Yes, even if he isn't certain that you like them as well.

✧ "Finally!" He calls out the first time he sees you two kiss. It may earn him a smack, but it's worth it.

Kili

✧ Likely doing this teamed up with Fili and also having the absolute time of his life.

✧ Jokes around any time you two are paired for things. “Well you two make quite the handsome couple, don’t you?”

✧ Plays sides with whoever he's closest to, possibly with his brother falling to the person's other side. "Be honest, who do you think is the best looking of us all? What do you think of that one there?"

✧ "Come on now," he asks you directly if you have any interest in his target, especially if he knows you do, "you can tell me." This, of course, is punctuated with a wink.

✧ He wasn't expecting to actually become your confidant, but when you tell him you trust him with your news and that he's the first to know, he can't help beaming and pulling you into a hug.

Bilbo

✧ Insists to all the other company members that hobbits are the best at matchmaking, thank you. But that, of course, leaves him to prove it.

✧ Step one: food. Food is one of the greatest bonding agents known to hobbits, so Bilbo will task you with bringing your potential interest dinner and thus sitting at their side for the meal.

✧ Step two: common interests. Bilbo himself becomes something of a double agent, talking to one of you and then the other and dropping names at any good opportunity. Perhaps both of you knit. Maybe you need your blades sharpened and they've just done theirs. You could simply just have the same favorite animal and the both of you will know it by the time Bilbo is through.

✧ Step three: strategically moving your bedrolls to be right next to each other. What? It works! That night his target ends up rolling against you in his sleep and you lean up against him.

✧ When you wake up the following morning, shock overtakes you, then shy smiles and a private conversation that has Bilbo smirking to the rest of the company triumphantly.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit headcanons #thorin #thorin’s company x reader #balin #dwalin #oin #gloin #bifur #bofur #bombur #dori #nori #ori #fili #kili #bilbo #ask #anon #requested

[whack-ed]

“Just Friends” (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Synopsis: A halloween party was what it took for you to finally do what you wanted to do with Fred.

Warnings: make out; underage drinking and extremely flirtation.

Reader: Female

World Count: 2.5k

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay, I had some personal problems to solve, but here I am! this is a oneshot for the special A very Harry Potter Halloween by @masterofthedarkness and @eleven-times-lively​. This one is for the 30th with the prompt Halloween Party! Hope you like it :)

tag list: @nebulablakemurphy​ @jamilelucato​ @inglourious-imagines​ @acciotwinz​ @clarissaxpearce​ 

if you want to be tagged, send me a ask!

Finally October, the favorite time of year for Y/n. For various reasons, fantasies, sweets, the weather, absolutely everything Y/n loved most was present in October. But probably the thing the girl liked the better was the Weasley twins' Halloween party. And this year promised, it was the twins' last year at school and they promised the best Halloween party this school has ever seen.

Usually Y/n knew everything the twins were preparing, since they were a quartet. The twins, Y/n and Lee. These four names together gave chills to any teacher. But not this time. This year it was just Fred and George who were looking for trouble. The twins didn't let Y/n and Lee participate at all, the surprise was for everyone. And of course, Y/n's anxiety didn't leave the twins alone for a minute.

"Please Fred, tell me at least the color of the glasses!" Y/n insisted on Fred saying at least a little detail about the party. The secret was complete.

"I already said that I don't speak a word to you, Y/n" The redhead replied laughing.

They were in a history of magic class, automatically nobody was paying attention. The twins sat in the last row, Y/n and Lee just ahead.

"What are the drinks going to be, that's no big deal!" Lee asked as curious as Y/n.

"Not a word, Lee," George replied with a sly smile on his face, the same as the one on his brother's face.

"I hate you both" Y/n said irritably and turned forward.

Fred who was behind Y/n leaned forward and rested his head on the girl's shoulder, whispering her ear. Fred's proximity to Y/n's ear made the girl get goosebumps and close her eyes while the redhead spoke. "You don't miss out on waiting, baby"

George and Lee exchanged a look that they knew well what it meant. Y/n and Fred have always had this relationship ... doubtful. Nothing but indirect flirtations happened between the two, there was never anything else. George and Lee always questioned the two of them if something happened in the backstage that they didn't see, and of course, the answer was always the same "We are just friends". Only friends my ass, George thought. The boy knew his brother well to know when he was lying.

Fred then returned to his seat and Y/n kept her eyes closed digesting the sensation she had just had, wishing it had lasted a little longer. She opened her eyes slowly and blinked several times, returning to reality.

"My God, the sexual tension between you two can be cut with a knife," Lee said making the three friends laugh.

"We are just friends, you know that" Y/n replied and noticed that this time Fred's laugh was not genuine. Apparently George noticed it too. But of course it could only be Y/n's head.

The class passed slowly as usual, but amid laughter, scolding from the teacher and notes on the parchment, time finally passed. It was already lunchtime and Y/n couldn't be more thankful for that. Her thoughts could go from Fred to the mountain of mashed potatoes that awaited her.

Weeks passed and the twins had not yet given any information about the party. It wasn't just Lee and Y/n who were looking forward now, all seventh graders as well. The fact that Umbridge was taking care of the school, making so many rules, only made things more exciting. The twins couldn't be loud ... At least not in theory.

Now everyone was in the common room, some doing their homework and others just hanging out. Everything was calm until the most beloved twins in the world came in doing what they do best, drawing attention.

“My dear student friends" George was saying.

"Me and my dear brother, we finally have the invitations ready!" Fred completed.

"And what does that mean, bro?" George asked doing a theatrical pose.

"That not even the pink toad was able to stop the Weasley Twins!" Fred completed again by opening his arms also in a theatrical way.

“But it’s worth remembering that the party is only for people from the fifth year upwards” Some sad moans were heard from some students from the fourth year downwards “So my little grasshoppers, you who didn’t taste one of our Halloween parties, will have to look for that taste in our store! ” George announced and the sad moans automatically turned into happy faces.

“That's right! We believe that very soon, our store will have a physical point and will be 100% prepared to serve all of you little pests! ” Fred said laughing and started handing out the invitations.

The invitations were not common, as nothing the twins did was common, no one was surprised, just curious. They were orange sweets in the shape of mini pumpkins.

“But is this sweet? How should we know where and when to go with a sweet? ” Ron asked as soon as George handed him one of the pumpkins.

"I suggest taking a bite, little brother," Fred said mockingly, handing one to Y/n. "I made this one especially for you" And winked at the girl. Hers was Y/F/C , your favorite color. As soon as the girl saw the candy she smiled at Fred and got a little flushed.

As soon as Ron took a bite of the fearful candy, sparkles that resembled fireworks with a date, time and place emerged from the pumpkin.

"We just suggest that you don't eat it whole, eating the other piece makes you invisible for 15 minutes, so you can go to the party without drawing unnecessary attention" Fred said with a smile on his face, proud of what he had done.

It was amazing how these boys were the life of the party wherever they went. Y/n smile so proudly for the boys. After the euphoria of delivery of the pumpkins, the boys sat on the sofa with only a few students in the room, most of had already gone to sleep. Y/n was in an armchair by the fireplace, reading a book. Fred settled on the floor in front of the girl and rested his head on her knees. George sat next to Lee on the couch.

"Okay, now that we have everything set up, what will your fantasy be?" George asked to his friends.

"I was thinking of going as a werewolf" Lee replied playing with the hem of his shirt.

"What a cliché, Lee" Hermione who was finishing up her homework said from across the room. She, Harry and Ron were actually finishing up their homework. But everyone knew that the boys were just waiting for Hermione to finish copying hers.

"You're right, he should go as you Hermione, who knows, maybe someone will put limits on this party?" Ron replied laughing, immediately regretting because of Hermione's furious reaction.

"And what are you going to be dressed up for?" Y/n asked lowering the book, she had stopped paying attention long ago.

"Us? Secret too" Fred replied to the girl.

"You guys are getting unbearable with this, you know?" Y/n said looking at the twins.

"Just noticed now?" Lee said sarcastically.

Y/n snorted angrily and pulled her legs up so that Fred could no longer lean on them, causing the boy to turn his head to her laughing.

"You look so beautiful when you're mad" He said and stood up and give her a kiss on the cheek. "I think it's past time for us to go to sleep, we need energy to organize what comes tomorrow, Georgie"

George got up too and agreed with his brother, so the two went up to the dorm wishing everybody a good night.

"I'll see if I can get anything out of them before bed, good night, Y/n" Lee said and went after the twins.

Harry was already drooling at the table, Ron was almost, only Hermione was still focused. Y/n got up and headed for the girls' dorm.

"Good night, Mione" Y/n said.

"When are you two going to assume you have more than a friendship, Y/n?" Hermione asked before she went up. The girl laughed and shook her head.

"We are just friends"

The following days passed with Y/n listening to discussions to see what would be the fantasy of her friends. Lee really was a werewolf, Hermione was from an important witch that nobody really understood who was just that had something to do with defending giants, Ron was going as a auror, Harry as a  quidditch player, and of course the fantasy of Fred and George it was still a secret.

At breakfast on the day of the party, everyone was euphoric. The whispers came not only from the Gryffindor table, but from all of them, even some Slytherins were excited.

And because she kept her head elsewhere, Y/n ended up forgetting to think about her fantasy. Then, taking advantage of having a visit to Hogsmade that day, she asked Hermione for help in choosing a costume. The girls went to each clothing store until they found the perfect costume. That was it, they thought. It perfectly matched Y/n's personality.

The hours passed and now it was only an hour before the twins' Halloween party. The girls in Y/n's room were euphoric. They had pirates, healers, vampires, it looked like a children's book in one room. Y/n was finishing her makeup and would already be ready to leave. The outfit she had chosen was nothing less than court jester. Not a dull court jester, according to Hermione, and here I quote her words, she was a “sexually desirable jester”. A colorful short dress, socks to the thighs one of each color, hair tied with colored ribbons and a cute clown makeup. It was perfect.

"You look perfect, Y/n!" Angelina said to the girl with colored ribbons in her hair.

"You too, Angie, wonderful by the way!" Y/n said to her friend that was dressed as a fairy.

The two then descended together, meeting several people in costume in the main hall. And in the sea of mummies and mermaids, Y/n spotted the werewolf she was looking for.

“Lee! Lee! ” The girl called and Lee turned to see her.

"Y/n ... Bloody hell woman, now I understand what Fred talks about so much" Lee replied looking Y/n up and down.

"What does Fred say?" Y/n asked frankly eyebrows.

"He keeps saying you have phenomenal thighs," Lee replied, staring at her legs.

“Hey! Lee! Eyes up here! ” Y/n responded making the boy automatically look embarrassed, but then laughing.

"Let's go then?" Lee asked Y/n and she nodded.

The two then ate all the pumpkin and automatically the picture of the fat woman opening, looked like a passage of ghosts, no one was seen, all you could hear were footsteps and some muffled laughter through the corridors.

Finally, after walking a lot trying to make a minimum of noise, they reached the precise room. The door opened and the legion of students entered the place. When Fred and George said it was going to be the best Halloween party this school has ever seen, they weren't kidding.

There were already some students in the room, but the decor was clear. They had colorful and noiseless fireworks shining on the ceiling tirelessly, they seemed bewitched to last all night. The smoke on the ground made it look like a swamp, you could barely see people's feet. The tables set with various sweets with different shapes and a large bowl with punch, certainly alcoholic. The walls decorated with purple and orange ribbons all over the place. Of course, cobwebs, skeletons and pumpkins were placed in every corner. The music was loud, but it was not heard outside, they had also bewitched it. The only strange thing was that Fred and George were not yet in place.

More and more people were arriving and none of the twins. Y/n was having fun with Lee and other friends, but missed the redheaded duo. While some students were kissing in a corner and others were stuffing themselves with food, Y/n was dancing with a glass in her hand, like there's no tomorrow. She moved her hips from side to side without caring if she was drawing too much attention. Tonight was really for that.

The only part of the place that no one had understood was the stairway in the corner of the room that led to a balcony and a small door that nobody could open. After a while, Y/n ignored the stairs, and suddenly after the girl's third glass, the door made sense. It had opened up and the music had turned down the volume. There they were, Fred and George came out of the door in the costume of Kings. Y/n laughed with them and stopped dancing, looking at the boys.

"Feel free, my subjects, the party is yours today!" Fred said raising his hands.

"And remember, if you are not going to party like us, you can leave" George added.

"And let the party really start!" Fred shouted and everyone shouted in agreement.

The twins then descended the stairs, as if they were true kings. Strangely, their fantasy matched the boys perfectly. Y/n after seeing that the boys were already enjoying the party normally, she took another sip of her drink and started dancing again.

The music playing was sensual, and it is clear that the girl, with the courage that the drink gave her, took advantage of the moment. She had wanted to do this for years, and the opportunity never came, but now? Last year, she was going to do what she wanted without fear.

Y/n started to dance to the music, as sensual as the beat of each note. She knew they had several pairs of eyes on her, but only one interested her. Then the girl turned to where Fred was and she couldn't be more pleased to see that he was looking at her like a dog is looking at a piece of meat, with pure desire. She then danced looking directly at him.

Fred couldn't hold on any longer, he dodged the crowd and came very close to Y/n, grabbed her waist tightly and without thinking, he kissed the girl. It was as if everyone in the room had disappeared. They were just there, Y/n and Fred. The girl returned the kiss at the same time her lips met, placing her hands on the boy's neck.

The two separated only because they were forced to breathe. Keeping foreheads glued together. Smiling broadly. And you can hear George and Lee in the background shouting "Finally!" "Just friends, my ass!" And things like that. But Fred and Y/n couldn't care less.

"So.. hm, I think we're not just friends after all, huh?" Fred says laughing still being very close to you.

"I don't think we ever were just friends"

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #imagine #harry potter imagine #weasley twins #fanfiction #Gryffindor #slytherin #x reader #george weasley #george weasley imagine #harry potter fanfiction #halloween #harry potter #a very harry potter halloween

[parkersbliss]

Stubborn | Minho

Pairing: Minho x Female Reader

Warnings: blood, near death, cursing??

WC; 2.5K

synopsis: yes, it does take a near death experience to finally admit your feelings

a/n: probably my last imagine before 2021 SO HAPPY NEW YEAR BYE 2020

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

“I’m just saying,” Newt said, arms crossed. “It would save everyone a lot of pain and headaches if one of you just said it.”

“I’m not a liar,” You replied.

“You’re lying to yourself right now,” Newt smirked, watching as your gaze hardened and you smacked his arm.

Thomas jogs up to the two of you, taking one glance at Newt rubbing his arm and you pursing your lips and looking the other way.

“Newt’s right.”

You spin around, mouth open, “How did you?—”

Thomas shrugs, “Call it a third sense, but whatever he said about Minho, you should listen.”

You scoff at the two boys, thoughts running around in your head.

You were in love with your best friend, it was plain as day.

But saying that to his face? That was something that would never happen. Minho was your best friend, he was your other half and to tell him how you feel and ruin that… well that’s just selfish of you. He was also your running partner, you spent almost the entire day together and the last thing you need is for him to leave you alone in the maze after some stupid confession.

Point is, there was too much at stake. It was an unnecessary risk that you didn’t want to take.

“I bet she’s thinking about his muscles,” Thomas snickers, playfully nudging Newt’s shoulder.

Newt giggles, “When is she not? Who knows what goes on when they’re inside the maze.”

You roll your eyes, smacking both of them, “Both of you, slim it.”

“Can’t handle the truth, (Y/N)?” Thomas teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’ll make sure to leave you alone in the maze next time.”

Thomas’s eyes widen, “Okay, hey we were joking! Minho’s ugly anyway.”

“The hell?” Another voice breaks in. “I’m hotter than both of you combined.”

Heat flares in your cheeks as you glance at your running partners who stumbled onto your early morning conversation.

Newt pats Minho’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile, “yes, yes of course.”

Minho swats his hand away, glaring at him, “Don’t say it like that.”

“Say it like what?” Newt said innocently before disappearing to the gardens.

Thomas holds his hands up in defense, “All jokes,” he coughs, meeting your eyes. “I’ll uh, I’ll see you guys later.”

Thomas turns to leave but not before sending a wink your way. You glare at him, mouthing the words ‘slim it' while drawing a finger across your throat.

A small hand on your shoulder brings you out of your thoughts.

Minho looks at you with his brown eyes, and you’re not sure how to act.

You can’t process anything, and if he’s speaking to you, you don’t hear it. All you can focus on is him, and everything about him. He’s clouding your senses, making it hard to see but you don’t mind.

“Did you hear me?” Minho asked, now placing both hands on his hips.

You blink, nodding, “Yes, loud and clear.”

“Okay,” Minho drawls, “what did I say?”

Damn him, you think.

“Gally sucks toes?”

“Cute, but no, Although I wouldn’t be surprised if that was true,” Minho muses. “I said Fry is finishing up our lunches and then we’re good to go.”

You let out a loud sigh, “Do we have to?” You ask Minho, pouting.

He rolls his eyes, bopping your nose, “you signed up for this.”

“Yeah right,” you snort, “more like you forced me to be here.”

“Forced and extensively encouraged are two different things.”

You cross your arms and raised your eyebrows at the brown-eyed boy, “You know what, I’m pretty sure this is just an excuse to hang out with me.”

“Oh you wish, eight hours in the Maze with you and your whining is enough.”

“If I’m that annoying why not go with Thomas sometime?” You challenge.

Minho’s silent, “He's somehow worse than you.”

You pat Minho on the chest as you walk by to pick up your lunches, “Okay, lover boy.”

“It’s true!” He calls out after you, trying to defend himself.

Was he that obvious? He’s glad your back is turned to him and you can’t see how red his cheeks have gotten.

He shakes his head, breathing in deeply. This wasn’t part of the plan, not that he had a plan.

He planned to run until he found a way out of here, but even that plan didn’t work. At some point, he had given up. He had come to terms with the fact that there was no escape. He’s known that for years. It ate him from the inside out, knowing that everyone counted on him to find a way out and he already knew the answer.

But he couldn’t let the other Glader’s feel like he did, he couldn’t watch them lose hope. He’d spend every day running if it meant they didn’t end up like him, empty and cold.

But then you came along.

And when you arrived, Minho had something worth fighting for. A little blossom of hope in his heart that with you here, he had to find a way out.

And then you became a runner, and Minho took his chance.

He was amazed that you didn’t give up, even when he told you that he’d run the whole thing. You had this spark in your eye, you looked him in the eye and you told him,

“There’s always a way out, we’re just not looking in the right place or the right thing.”

Funny enough, you hadn’t made any progress since then.

Unless you count Minho catching feelings for you, but he wouldn’t consider that progress.

“Hey! Think fast,” You said, tossing Minho his sandwich.

Of course, Minho being in deep thought about you slows his actions and he barely catches his lunch, almost tripping in the process.

You’re stood across from him, smirk adorning your face, “Nice catch.”

“Thanks,” he said, “I’d like to see you do better.”

“I probably could,” You shrug.

Minho scoffs, mumbling something under his breath as you drag him toward the maze. Thomas waves from his spot, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you flip him off.

The door slowly opens and once there’s enough space, the two of you take off.

…

You and Minho were a bit more cautious now that Ben had been stung in broad daylight, it was something no one had ever seen in the Glade.

It never really crossed your mind that something like that could happen, but now that it did, everyone was a bit more on edge.

It was like you could sense the trouble looming over you, that the worse was yet to come, but no one said anything.

No one wanted to say anything.

You slow your pace, leaning against a wall to take a sip from your water. You make sure to not let Minho too far out of your sight, the last time it happened didn’t end very well.

You debate calling out to him, but you let him go, needing to save your breath. You don’t doubt he’ll notice soon enough. You close your eyes, resting for a bit… just a little while longer.

“(Y/N)!”

You sigh, pushing yourself off the wall as you jog to catch up with Minho.

“Present!” You announce, waving your hands.

He shakes his head, grabbing your hand, “you’re sticking with me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” You wink, watching as Minho turns away from you, hiding his flushed face.

His hand fits in your like it’s meant to be, but you don’t believe in stuff like that.

You do, however, believe in how you don’t want to let it go. It made you feel safer, it’s a stupid thought but it does.

You trust that when you’re holding onto him, nothing bad will happen, and if it did, he’s there.

Your run is slowed to more of a walk as the sun reaches high noon, beating down on both of you, sweating accumulating on your neck.

You can feel the strain of your run pulling on your muscles, but you’d grown accustomed to the feeling.

Minho turns back to look at you, he’s about to open his mouth but he’s quick to snap it shut.

“Did you hear that?" He asks.

“Hear wh-”

You fall silent when you hear the sounds of clanking followed by low growls.

Minho’s eyes widen as he looks at you, and you look back at him mirroring the same expression.

“We need to get back to the Glade,” Minho said slowly. His eyebrows are furrowed as he listens for the Griever in order to choose the best path of escape. Your instincts tell you the best plan of escape is the east door, but then the maze falls silent.

The quiet is somehow deafening, save for your heart pounding madly in your chest. At any moment, it could strike, it could walk around any corner and kill you both.

You’d never know until it was too late.

Minho squeezes your hand tightly, his back towards your own as you watch all the possible places the griever could come from.

And the lucky winner was where you happened to be looking. The griever comes racing around the corner, it’s screeching filling the air mixing with your own.

“Holy shit!” You scream, feeling Minho tug on your hand and pull you to what was hopefully an exit.

You push yourself to go faster, the last thing you wanted was to be eaten by a griever of all things. You try not to think about how it’s closing in on you, or how you might die here. Instead, you try and focus on your breathing and the way Minho is gripping on tightly to your hand. You will yourself to try and think of anything else but the creature chasing you. This is what you were training for, running.

Running even when you feel out of breath, running even when your legs are begging you to stop, running because it’s the only thing that’ll save you.

It never ends, and it never stops.

Minho takes a sharp left and you follow, looking behind you for the briefest second only to see the griever reaching out for you.

It happens in a flash, you can feel it’s claw pierce your skin, tearing at it as you run. You grit your teeth, seething in pain as you collapse.

Minho turns around to find you, eyes widening as he sees the griever looming above you.

“Go!” You shout, propping yourself against a wall.

Minho shakes his head, standing his ground as he looks from the griever to you.

“Trust me, Minho! Go!”

Minho’s hesitant, he couldn’t leave you, what if you bled out and died on him? What kind of person would he be then? What would he do when he loses the one thing he has left to fight for?

“Please,” You beg, eyes teary.

Minho feels his heart shatter in his chest as he realizes you’re right, he should go.

But not without taking the griever with him.

Minho finds a stray rock on the ground, feeling it in his hand before he chucks it at the creature.

It makes a sound, one then he could never forget as it turns away from you and lunges for him.

Minho looks to you, giving you a curt nod before making a run for it, the griever following him.

You lean your head back against the wall, ignoring the pain in your leg as you let the tears silently flow down your face as you watch him disappear.

Of course, he had to play the hero. You should be grateful, really, but you can’t. How can you be grateful when he was risking his life for one that was already gone?

You’d accepted your fate, you knew you were going to die here and you could face that.

But Minho had to screw it all up and risk himself too, it wasn’t fair. You didn’t know if he would come back to you, or if he did, If you’d still be alive.

Would one of you die before you get to say the words you’ve so desperately wanted to? Was the world this cruel?

Did it take one of you dying for you to finally accept what you already knew? You couldn’t imagine dying before you tell him, but leaving him with that… was that not crueler than any fate he could succumb to?

You use your hand that’s not grabbing your bleeding leg to wipe away your tears. If Minho didn’t come back, if someone didn’t come back, you’d sure be griever food.

Maybe you’d die before having to be ripped apart limb by limb.

The pain in your leg because nothing more than a dull ache as you breathe out slowly. You let your eyes fall shut, hoping to catch up on some much-needed rest while you pray Minho’s returns.

But when he does, it’s a sight he knows he’ll never forget.

His heart sinks in his chest when he sees you, laying in a pool of blood, chest barely rising and falling.

He kneels before you, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face and hold back his sobs.

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?”

When there’s no reply he begins panicking, tying to (as gently as possible) coax you awake. He grabs your shoulders, shaking you as he begs you to wake up.

Eventually, your eyes flutter open and Minho feels like he can breathe again as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Oh thank god.”

“You came back?” You ask softly.

He nods, pulling back you, “I’ll always come back.”

You reach out for his hands, which he gives you, squeezing them tightly.

“I love you,” You said, eyes fluttering shut again as you’re stuck with a wave of pain.

“Lying doesn’t suit you, babe,” Minho replies easily, dismissing your three words. This wasn’t the time to think about it, right now, he needed to get you back. “You’re a bit out of it from the amount of blood you lost, can you walk?” He asked, standing up.

You pull him back down, “Minho, I love you.”

He shakes his head, “we need to get you back to the medhut.”

“Minho,” You plead, you couldn’t die without him knowing.

He ignores you and instead, helps you to your feet leaning you against him and slowly being the journey back to the Glade.

You never asked what happened to the griever.

…

You groan, rolling onto your side as you wipe the sleep from your eyes. You blink when you realize that you were in a wooden hut that was most certainly not the maze, and then you look down at the hand interlocked with yours.

A hand that belonged to none other than your running partner.

When you meet his eyes, he’s already staring at you.

“Hi,” You said.

“Hey,” he breathes out, still taking in two much better you look. He’s still trying to delete the image of you in the maze out of his mind, but it might be something he was to live with.

“how do you feel?”

“Like shit,” you answer, “But it’s okay.”

“How are you?”

“Better.”

A silence hangs in the room, it’s heavy and you know what has to be said to clear it.

“I meant what I said.”

“What?”

You roll your eyes, tugging his hand with yours to your chest. “What I said in the maze, I meant it.”

“You said a lot of things in the maze.”

You stare up at the medhut ceiling, breathing out deeply. “I love you, Minho.”

There’s silence, and then, “Look me in the eye and say it.”

You turn to look at him, meeting his eyes with great ease and seeing the tears pool behind him.

“I love you, Minho. I always have.”

He diverts his gaze away from you, eyes falling to the floor before finally meeting yours again, a smile adorning his face.

“I love you too.”

— END —

🏷 Minho Taglist: @emeliii1 @bwndito @remusflirts

#minho the maze runner #tmr minho x reader #minho tmr #minho x reader #minho x y/n #minho x you #tmr minho #minho imagines #minho #the maze runner x you #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner headcanon #the maze runner imagine #the maze runner #the scorch trials

[im-lad-ris]

I Won’t Say I’m in Love : Thranduil X Female! Reader

Prompts: “Hi can I request a Thranduil x elf! reader imagine where he likes her but is too prideful to admit it so the reader & Legolas put on a show to make him jealous?” & “Can you write a Thranduil x fem elf! reader imagine, based on the song I won’t say (i’m in love) from the movie Hercules please??”

Submitted by: @elia-the-bibliophile

Words: 2.5K

A/N: Sorry I’ve been so behind on my writings, so much has been going on and its really been stifling my writing process. But I hope you guys enjoy this, I lost the original draft and completely rewrote it from scratch. Also, this has now become one of my longest ficlets! Also its not edited yet but I will go through soon and fix any errors!  Also will add to masterlist soon!

----------------

The first time the elf king laid his eyes on you, you had been a force to be reckoned with. Your hands were gripping dual swords, and you had made your way across the battlefield with grace, slicing down any orc that had found itself unlucky enough to be in your path.

He had taken a sharp breath and tried to remember that he was standing in a battlefield, but watching you move he felt a tug at his heartstrings. He could not even bare to tear his eyes away from you as he swung his own blade at an orc that had gotten to close for comfort. The foul things head had come off and landed at his feet, and yet he watched as you jumped up and planted your feet into another elf’s back, sending him flying out of the way of an arrow that surely would have ended his life. You had used the momentum to flip around and land back on your feet just in time to deflect another arrow with one blade, while using the other one to slash at the orc nearest you.

Thranduil’s face remained impassive, after all he was a king and he had some image to uphold, but he was finally able to draw his eyes away from you. He knew he had seen your face in his kingdom before, but now you were on his radar. He moved through the battle with new vigor, intent on being able to look upon your face once every filthy orc on the field had had its life snuffed out.

----

“Legolas, you really should not make bets that you know you cannot win” you stated, as another guard tossed a bag of coin into your waiting hand. You smiled as you waggled the coin bag in front of your friend’s face, and all he could manage in response was an incoherent mumble.

You had just drunk Legolas under the table, which was usually how these sorts of bets with him panned out. You couldn’t help but to laugh at him before you lifted him up, supporting him with your shoulder and following the familiar route to his room. As you passed into the royal suite of rooms, you noticed Legolas had fallen asleep while slung across your shoulder. You sighed before you opened the door to his room and threw him, rather ungracefully, onto his bed.  You shook your head, a smile still gracing your lips, before dusting your hands off on your tunic and heading out the door.

As you closed the door and turned around you were met with the rather imposing figure of the king.

“There must be good reason for you to be sneaking out of my sons room at this time of night” Thranduil said, his gaze sharp as he looked down at you, but you could see the twinkle in his eyes. You were unsure what such a twinkle meant in comparison to the glare he sent down at you. You had always been unsure about the way he saw you.

“Aran nín (my king)” You started, as you dipped your head into a bow, “He decided that he could beat me in a drinking contest. I’m simply doing the right thing by escorting him to his bed when he could not even manage to hold his own weight up.” You replied as you tried to hide your smile from remembering your friend’s antics.

His face remained impassive, although you were sure you saw his lip twitch.

“Well to make up for my sons... disagreeable behavior, it would be my pleasure to escort you back to your room, híril nîn (my lady)” he said as he fell into place next to you, his hand resting on the small of your back as you both trekked to your room. You tried your best to stay calm, but you felt as if your heart was in your throat and you were sure Thranduil could hear it. His hand never moved from your back, and when you reached your door, he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your palm before bidding you goodnight. You almost squealed with delight but instead you smiled and kept composure, waiting to lose it as you jumped into bed for the night.

You absolutely adored Thranduil. He was by far the handsomest elf you had ever laid your eyes upon, something you had thought even when you were a small elleth who ran around the kingdom. His eyes were an ocean, and you desired nothing more to swim in them everyday for the rest of your life. The way his hand had been on your back, the way his lips had lingered on your palm, all gave you hope that maybe he felt the same, but reality came crashing down every time you met his gaze. He did not smile, and his face was always hardened with a glare. Somedays you wondered if he felt anything at all, while on others you wished that we would gaze upon you as if you were is beloved, his treasure.

 ----

If there's a prize for rotten judgement,

I guess I've already won that

No woman is worth the aggravation,

That's ancient history, been there, done that!

As Thranduil left from your rooms, he had clenched his hand to his side. He should have said something, but what good would that have done. His pride always got the better of him and caused him to hold his tongue. He was the king! How could he bring himself to admit that he was feeling something for you?

The past had not been kind to him in regards to love. He spoke nothing of Elerrian anymore, and although he cared much for her, she had passed long ago, leaving him alone in a cold world. Looking at you, he felt the tug on his emotions he once had with her. To him, it was almost as if a string of fate had been wrapped around both your pinkies, and it was all he could do to ignore the pulling sensation he felt.

He dare not fall into the pits of love once more, as much as he wished he could. He recalls the day he saw you on the battlefield and had to keep himself in check. He cannot... no, he would not allow himself to admit that he felt something for you. He had learned throughout his long life that love was nothing but heartache and pain, and he refused to lose another who was dear to him.

 ----

She's the Earth and heaven to you,

Try to keep it hidden

Honey, we can see right through you

Boy, ya can't conceal it

We know how ya feel and

Who you're thinking of!

He watched as you sat and laughed with his son, his nails digging into the arm of his seat at the head of the table.

After Thranduil’s first encounter with you, he could not help but make it so you were always near him. He found out your name from Legolas, who apparently was your friend and confidant, which is the most likely reason he knew he had seen you before. After this, he assigned you as one of the main commanders of Mirkwood’s forces due to your battle prowess, however, this had allowed you to not only join his council, but also the privilege of being the only elleth on it.

However, this had also led to Legolas being able to spend more time with you. Thranduil refused to admit that he was jealous. He was the ruler of the kingdom, one such as he did not feel such things. But the more he saw you laugh with his son, the more he had to bite down on his tongue to keep from lashing out in an unsavory manner in front of you.

However, he could not stop his glare towards his son as he watched you fling your head back in laughter, your arm on Legolas’s shoulder as you tried to catch your breath. Legolas turned to look him in the eyes, clearly uncertain as to the nature of the glare he was receiving, although his face did light up as he seemed to put the pieces together.

Thranduil gritted his teeth together, his fingernails leaving crescent indents on his palms as he balled his fists, he was feeling as though he would be ground into dust as he watched Legolas lean over and whisper in your ear as you blushed and nodded. He felt as if he was a mortar, with the pestle grinding his very being into dust. Yet, he was still stone, still unwavering and would not yet yield. He refused to speak with you on the matter of his affections, it was unbecoming of a ruler. He would not stand here and declare his feelings for you, and he most likely never would.

He pushed his emotions down and loosened his fists as his knuckles had turn white, he willed his face to once again be completely impassive, even as he felt as if wanted to crush something with his hands as you and Legolas left together.

 ----

Legolas leaned towards you, his hand on your shoulder and a knowing smile on his lips. He turned and met his fathers fiery gaze once more before he spoke.

“Hey, Y/N, remember that crush you have on my ada (father)?” he asked you. Your eyes went wide, and you sputtered before trying to cover the growing blush on your face with your hands.

“Leg! Do you really need to bring that up here?” you whispered back at him through your hands.

“Of course! Any chance to embarrass you Mellon nîn (my friend)!” he laughed for a second, before his face turned deathly serious. “But back to the point, I think I have a plan of sorts, and I very much believe you’d wish you hear it”

 ----

No chance, no way

I won't say it, no, no

You swoon, you sigh

Why deny it, uh-oh

It's too cliche

I won't say I'm in love

The next evening, the pieces of Legolas’s plan had slid together almost seamlessly.

He sat with you at the front of the corridor, so that any who passed could plainly see what was happening between the two of you. This worked in his favor, especially since his ada usually passed the hall around this time in order to reach the royal suites. Plus, any servants who passed were certain to inform him about the goings on they had witnessed, which would most likely prompt him to rush to you both.

Legolas’s arm was slung over your shoulder and your legs were pulled into his lap, He gently rubbed small circles into your thigh with his fingernails.

Soon, he heard the familiar footsteps of his ada, and began to set the plan into motion.

His hand left your knee and he placed his finger under your chin, using it to keep your face level with his. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dark gray of his ada’s robe as he began to turn into the corridor. Legolas winked at you and pulled you closer, his lips dancing over the shell of your ear. He couldn’t help but whisper softly to you, “I wish I could see the look on his face right now Y/N”, causing you to involuntarily shudder.

After turning the corner, Thranduil was practically seeing red, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His son, his only child, amorously flirting in his hallways, his kingdom. However., when he saw it was you in Legolas’s arms, he forgot how to breathe, and he couldn’t seem to think clearly. His brain had turned to acid in his skull. His face hardened as he stormed over to you both, grabbing you by the wrist harshly and yanking you away from Legolas and down the hall. After a few twists and turns, he had reached the end of a deserted hallway and pushed you up against the wall.

Before you could even gasp at the contact your body had made with the wall behind you, Thranduil’s lips were on yours. You stood still, his hand still grasping your wrist tight. He pulled away from you, and the look on his face seemed dejected, it was unbecoming of his beautiful features to be contorted into such a look of melancholia.

He released the pressure on your wrist and dropped it before turning away and trying to make off down the corridor.

You couldn’t stop yourself by grabbing him by the back of his robe and pushing him against the wall, just as he had done to you. “Where do you think you’re going...” you surged forward, as your lips brushed over his, “Thranduil..”

His eyes widened before you crashed your lips into his, full of fiery passion and spirit, the kind he had seen from you so often. His lips were warm, and he tasted of mint, this moment reminding you of days spent in the forest, nights spent under the stars. He sucked at your bottom lip as your hand wove its way into his hair. You couldn’t help yourself as you grazed your teeth over his lower lip, your hands roaming up to run through his hair and caress his face and neck, everything soft as silk. He let out a low groan before he grabbed you once again and switched positions, your back once again on the wall. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and breathing heavily.

“Fuck...” he muttered under his breath, before burying his head in your shoulder.

“Thranduil... Gi melin (I love you)” you whispered from swollen lips “Meleth nîn…(my love)” one of your hands rubbed circles into his low back, the other tucked strands of hair behind his ear.

“Do not forget Y/N,” he started, the shakiness in his voice surprising you “I would pluck every star from the sky and lay them at your feet. I offer you my sword, I offer you my life.” He raised his head from your shoulder before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You are my ithildim (star-light)” he whispered as his thumb ran across your cheek. He offered you a small smile, the first genuine one you had ever seen from him, before he pulled his hand away and walked off down the corridor.

Your fingers ran over your lips, which still tingled, and when you licked at them you could still taste the mint on them. Your skin felt seared where his hands had run across it. As you watched him leave, you could not help but to let out a small laugh. His pride had forbidden him from directly saying he loved you the way you did him, but his actions, his words, they all proved to you the truth. Although he could not say his feelings, he had shown you them plainly enough.

You smacked your hands against your cheeks and shook your head before you made after him, you refused to let your little rendezvous be over so soon, especially after you and Legolas had went through all that effort to make it happen.

 ----------------

Tag List: @writing-fortolkein @saltysalt01​ @your-pixels-are-showing​ @emastrangee 

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#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #Thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #LOTR #legolas greenleaf #King Thranduil #imagine #lotr imagine #songfic #i wont say im in love

[robininthelabyrinth]

(Uh. You're bio says prompts are open but your ask button says prompts are closed? I'll send a prompt anyways, feel free to ignore me.) The Burial Mounds are not made for people. It's not willing to change this. So as people eat it's food, drink it's water, breathe it's air... /they/ change. They're still human, technically, probably, but they're... different

It affected the strongest first, Wen Qing found.

Strong was, of course, a relative definition – no one at the Burial Mounds was ‘stronger’ than Wei Wuxian, of course, but all his power was borrowed, not his own, not after what he’d done to his golden core. So rather than being considered the strongest, he was considered among the weakest, right up there with A-Yuan: the rest of them, despite being civilians, had at minimum been civilians in a cultivation sect, meaning that they either had golden cores or had made some progress in developing their qi.

Of them all, Wen Qing and Wen Ning had always been the best; it had been that which had made them Wen Ruohan’s favorites.

So, to no surprise, it affected them first.

It wasn’t that they didn’t know that the Burial Mounds was full of resentment: a battlefield so bitter that it had poisoned the earth and water and air, left without purification for years upon years, and eventually the resentment had solidified, turned into a rotten lump of it.

It was that they hadn’t realized that it had started resenting anyone who tried to change it, and that it instead sought to change them.

It was a little like Stygian Tiger Seal, Wen Qing reflected in those years where she had too much time to reflect. That had been a regular sword, once – some cultivator’s treasure, no doubt, right up until they stabbed it into the corrupted Xuanwu’s side as they did, leaving their mark on the beast even as it ended their life – but years and years of being near resentment had made it resentful itself.

Had given it power, but also – malice.

The Burial Mounds had malice to spare, and it did not like them when they were just – human.

When they were still cultivators, trying their best to purify what little evil they could before they planted their crops.

So it changed them.

Wen Qing was the strongest cultivator left alive from their Wen sect, but Wen Ning – Wen Ning was something else, of course. Literally, thanks to Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation.

Perhaps the Burial Mounds saw what he was – a fierce corpse, living and conscious and shot through with resentful energy, not needing to eat or drink or sleep, no ability to purify anything – and thought that it would be much happier if the rest of them were like that too.

Wen Qing was the strongest, and so it went for her first.

At first she thought it was her own strength showing through. She’d always refrained from meals when possible to allow her family to eat more, especially A-Yuan, because the amount they were able to buy or grow was simply not enough for all of them. But she’d closely monitored her inedia to ensure that she was not growing weak – that was equally unacceptable, someone had to protect them – and eventually she noticed that her ability to refrain from regular food had grown rather impressive, to the point that she barely ate a bowl of rice once every fortnight.

Meditating in a small cave seemed almost like it was enough.

It wasn’t until she was there, drawing in what she thought was natural qi, and something living came in – a bird of some sort, she though – that she began to realize that something was wrong.

Did realize.

It was hard not to, not with the way she had torn at the bird with her teeth and swallowed the heat of its blood down her throat, leaving it rich in meat but without any blood.

After that Wen Qing had quietly panicked – though of course she’d brought the bird back for the rest of her family to cook and eat the normal way – and she’d vowed that she would eat only rice and radishes, just the way the rest of them did, and not resort to her cultivation any longer.

It was too late, though. The rice tasted spoiled in her mouth, even though everyone else ate it easily; the radish made her gag even though it was fresh. She could not eat them.

Only blood was sufficient.

Wen Qing wasn’t sure what to do about it – she couldn’t just go and hunt all the time, there weren’t enough living things on the Burial Mounds to make that practical, there was a reason they’d tried growing food instead – but around that time Wei Wuxian got the idea of making a blood pool for his experiments.

She didn’t know where he got the blood or how he kept it fresh.

She didn’t ask.

In the beginning it was only a spoonful here and there, enough to keep her energized and healthy while she tried to force herself to live on human food again, but after a while she found that a single cup of blood each week was enough to sustain her entirely, meaning that her aunts and uncles and poor little A-Yuan could eat a little more.

(Wei Wuxian ate too much, just as much as he might if he were a normal human who had never practiced inedia or couldn’t because his core was gone, but he was their benefactor. Of course they had to feed him before all others, except maybe the growing A-Yuan.)

After a while, Wen Qing noticed some of the others – Fourth Uncle was first, but others weren’t far behind – also leaving food on their plates, unable to eat, only they were wasting away for lack of it. She should have let it happen, maybe, but they’d worked so hard to survive, gotten through so much together, and so she decided to slip them a little blood in their tea, just to see if it would help.

It did. It was like night and day, the way their faces filled with life again – animated and cheerful, the way she remembered them best.

So she kept doing it.

(She’d once had medical ethics that forbade experimenting on those who did not know or consent, she recalled vaguely. She’d thrown those ethics into Wen Ruohan’s face, refusing to do his bidding even if he killed her, and he’d rolled his eyes and given in, assigning her only to hospital work for his soldiers and a management position in a supervisory office – he’d been nasty and cruel, but also practical, at least when it came to members of his family; he preferred to boast of having an excellent doctor as part of his clan over yet another corpse in his Fire Palace, and she’d made it clear that was the choice.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t accepted her refusal, though, and once you decided there was something worth breaching your ethics one time, it made it so much easier to make the same decision again – and again – and again…)

And then, before she knew it, the end came.

Wen Ning struck down Jin Zixuan on Wei Wuxian’s sloppy, badly-designed orders – however unintentional it had been on either of their parts – and the Jin sect demanded blood, whether Wei Wuxian’s or theirs. And Wei Wuxian was their benefactor, and that meant it had to be them.

Wen Qing told the Fourth Uncle about what she’d been doing with the blood before she left, not wanting them to starve because she wasn’t there any longer, and then she went to Jinlin Tower to die, seething with resentment about the whole thing. And they took her brother away, and they killed her and scattered her ashes in the Burial Mounds, probably as a final fuck you to her.

They also killed the rest of her family.

She knows they did, because whatever they did to kill her, it didn’t quite – stick.

It was about a year before she fully reformed herself out of the ashes, piecing each ash together back into a physical body like they were all just puzzle-pieces, and crawled out of the ground. Her family was waiting for her: their bodies had been thrown into the blood pool, and the blood of the pool had interacted with the blood already in their bodies – the blood she’d fed them – and they hadn’t stayed dead, either.

“We’re going to need to be careful,” she warned them, settling into the role of leader as easily as always. “We’re living off resentment, now – I’m not quite sure if we’re mo or gui, depends on when we count it as having happened, but either way, we’re now the things that cultivators night-hunt. We can’t allow ourselves to become known, or we’ll be targets.”

Nods all around.

She looked around, reviewing the crowd. “…where’s A-Yuan?”

“I think he’s still alive,” Granny said. “I hid him away before the battle, and the place was empty when I checked it again. No corpse.”

“Good,” Wen Qing said. She hoped he stayed that way, alive, the way they weren’t. “I don’t know what happened with Wen Ning – they didn’t kill him along with me. Maybe we can try to find him, later.”

Maybe they could find A-Yuan, too.

Maybe they could finally make themselves the home they’d been trying to build for so long.

#mdzs #wen qing #wen sect #my fic #my fics #vampires #because why not #that-one-fangirl-in-the-corner

[just-jordie-things]

#17 w/ sokka!! if you would like from your prompt list?

yes! my first atla prompt! lets goooo! got a lil carried away for a blurb tho

prompt 17: having to kiss to hide from the bad guys

___

How you and Sokka got separated from the others, you couldn’t quite remember.  It had all happened so fast, and you hadn’t been paying proper attention to what was going on.

One minute, you were browsing through a market in a more upper ring of Ba Sing Se, eagerly picking through a pail of strawberries to see if they were worth four whole silver pieces, and the next, Sokka was grabbing you by the arm and telling you to run.

It wasn’t until you’d run as far as your legs could carry you that Sokka had pulled the two of you into an alley that you could even ask.

“What... just happened..?” You asked, breathless, doubled over and trying not to heave as you panted.

Yes, you were very well trained in the arts of hand to hand combat, who learned from yours truly (Sokka, of course) but that didn’t mean you could break into a sprint for ten minutes out of nowhere!

“Fire Nation soldiers,” Sokka huffed, not sounding nearly as out of breath as he should have.  “I think they recognized Aang, they definitely spotted us”

“Well did they follow us?” You asked, suddenly bolting upright and peeking around the corner.  “There they are!”

Your eyes narrowed on the group of Fire Nation soldiers who were trying to casually sweep through the crowds of the busy market.  They stuck out like a sore thumb, but even in their poor attempts of blending in, the Earth Kingdom citizens didn’t seem to notice.

“We can take ‘em-”

“Woah there, tiger,” Sokka grabbed you by the arms and pulled you back into the hidden safety of the alley before you could do something reckless.  “Just let ‘em go, they won’t recognize us”

Sokka did this often, talked you down from jumping head first into a fight you probably could have won.

You pulled a face, but he wasn’t looking anyways.  His eyes were trained on the soldiers, tracking their every movement.

“If they won’t recognize us, then let’s just get going, we should find the others” You said matter-of factly, and again, made a move to leave the alley.

“We don’t know that!” Sokka hissed, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you back towards him again.

If you weren’t so annoyed that he was being unreasonable, you might have flustered from how close he’d brought you, or how firm his grip on your arm was.  And he wasn’t about to relent either, since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t make a run for it.

“We don’t know that they won’t notice” You argued back, keeping your voice low as not to draw any attention to the two of you.

Being alone in an empty and dark alleyway was suspicious enough, you didn’t need anyone seeing the two of you fighting over here.

“Spirits, for once can you please just do things the safe way?” Sokka asked, sending a short glare your way.

He paused for a moment, and his features fell as his eyes looked you up and down, like he was suddenly aware of just how close the pair of you were.  You were backed into a wall, and he was all but caging you in.  You quirked a brow back at him, a little amused from the way he’d freezed up, and he cleared his throat before stepping back.

“No, do go on,” You prompted, your brows furrowing as you stood up straighter.

Sokka put his focus on the Fire Nation soldiers scouring through the crowd, and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Tell me about how reckless and unsafe I am”

“Like I have to do that,” He scoffed.  “You’re well aware of the way you act”

“Way I act?” You repeated in mock offense.

“Yeah,” Sokka says, scoffing again, and looking back down at you.  “The whole cutthroat thing”

“Sokka, what in the world are you talking about?” You asked, your eyes narrowing as you tried not to smile at him.

But he was making eye contact and his eyes were so goddamn blue-

“Fifteen minutes ago we were strawberry shopping, what’s cutthroat about that?”

“Well- you’re- very particular about your strawberries”

You rolled your eyes at him, knowing his argument had failed.

But you kept to yourself, and turned to check on the soldiers.

They were definitely gaining on you, they were just a few feet away from the alley, and it was only a matter of time before you were caught.  Even if they didn’t recognize you and Sokka, you were still two suspicious looking teenagers hiding in an alley.

“They’re getting closer, we should hide,” You said, tugging on Sokka’s arm, trying to get him to follow you further down the alley.

His head swiveled between you and the guards, unsure.

“Maybe there’s a way out down this way,” You added, tugging a little harder.

You wanted him to give in to reason, but even if he didn’t follow you, you wouldn’t be able to leave him here.  Feelings aside, you could never abandon him.

“Sokka-”

“Fine, let’s go” He said.

You resisted the urge to sigh in relief as you both made a break for the end of the alley.  It was dark, not lit at all, and the canopies from the surrounding buildings blocked most of the sunlight from getting in.

Sokka remained close behind, one hand on his boomerang the whole time he followed you, just in case he could hear footsteps behind him.

But it was you who perked up to the sounds of heavy footsteps, and you froze in place, your hand seizing Sokka’s arms and also making him stop in his tracks.  He looked at you wildly, confused at first, but you put your finger to your lips and nodded in the direction of the way you’d just come from.

Sure enough, he could hear the group of men coming your way, in slow calculated steps.

“They’re trying to sneak up on us” You whispered, but you were mouthing the words more than speaking them.

“Follow me” Sokka mumbles back, and he takes your hand before swiftly continuing down the path.

Unfortunately, it leads you nowhere.

Well, technically, it leads you to a dead end.

“A wall!” Sokka hisses, gesturing to it as though you couldn’t see.  “We’re stuck here!”

You frown back at him, and then let go of his hand to reach up in an attempt to scale the wall.

Sokka rolls his eyes before smacking your hands.

“Hey!” You hiss, annoyed, but still trying to keep quiet.

“You’re not gonna be able to climb that, dumbass” He seethed back.

You huffed, defeated, and your worried eyes turned in the direction of the guards who were certainly gaining on you.  You couldn’t see them yet, but it was only a matter of time before they wised up and used their firebending to light their path and catch you.

“What now?” You mumbled, glancing around you in hopes you could find some place to hide, but there was nothing but brick around you.

What a perfect time to be a non-bender.

You couldn’t tell whether or not Sokka was scheming.  He had a look on his face, the one he got when he was concentrating really hard on something, but he wasn’t saying anything.

You figured you’d just have to fight your way out of this one and hope you’d emerge unscathed.

But then Sokka turned to you, his eyes lit up but his expression nervous.  Your own eyes widened, not exactly excited for whatever crazy idea he’d just thought of.

When his hands reach up to cradle your face- his touch gentle but still present- he was certain your own eyes couldn’t possibly get any wider.

The logical part of you wanted to smack him and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing.

But the rest of you was turning into putty in his hands.  Literally, as soon as he’d touched you it was like you’d began to melt-

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his eyes flickering between yours.

You nodded, without hesitation.

“With my life”

It all happened at once- or so you thought.

The Fire Nation soldiers’ steps grew heavier as they neared, surrounding you.

And Sokka’s lips crashed into yours.

You’d had a feeling it was coming, but it still made your breath hitch in your throat.  On instinct, your hands grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into you with so much strength that your body was slammed into the brick behind you.  Both of you grunted from the force, but it didn’t slow either of you down.

Sokka was a good kisser, you thought, forgetting completely that you were kind of risking your life over a dumb camouflauge such as frisky teenagers.  

You’d known you’d had feelings for Sokka for quite some time now, but you hadn’t realized just how bad you had it for him until now.  Hell- you needed him.

You revelled in how soft his lips were- and wondered briefly if he’d been using chapstick- and how perfectly they molded into yours.  How it felt like he poured passion into every lengthy and heavy kiss he gave you.  You maybe even whimpered a little, returning his kisses with fervor and delight.

Just as one of your hands latched around the nape of his neck, fingers itching to reach up into his hair, the Fire Nation soldiers made their presence known.

A bright flame erupted before you, which broke you and Sokka apart as you turned to look at the men as innocently as you could.

All at once, the looks of pride on their faces fell, and you wanted to laugh at the way they grimaced, and some shielded their eyes after seeing a young lady in the arms of her lover, both you and Sokka looking very disheveled and very out of breath.

“Spirits! What in the world are you two doing back here?” The man in front- maybe he was a General, you didn’t know, you didn’t care- asked.  He sounded irritated, which wasn’t how a man who was about to arrest you usually sounded.  You felt you were in the clear.

“Uh, what does it look like?” You asked coyly, smirking and raising a brow.

Sokka’s face turned bright red, and the sight made you melt again.  Even if he’d only been kissing you for show, you could still make him blush.

“Some privacy, gentlemen?” You asked, far too casually in Sokka’s opinion.

He turned to you, giving you a pointed glare that screamed ‘don’t over-do it’, but you ignored it.

“Miss, you and your boyfriend shouldn’t be back here-” The possible Fire Nation General started to argue, but you cut him off, boldly.

“Is it a crime, sir?” You asked curiously.

Your hand loosened it’s grip on Sokka’s shirt, before smoothing over his chest.  You didn’t know it, but your palm left a trail of goosebumps in it’s wake.

A few of the soldiers shuffled backwards in an awkward fashion, only sticking around as they waited for their superior’s command.

“Could we get that privacy now, please?” You asked, adding a sweet lilt to your voice, only furthering this innocent facade you were going through with.

“It’s not safe for you to be alone in the dark” The man in charge spoke in warning, but soon turned to walk away.

Sokka’s jaw dropped as he watched the soldiers leave, before turning back to look at you.

“I can’t believe that just worked”

“It was your plan dummy,” You giggled, and wrapped both of your arms around his neck.

He reciprocated immediately, his hands finding your waist and drawing you in closer, making you grin.

“Now shut up and kiss me again,” You said quickly.  “It’s only a matter of time before the others find us too”

The Water Tribe boy didn’t need to be told twice, and he wasted no time in meeting you halfway and kissing you passionately. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#atla #sokka #sokka x reader #sokka imagine #sokka scenario

[littleoddwriter]

im back at it again, sorry, but the more you write, the more i fall in love with every single one of your works.

can i request (from the prompt list) the 13th dialogue prompt with zsaszmask? it sounds very fun 👀

Interrupted | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

Hey! There's never a need to apologise for sending me requests, especially when they're awesome like that. :) Thank you so much! I really hope you like what I did with it and that it's not--- idk, too bad or anything. <3

summary; Zsasz couldn't finish freeing someone, and Roman won't let him go to make up for it.

notes; Mention of (Attempted) Murder; Mild Violence; Threats; Death Threats; Malice; Mentions of Sex; OCD. That should be everything important. [The dialogue prompt was: “I’m not scared of you.” - “Well, you should be.”]

Interrupted.

He was interrupted.

He couldn’t stand it.

It wasn’t how this worked.

He had just nicked the bird’s neck, when Roman’s other men had come to take him back to the club.

He had almost killed them for it, but he couldn’t. Sionis wouldn’t let him get away with it and then this interruption would be least of his problems.

He hated it, but he willingly went with the other guys.

Victor was itching under his skin.

He wasn’t able to finish it and now it haunted him, causing anxiety to crawl under his skin, making the itchiness worse, making it burn.

Not only that, but he became increasingly more irritated, when the fucking business meeting didn’t even go wrong, not giving him an opportunity to free a bird after all – Nothing.

Zsasz was full on glaring at the ground he stood on, when the meeting had reached its end. Thank fuck for that at least.

Roman and the other guy exchanged some last pleasantries and finally he was gone.

He was about to go as well, wanting to find a different bird to free – and who knew, maybe he could have sought out the one from before, too – but unfortunately he didn’t come very far, as Sionis grabbed his wrist in a tight grip, stopping him in his tracks.

If it had been anyone else, Victor would have stabbed them for the sheer audacity of even stopping him this way, but this was his boss and… bed partner – it was all still very new, he’s only been with Roman for two years, and started sleeping with him three months ago.

So, of course he couldn’t just go and kill him so suddenly; even though he often times desired it. But it would come with time. Roman would definitely find his end through Victor’s own hands – that was certain.

“What is it, boss?” Zsasz muttered darkly, fixing Roman with a glare.

This was something he usually wouldn’t do with him, either, but he was really on edge – feeling like a rubber band that’s been stretched without any sign of stopping, so close to snapping.

“Excuse me? I hope you realise that you’re not to talk to me this way, Mr. Zsasz,” Roman chided, looking just as irritated at him as he felt, “Don’t expect any extra treatments for the privilege of getting in bed with me, ‘kay?

“Sorry, boss,” Victor said through clenched teeth, “I really need to go out. Please.”

“Well, I don’t care. You’re staying. I’m not sending out my men again to come find you, because you fucking dickhead weren’t here for the meeting.”

“My bad, it won’t happen again. I promise. But, please, I need to finish something,” Victor rasped, getting more and more agitated.

He didn’t like this. Roman needed to let him go. He knew how important this was to him. He understood it, even if not fully, he understood it better than any of the drones lurking around. That was why he kept him around anyway. Now, he wasn’t so sure if he was truly worth it.

“You can’t go now, Zsasz! I have another meeting in-,” he looked at his watch, “twenty minutes. Which you knew, I’m sure. So, no, you’re not going, ‘kay?”

And then he snapped.

In the blink of an eye, Victor had one of his knives in his hand, pressing it against Roman’s throat. He stood behind him now, twisting his arm behind his back.

“Fuck! Zsasz, stop it, you fucking asshole!” Sionis yelled and clenched his jaw, his teeth audibly crunching, when Victor tightened his grip around his arm, pulling it further back, he might dislocate his shoulder if he kept going. “Trying to scare me won’t get you anywhere, either. I’m not fucking scared of you!”

“Well, you should be,” Zsasz muttered darkly against Roman’s ear, grazing the blade against his throat, feeling the way it bobbed, when Sionis swallowed thickly. He could feel him shivering slightly, too. Fucking liar.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Your men interrupted me. I couldn’t free the bird.”

“So that’s what this is about? Fuck! Let go of me, Zsasz. Now.”

“Or what?” He put a little pressure on the knife, the tip poking into the skin, probably drawing a little blood by then, “If I got rid of you now, I’d kill two birds with one stone. Then you couldn’t hold me back anymore.”

“Fuck you! I’m not holding you back and you know it. I’m the one who got you out of Arkham. I’m the one who gave you the opportunity to kill many people regularly. I’m the one who is fucking paying you for it, too. So fuck you! If you want to kill me, sure, go on, but remember that without me, you wouldn’t have nearly as many scars on your body as you do now.”

Zsasz faltered a little.

Roman was right.

No matter how much he hated to admit it – without Sionis, he wouldn’t have gotten this far so quickly. And he was only so fucking irritated because he got interrupted. Sure, that was Roman’s fault, but also his own. He knew the meeting was close and that he had to hurry; but he’d taken too long to choose one of the many drones he’d passed.

Slowly and very reluctantly, Victor let go of his boss, taking a step back from him and putting the knife back in his pocket.

His hands were trembling and he was sweating, his heart beat rapidly against his ribcage.

The itching just wouldn’t stop.

“Ew!” Roman exclaimed, after he found some blood on his fingertip from his neck. He’d definitely pay for this later. “Alright, Zsasz, listen – Remember that little fucker, one of my other henchmen – Justin? You can get rid of him. Quickly, though. You only have ten minutes,” Roman finally relented.

“Thank you, boss,” Zsasz heaved a sigh of relief and stalked over to where the others usually sat to take a break between businesses; anticipation coursed through his body now, squishing the anxiety like an ant.

He was sure to never repeat either of these mistakes again.

#attempted murder tw #roman sionis #roman sionis fanfiction #victor zsasz #victor zsasz fanfiction #zsaszmask #zsaszmask fanfic #harley quinn birds of prey #this is probably shit I'm sorry if it is #i just wanted to write again because I felt bad for leaving it for so long already #but uhhh yeah #i'm not feeling well at all and it shows in my writing #sorry

[imhereformr]

Hi! :) Could you please do prompt 11 for Rivusa? 💜💜 I wish you a wonderful day!

11: Secret Relationship

Rival gang AU /// Content warning: mildly smutty

The abandoned car factory wasn’t the most romantic place. It was certainly not where Musa had ever expected to be having rendez-vous’ with her lover. The place, even though it’d been deserted for close to twenty years now, smelled like a strange mixture of leather, chemicals and dust. Occasionally, the ghost smell of burning metal would tickle her nose, but those were rare. Besides, she spent most of her time coiled into Riven’s side, enveloped by the fresh, woodsy scent of his aftershave or the sweetness of his sweat.

She walked through the building to the backroom where they spent most of what little, precious time they had together. Always Monday nights, sometimes Wednesdays if they were lucky. She hated sneaking around, but it was necessary. If her father, the president of Magix’s Fallen Angels, found out his daughter was fucking – and in love with – the VP of their rival gang, The Dragon Riders, a war would break out between the two that would likely leave more dead bodies than she wanted to be responsible for.

No matter how hard she tried to keep quiet, her footsteps seemed to echo through the building. Every time they met up, she became paranoid. Musa was careful – more careful than she’d ever been about anything. She made sure to leave in the middle of the night once her father was asleep; made sure to always park her car a block away instead of in front of their house so that if he woke up he wouldn’t see her leave; made sure that no one was watching her as she got in her car; made sure that no cars followed her when she got off the ramp that led to the near-deserted stretch of road where the factory was; and made sure to park her car inside the old employee indoor garage who’s door that Riven had managed to fix so they could open and close it. All that effort – so much more effort than she ever thought she’d put into seeing a guy – just for a few hours by his side. And it was, in her opinion, more than worth it.

The door to the office where they spent their time was already open when she got there. Unlike the rest of the factory that was littered with trash, dirt and discarded production equipment, this office was in decent shape. It helped that Riven had taken the time to clean it when he had come across the area. There was a desk that faced towards the right wall, a torn black leather office chair, shelving and filing cabinets; all from the factory days, and all in surprisingly good condition. Riven had bought a loveseat for the corner of the office for them to cuddle up on a while back – that was the sole addition to the room. She would have preferred a bed so they could lie down, but there just wasn’t enough space.

Musa paused by the office door. Riven, leaning against the front of the desk with his phone in hand, still hadn’t noticed her arrival – she must not have been as loud as she thought – so she took a moment to drink him in. He was tall – significantly taller than her – with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. He always looked the same: dark wash jeans, a plain t-shirt and his leather jacket, the very one that told her she shouldn’t be near him. His maroon hair was slicked back – partially by stylistic choice, but also because he had a habit of running his hand through his hair whenever he was thinking about something or uncomfortable – and he still had a scar along his cheekbone from a fight he’d been in two weeks earlier. She knew that under his clothes, adorning a body worthy of a god, were more scars and bruises from that fight and others past, and two gunshot wounds: one in his right shoulder and one just above his left hip bone.

“Waiting for someone?” she asked when she realised she’d been staring at him far longer than was normal. Riven’s hand instinctively reached for the gun he kept tucked into the back of his jeans but stopped when he registered her voice. He looked at her over his shoulder and smiled brightly. His smile sent a bolt of lightning through Musa, awakening something deep in her. She returned his smile as she approached him, pulling off her own leather jacket. He mirrored her movements, tossing his jacket onto the desk where it landed on top of hers.

His lips were on hers within seconds, hungry and desperate. His hands wasted no time in making their way to her hips and pulling her as close to him as physically possible. Her own hands tangled in his hair, tugging lightly with every moan that escaped her lips. Riven backed her up against the wall, pressing himself into her. “You’re late” he whispered, removing his lips from hers to trail kisses down her neck.

“Sorry” she managed between gentle moans and pleased sighs. “Dad went to bed a bit later than usual.”

“Doesn’t matter. You're here.” His lips returned to hers, drowning her in desire. One of his hands wandered down from her shoulders to her chest, where his thumb brushed over her nipple lightly, sending a shiver through her, and down to the hem of her shirt. There was no pretense of modesty, no playfulness in the way Riven pulled the shirt off her. He knew what he wanted, and she was more than happy to give it to him. She hadn’t bothered to put a bra on in her rush to get out of the house, and Riven smirked when he noticed. He ducked down to suck at her nipple, and Musa arched her back to make it easier for him.

Her hands ran along his back, digging into him with her nails, until they found the edge of his shirt and yanked it over his head in one swift movement. Her eyes drifted down to his perfectly sculpted abs as she ran her hand across them, feeling every groove and bump. She let her hands slide lower, giddiness and anticipation building with every second, until one was cupping and teasing his bulge and the other was fiddling with his pant button.

Musa could feel his eyes on her, and when she lifted her own to meet them, she found him watching her with a softness that made her feel like goo. “What?” she laughed, her voice coming out much breathier than she’d expected. Riven shook his head, pulling his eyes away from hers and whispering an almost inaudible nothing. When they’d first started doing this – whatever this was – Musa would get upset when he would do that. She thought he was hiding something from her. It had been two years since then, and she knew better now. Nothing didn’t mean nothing; it meant I’m happy or you’re perfect or, her favourite, I love you.

***

Riven pulled her onto the loveseat beside him and draped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, feeling it rise and fall in time with his chest and heavy breaths. Her finger trailed along his sweat-slicked chest, drawing figure eights. A smile was plastered on his face and his eyes were still glazed over from his orgasm. He was beautiful.

“I’ve been looking at Melody” he told her after a few minutes. She could feel his fingers ghosting over the angel wings tattooed on her back. He traced the wings every time they were together, and every time she wished they weren’t there. Those wings represented a stupid, made up barrier keeping her from him, and she’d grown to despise them.

“Oh?” Musa raised her eyebrow as she tilted her head to look up at him. His eyes were focused on the dark office, but looked faraway from where they were. She loved his eyes. They were a deep shade of violet that swirled and danced every emotion he felt. He was her ticket into his soul and, now that she could figure them out, she never had to wonder if he truly loved her again. Until the day when those eyes wouldn’t look at her like she was the sun, she knew he was hers just as much, if not more, than she was his.

“You told me you’ve always wanted to see the realm your mom was from. And I looked into it, there is no Dragon charter out there. You’ll have to confirm about the Angels, but I couldn’t find anything.”

Musa sat upright, resting her palm flat against his chest. She searched his eyes for any hint of dishonesty or humour, but found none. “Really?” They’d talked about leaving Magix – getting away from the gang life and starting over somewhere – more times than she could count. Everywhere had been an idea: Solaria, Eraklyon, Andros, Melody, Zenith, Dalona, Oppositus. That’s all they’d ever been, though, ideas.

“Yeah. I don’t know what my future holds, but if it doesn’t include you – all of you, not just secret meetings in the middle of the night in some shitty abandoned factory – I don’t want it.” Riven dropped his head onto the back of the couch and let it flop sideways to look at her. His hand caressed her cheek with a tenderness that she knew he reserved for her. Her hand lowered from his chest to trace the dragon’s tail that coiled up his right leg, ending in a majestic magenta, blue and black dragon on his back. “I like Melody.”

“Good” he smiled. “I’ve looked at real estate and I have enough money saved up that we can get a nice place of our own. We couldn’t get anything big enough for a family in the city, but the suburbs are still really affordable.”

“The suburbs? Are we the suburban type?” she laughed. “I mean, I’ll have to learn to bake pies. And what the fuck does a PTA do?”

“Do you think we’ll have to get a minivan?” he added, laughing at the snort that escaped her lips.

“Of course. How else are we gonna get the kids to soccer practice?”

“Fine, but I refuse to wear beige or polos. And I still want at least one bike.”

“And I won’t wear dresses or curl my hair. Plus I demand that you keep at least one jacket. You look too hot in leather to give it up entirely.” Musa eyed the leather jackets crumpled on top of the desk. “Preferably one without a dragon on it.”

“We’re gonna scandalise the neighbours with our tattoos, leather jackets and motorcycles.”

“That’s fine. We’ll probably be the coolest parents in the neighbourhood.”

They fantasized about their life after escaping until Musa’s alarm went off at 4:15, breaking them out of the dream bubble they created and forcing them to return to their real lives. They got dressed as slowly as possible, dragging out the time until they’d have to be apart again. Then, the lovers walked hand in hand through the factory to the garage.

When they reached their vehicles, Riven pulled her into a passionate kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, reciprocating the tightness of his around her waist. After pulling away before the kiss became too heavy, Riven laid his forehead against hers. “One month” he whispered. She looked up at him through the messy fringe on her forehead. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was drawn tight. “That’s the goal. We leave in one month.”

“Wait, really?” Musa pulled her head away from his as she batted her eyelashes in confusion. She never thought he’d actually want to leave Magix. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, are you not?” Riven furrowed his eyebrows and clenched his jaw. She could feel his fists clenching on her back, and the doubt and hurt that sparked in his breathtaking eyes tore Musa to shreds, made her feel like she’d just stabbed the man she loved. “I’m in. I just never thought you would actually want to. I mean, the Dragons are your family.”

“And the Angels are yours, but we can make our own family. One free of drugs and turf wars.”

“Just pies, minivans and nosy, scandalised neighbours. Sounds perfect.”

“Anywhere that you are is perfect” he whispered, pulling her back in and placing a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. They stayed like that for a few minutes, breathing in each other's scent and memorising every feature so they wouldn’t forget them in the week until they could see each other again. Riven’s alarm went off, alerting them that it was 4:45 and they had to leave now. He pulled her into one last kissed, far sweeter than any they’d shared in their two years together. It was full of promise and hope, something they’d never had before.

“I love you Musa.” It was so rare to hear him say the words I love you that Musa cherished every single one. In their two years, he’d said it exactly twelve times. The first was a year ago when it had slipped out after they’d had sex. Not exactly romantic, but still very cute. “I love you too Riven.”

They shared one more quick peck before Musa watched him take a seat on his bike and ride away. She got in her car and let out an elated sigh and took off, already counting down the days. All she had to do now was sit tight and not let anything slip. It couldn��t be that hard; she’d already kept this secret for twenty-seven months. What was one more? She just had to make it through this one month without her excitement bubbling over and he would be all hers.

#winx club #winx #winx musa #winx riven #musa x riven #riven x musa #rivusa #prompt #AU #alternate universe #oneshot #lowkey want to make this not a oneshot though #rival gang musa x riven is something i didnt know i wanted this badly until now #winx fanfic #fanfiction

[let-it-raines]

Prompt: we met each other while each doing the (separate) walk of shame after a night out with other people.

Just a continuous shoutout to @shireness-says for sending me the most random but best prompts and also for only judging how bad of a cook I am a little 😘

on ao3 | here | if that’s how you want to read!

-/-

Emma doesn’t have rules about a lot of things in her life, but she has rules about this, about one-night stands.

Rule 1: They are always, always, always one night.

Rule 2: They never come back to her place.

Rule 3: She always gets up and leaves before they wake up, if she falls asleep there at all.

It’s not the nicest move in the world, but, well, Emma isn’t hanging around with these guys to be nice. She’s not there for the small talk, for the sink sharing as she brushes her teeth with a little toothpaste on her finger. She’s definitely not there for the breakfasts. She’s sure that they’re fine, that some of them are more than good, but, well, she doesn’t really care enough to get to know how the guy likes his eggs. The guy definitely doesn’t care how she takes hers. He probably just wants another fuck, and no matter how good the night before was, Emma doesn’t do more than one time.

Rule number one and all that.

And it’s not that she’s going around having one-time things all the time, and it’s not that there would be anything wrong with that if she was. But she’s been around the block enough times to know to come up with her rules.

Right now, she hates herself a little for falling asleep, but she’s become a tad bit rusty on this whole thing. It’s been awhile since she’s done this. She was with Walsh for a year, and, well, it took her awhile to need to scratch the itch after that ended. But last night…let’s just say she needed to last night, so she put on some mascara and a red lip, found a dress that was a little too tight and a little too low cut, and she went to a club for the first time in ages. She nearly texted Ruby and Mulan and asked them to come with her, but she chickened out at the last minute.

Emma Swan: catches bad guys for a living, chickens out asking her friends to go drinking and dancing with her.

The cold morning air nips at her legs and her shoulders, and she wraps her arms around herself as she dodges a sewer grate to keep her heel from getting caught. She’s nearly to her apartment door. She won’t freeze before then. Still, next time she’s remembering a jacket.

Emma speeds up when she’s a building away, especially as more people start leaving their apartments and heading for work or the gym or wherever else people go on Saturday mornings, and just as she’s reaching for the side door of her apartment building, someone else’s hand touches it first. She watches it, taking in the dark hair over the knuckles and up his forearm, and Emma’s eyes follow up his arm. He’s wearing a dark gray shirt that only has one or two buttons down at the bottom in order to show off an impressive amount of chest hair, and when she looks at his face, the first thing she notices is how messy his hair is and then the red pillow creases on his cheek.

Oh.

Emma blushes, but she doesn’t know why. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, especially since they’re both coming home from the same exact thing.

The man flashes a smile, bright white against the black of his slightly overgrown stubble, and pulls the door open before gesturing for her to move forward.

“After you, love.”

“Thanks,” Emma mumbles.

She ducks her head and walks inside the building, reveling in the heat that immediately comes down on her skin. She walks down the hallway, and the guy’s footsteps follow behind her. She gets into the elevator. He does too. If she didn’t slightly recognize him, her shoulders would tense and her nerves would stand on edge. She does recognize him, though, from around the building. She’s sure she’s seem him once or twice before.

“Cold out there this morning,” he whistles as his fingers begin to toy with his shirt, one more button closing, not that it helps.

“Yep.”

“Almost makes staying until they wake up worth it.”

“Or paying for a damn cab.”

He huffs and tilts his head back to scratch his jaw. That is an unfairly sharp jawline. “Killian Jones. Floor seven.”

“Emma.”

“No last name? Or floor number?”

“Oh Jones,” Emma sighs, twisting toward him. She crosses her arms under her bust despite knowing it will draw attention to her boobs, and sure enough, he glances down. “You’re going to have to watch me do the walk of shame a few more times before you get any of that.”

There’s that smile again. The door opens on his floor, and he steps through the opening but still places his hand on the door to keep it from closing. “It’s only a walk of shame if you’re ashamed of it. I prefer to think of it as a stride of pride. Or perhaps, just a very satisfied walk home.”

And then he’s gone, and the doors close behind him as Emma goes up one more floor.

-/-

“Well, you certainly look different.”

Emma’s shoulder’s tense, and slowly, she turns on her head to see what jackass is talking to her. It takes her a moment to recognize him, a moment of cold weather and tired eyes and the slightest bit of a hangover, but she rarely forgets a face. Or a man who displays that much chest in nearly freezing weather. Then again, she was doing the same. She notices he seems to be doing the same thing now while she’s got on a shirt that covers almost all of her.

“Yeah, well, I find flannel is much more comfortable than skin-tight sequins.”

She’s in her pajamas in the lobby of her building getting the mail. Yeah, most people are just now getting home from work and are in real clothes, but when you have the day off, there’s no reason to put on real pants.

“Oh, I agree. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable it is when I have to wear sequins, Swan.”

She fully turns. “I never told you my last name.”

Killian leans forward and taps on her mailbox where E. Swan is written. Just below it, there’s a K. Jones. Oh.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

Emma locks her box and steps to the side so Killian can get his mail. There are only two envelopes in there, and one of them is a slip to pick up a package from the front desk. Emma swears it’s the only reason they still have these mailboxes. She realizes she’s standing there staring at the back of his head and at the suit he’s wearing even though she has no reason to still be there. She needs to be back up in her apartment getting dressed to go to the gym since she’s neglected it all day today. She should have gotten up this morning and gotten it over with.

Idly, she wonders what he does for a living, but then she remembers she needs to go before she seems weird.

Weirder.

She’s definitely already weird.

-/-

He’s at her gym.

Granted, it’s literally the gym in the building next door to her where all of the residents go, but still. She’s never seen him in there before.

She also rarely goes at this time.

He’s running on the treadmill in a fitted shirt and pair of joggers, and she’s on the elliptical behind him, warming up before her Pilates class. Emma ducks her head and focuses on her music and her movement, trying not to draw his attention.

When he winks at her in the mirror, she knows she’s failed.

When she nearly falls over on the elliptical, she decides she’s going to have to move apartments.

(Not really. She’d never leave this place, not when it’s a damn good apartment.)

-/-

Emma hates doing honeytraps. They feel demeaning and a little sexist, but they work. She puts on a skintight dress, pushes her boobs up, combs out her hair, and she can get the guys she needs to pay her enough attention that she can easily handcuff them and bring them down to the closest precinct.

Tonight, it went fine. It took her longer to curl her hair than to get the guy to flirt with her at the bar, but on her walk back to her car from the precinct, someone drove by and splashed dirty water all over her. It was a good dress. She should have worn the cheaper one.

It’s long past midnight when she gets back to her apartment, and even though she looks like she’s the one who got arrested tonight, she walks through her lobby, nodding at the night guard, and then heads toward the elevator with her wet shoes in hand. It’s amazing that no one complains about her and gets her kicked out. There’s a group of women in this building who take pride in judging anyone who isn’t just like them, and Emma avoids them at all costs.

Who she can’t seem to avoid, however, is Killian Jones, because he comes sulking in the side door and gets in the elevator at the last moment, sticking his hand through the closing doors until they open back up just for him.

“We have to stop meeting here,” he teases.

“I believe last time we met at the gym.”

“Well, I’d say we’d have to stop meeting there as well, but I’m sure you had a grand time staring at my ass as I ran.”

“Are you always this conceited?”

“Confident.” Emma rolls her eyes as the elevator doors finally close. “Rub some detergent on your stain and then scrub it with a toothbrush before washing it. The stain should come out.”

Emma looks down at her outfit. It’s far beyond the point of repair, especially with a toothbrush. “Uh, thanks.”

“And maybe don’t sleep with a man who ruins your dress like that.”

“Oh, this is from work,” she laughs, adjusting her heels in her hands.

“What in the bloody hell do you do?”

“Bounty hunter, bail bonds, things like that. A little bit of everything. This,” she gestures to her dress, “was an accident from a reckless driver speeding outside the police station.”

“Just who are you, Swan?” Killian asks with a smirk and raised brows. She has a feeling he does that a lot.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles at her teasing, leaning in that little bit closer to her, and she’s reminded of how small this space is. Emma wants to change the subject from herself, so she quickly asks, “aren’t you a little too overdressed to be coming home from your…stride of pride?”

He smiles and scratches behind his ear. “Coming home from the office, actually.”

“It’s one in the morning.”

The doors open again on his floor and he steps outside, holding his hand to the door. “Work never stops when your boss is an asshole who thinks contract negotiations cannot be handled during normal business hours. See you around, Swan.”

Emma waves and smiles as the doors close again.

-/-

Emma goes weeks without seeing him, and she nearly forgets about the man who keeps seeing her at slightly low points in her life. It all goes on. She goes to work, and since the scumbags are out in full force, she makes enough in a month to cover rent for six months. It feels damn good to be that secure in her life when half a decade ago she never would have been able to consider living in a nice place and knowing she could pay for it. She goes out with her friends, sometimes stays in since David and Mary Margaret are homebodies ever since they decided to try for a baby, which Emma knows way too much about – seriously, Mary Margaret shares details about the positions and tracking apps and womb temperatures, and it’s a great way to make sex seem unappealing –  and things get back to normal as winter melts into spring and the miserable chill of Boston fades away.

But then she has a bad day.

“What do you even know about family?”

The words were spit at her as the man ran out of the restaurant in the same way that he’d run out on his family, and even though he’s now going to be held accountable for his actions, nothing about it sat right with Emma. How can you have a family and just leave them? Why do people keep doing that?

So instead of going home, she goes to a bar, ordering a drink and sitting in the corner as she watches other people drink and talk and, quite frankly, dance poorly. It’s entertaining if only because it keeps her mind off her own life, and then she sees him.

He’s in dark jeans and a button-down, black leather jacket still on, and even though he seems to be in a group of friends, Emma walks over to him, tapping him on the shoulder until he turns to look at her with a smirk and a raised brow.

Yep, he definitely does that move a lot.

“Fancy seeing you here, love.”

“I could say the same to you.”

The smirk widens to a smile, and he has ridiculously blue eyes. She didn’t even know that kind of blue was possible in such dark lighting.

“Swan, this is Rob, Will, and Eric. Mates, this is Emma. She lives in my building.”

They all mutter different versions of ‘nice to meet you’ and Emma returns the platitudes. Then Killian orders her another glass of wine while ordering himself some more rum, and instead of sitting alone all night, she sits with him.

And his friends. But she kind of forgets about them as she talks to Killian. He’s charming, funny too, and while she tends to think corporate lawyers must have had their soul sucked away at some point in their lives, she doesn’t think that about him.

She likes him.

It’s a weird feeling after going so long floundering around after Walsh, not sure that any man is capable of keeping her genuinely entertained for more than an hour, but it’s three hours later, and her jaw hurts from smiling. After earlier, she definitely didn’t think she was capable of smiling that much.

Or at all.

At some point, she tells Killian her guilty pleasure food is grilled cheese, as greasy as you can get, and they end up in a small diner with grilled cheese and cups of coffee in front of them. It’s damn good grilled cheese, and after she finishes chewing, she covers her mouth and laughs.

“What?” he asks with his mug in front of his lips.

“You really took me to get grilled cheese as if me liking it was a personality trait.”

His brows raise, little lines raising with them, and he takes another sip of his coffee. “I don’t know about you, but a night out drinking now isn’t the same as when I was twenty-two. You have to do the hangover prep beforehand.”

“Old man.”

He shrugs. “I imagine I’m not much older than you.”

“Yeah, but I can handle my alcohol better.”

“We’ll have to see about that another night.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

They leave the diner and the neon signs behind sometime around three in the morning, and when they get back to their apartment and into the elevator, Emma gets off on the sixth floor instead of the seventh.

-/-

Rule 3: She always gets up and leaves before they wake up, if she falls asleep there at all.

When Emma opens her eyes, she knows she’s failed herself.

The sun is shining through his curtains, indicating that it’s long past her normal escape hours, and even though the view outside is the same as her apartment, she knows that she isn’t in her apartment. Not even close.

Well, geographically speaking, no, she’s actually very close. She’s only one floor below. Her bedroom is right above this, and her bed is in the exact same place.

But her bed is empty, the covers still pulled up, and there isn’t a naked man in it.

Or a naked Emma.

Shit.

Killian’s hand is on her boob, his leg half-draped over hers, and slowly, she moves them both off. She has to go, to get out of her, but just as she’s moving him, he moves himself.

Closer. He moves closer.

“Hmmm, morning,” he hums, flicking his finger against her breast before moving it down over her side and to her hip. His hands are surprisingly calloused for someone who spends all day in an office, but she likes it. She remembers thinking that last night too. “Do you want breakfast? Or do you need to go? Either is fine with me.”

She’s almost offended he gives her choices, but then she realizes what he’s saying. He doesn’t care if she stays or goes, and that makes the ball of anxiety in Emma’s chest get smaller. Emma flips over to face him. His hair is a mess and a red mark is on his cheek. He sleepily grins.

“I need to go. This was great, but it was a one-time thing.”

He flips over on his back and crosses his arms behind his head. The comforter is pulled just low enough on his hips that she can see just enough to entice her to stay, but she doesn’t. She goes, getting dressed as he watches her before awkwardly saying goodbye.

“It’s a stride of pride,” he yells out, his accent thicker than usual, and Emma finds herself smiling as she closes the door behind her.

-/-

Rule 2: They never come back to her place.

Okay, so the thing about Killian living in the apartment below her is that he knows where she lives. And that’s fine. She’s pretty good at reading people, and she didn’t peg him as someone she needed to worry about. From their first meeting, she knows he’s comfortable with one-time things. He’s not going to be someone who tries for more, which is what she’s like.

But now he’s at her door, take-out bag in hand, saying he stopped by after work but decided he didn’t want the grease. Is there any chance she’d like it?

She would.

And despite the fact that she practically raised herself and didn’t exactly teach herself manners, she does have some. So she lets him in, offers him some coffee that he takes, and they sit and talk for awhile, about nothing and everything and all of the other things in between. It’s nice, and it’s not until he takes off his suit jacket and undoes the buttons on his shirt that she remembers that they slept together.

Several times in one night.

Because she’s, well, an idiot.

And now he’s at her place drinking her coffee while she eats food he brought her. It’s all a little too domestic for her, a little too comfortable, so instead of water, she grabs wine to dull her mind.

“You like wine?” Emma asks.

“Love it.”

“Good. Let’s drink.”

Killian chuckles. “Let me finish my coffee first, and then I’ll join you. Mind if we move to the living room?”

She absolutely minds. That’s a horrible, horrible idea.

“Not at all.”

-/-

Rule 1: They are always, always, always one night.

She messed up.

Big time.

Okay, so she’s messed up big time, multiple times.

Because Killian is asleep in her bed with only his boxers on, she’s wearing his shirt like some kind of movie cliché, and there’s a mark on her neck that’s going to require some makeup to hide.

Great. Just great.

It can’t get any worse.

-/-

She offers him breakfast.

He accepts and stays.

Shit.

-/-

Emma’s life is pretty unpredictable. From her job hours to her appetite to the outfits she’s going to wear. She likes it that way. It keeps her from getting bored or thinking too much. She likes not having a routine.

She likes it, and plans on keeping it that way.

But little by little she starts to notice a routine forming.

He’ll show up at her apartment with food. She’ll show up at his with nothing most of the time but sometimes a bottle of wine or rum, since she now knows that’s what he prefers. They talk, they laugh, maybe they watch a little TV, but it always, always, always ends up in the same place.

In bed.

Or on the couch. Once or twice in the kitchen even if that is the devil on her ass and her knees, but in the moment, she’s not thinking too much about that.

Or about how she’s broken every single one of her rules more than once. They are gone, out her window, and she doesn’t know how to get back to them.

Emma doesn’t think she wants to. She likes this arrangement. She’s got a friend and a fuck buddy all in one, and she doesn’t have to go out to find someone. There’s no lingerie or hour’s worth of makeup or heels that hurt her. It’s pajamas and whatever unmatched underwear she happens to have on that day. Killian doesn’t care, and she likes that.

She likes spending time with him.

That was not in the plan.

-/-

There’s a tap on her bedroom floor. Then another one. And another.

Emma picks up her phone.

ES: Are you hitting a broom against your ceiling?

KJ: Yes, come down here.

ES: You come up here.

KJ: No. I need to show you something.

ES: If it’s your dick, I’m not leaving my apartment. I’ve seen it.

KJ: And it’s very impressive, I know. But no, that’s not it.

Emma laughs and rolls off her bed, pulling on boots with her jean shorts and t-shirt. She looks ridiculous, but she doesn’t care. When Killian opens his apartment door, he glances down at her for a moment, but then he’s ushering her inside and shoving a stack of paper in her face.

“What’s this?” Emma asks.

“Read it,” he insists, bouncing on his feet.

Emma reads it, doesn’t understand what the hell any of it means, but there are two very clear words written at the bottom.

Junior Partner.

Holy shit.

“They’re making you partner?” Emma gasps, looking up at him. “Holy shit, Jones!”

“I know,” he laughs. “Who would have thought the arrogant, Navy-educated asshole would make Junior Partner at the ripe old age of thirty-five?”

“Hey, you’re only, like, a minor level asshole.” He rolls his eyes, and Emma drops the paper down before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Congratulations. You deserve it.”

“Oh, I definitely don’t, but if I’ve fooled them into it, I won’t correct them.”

Emma laughs and hugs him tighter as his hands move up and down her back, settling just above her ass. “Should we celebrate?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Go out? Or stay in and eat cake? Sex?”

“There’s a company party at my boss’s house if you’d like to come.”

“All for you?”

“No,” he laughs, kissing her forehead and patting her back once more. “For the fourth tomorrow, but it’s free booze and free food.”

“Then I’m there.”

-/-

Even with the free booze, free food, and ridiculously gigantic pool, Emma kind of regrets coming to this thing. She doesn’t know anyone but Killian, and every single person keeps calling her his girlfriend even when he corrects them.

Emma is definitely not his girlfriend.

But after awhile, there’s only so many times you can deny it, and Killian starts telling people different stories of how they met, making them more ridiculous as he goes along. She doesn’t know how this won’t backfire since he has to work with these people, but he assures her they all work in different departments. He never sees them, and they never see each other.

To one man, they met on a cruise. To another, it was in the buffet line at a shopping center. To someone in accounting, they met at a cooking class where Emma was just struggling so much that he had to come help her out.

She’s offended even if that’s totally what would have happened had she gone to a cooking class.

There are so many different stories and meetings that Emma can’t keep up, especially as she tries to remember names. Eventually she gives up and laughs along at how good of a liar and storyteller that Killian is. She could listen to him do this for hours.

And she does.

The sun starts to set, and they settle on a swing in the backyard, his arm around her shoulder as they sway back and forth. Her skin is sun-kissed, her eyes tired, and she hasn’t felt as content as she is right now in a long damn time.

“This was fun,” she tells Killian.

“Aye,” he agrees, kissing her temple and rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “Thank you for coming with me. I’m sure you had better plans than to come to this.”

“Not a one.”

He raises his brow. “No?”

“Nope. I can’t think of anything better than drinking free alcohol and lying to your coworkers about how we met. None of them know it was because both of us were coming home from one-night stands.”

“And that’s the most romantic one.”

Emma tilts her head back in laughter. “Ah, yes, the old ‘we met after fucking other people.’ A classic love story.”

Killian kicks at the ground to keep them swinging, and Emma pulls her legs up, curling them underneath her. “You know, Swan, that was the best one-night stand of my life.”

“She that good?”

“I don’t even remember her, but I remember running into you. You were, are, gorgeous, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Believe it or not, I do fancy you from time to time.”

Emma’s heart is doing something ridiculous, and she doesn’t think she can stop it.

“Is it all the orgasms?”

He laughs at her joke, but he pulls her closer, resting his cheek against her head as they keep moving. “Those are bloody fantastic, but I like other things about you too. I like doing things like this, talking, having a cuddle, watching my boss make an idiot of herself on her diving board. I’d like to do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” She’s half-joking, but when she twists her head to look at Killian, she sees that he’s not.

Oh.

Oh.

“Aye, I am. If you’re amenable to that.”

Emma gulps to get air down in her lungs, and before she can think too much about it, she nods her head and leans up to kiss Killian in a way that she’s never really kissed him before – with no intention of it leading to something more than this, the two of them swaying on a swing wrapped around each other. “I would definitely be.”

“Good. Tomorrow?”

“I’m busy. Going out with a new guy. But maybe another time.”

She knows his eyes roll as he kisses her, and Emma could get used to this.

-/-

New rule: Never, ever, ever kiss anyone but Killian Jones ever again.

Emma thinks she can definitely stick to that rule.

#stride of pride #cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #shireness-says

[rosiehunterwolf]

For the Romping and the Roaring- Part 2

My submission for Day 2 of @serpentfever's Inhuman Event!

Link to read on ffn.net (Recommended if you are on mobile or haven't read the first part yet)

Preview:

The hair on the back of her neck raised, sensing the hit a moment before it came, but by then it was too late to dodge, even with her quick reflexes.

Kai’s hand shoved into her chest, and she hit the ground hard. She gasped, more from shock than pain, and then her brother was darting past her, out the door.

She gazed after him, dazed. She had experienced her fair share of fights with her brother, but he had never hit her before. It hadn’t hurt bad- she knew the raw strength he could pack, and that he had been holding back immensely, but it still- it still made her heart race.

“Nya!” Jay yelped, running over to her. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine,” she breathed, her voice shaking hard. She swallowed, trying to force out the tremor.

This hadn’t changed anything. She wasn’t afraid of her brother. Just a bit shocked, that was all. He hadn’t meant to do it, he had just lashed out out of frustration.

He would never hurt her on purpose.

He would never.

(Full chapter under the cut)

Prompts Used: Injury

Word Count: 6,730 (wooo this one hopefully won't crash my browser)

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Dehumanization

“Lloyd, come away from the door. It’s too cold outside.”

Lloyd looked back reluctantly at Nya’s call. Kai peered at him from over the large grocery bag he was carrying.

“She’s right, bud. The last thing we need is for someone to get sick. Medicine is pricey,” he added, frowning at the lightness of his wallet.

Zane carried in another bag beside him and pulled the door shut. Nya walked over to him, ruffling Lloyd’s hair as she passed. “How are we doing on cash?”

“We still got enough for a little while. But not a ton. I guess I underestimated all the stuff we would need.” He frowned, glancing around at their makeshift home, shivering as a chill tickled through the air. “We should’ve gotten more blankets. With winter coming, it’s going to be tough having no heat.”

“We should take turns sleeping with Lloyd. He’s like a little living furnace.”

Kai smirked. “Well, at least that’s one person we shouldn’t have to worry about. I thought he might be more vulnerable because of how small he is, but those dragon and oni genes really seem to be doing something for him.”

“Speaking of which,” Nya sighed, “he nearly set Cole on fire today.”

Kai winced. “Did we lose anything?”

“Just a blanket and part of a shirt.”

Kai shook his head, turning towards the boy. “Lloyd, what did I say about using fire breath indoors?”

Lloyd hardly seemed to hear, gekkering softly as he climbed up a support beam, flapping his wings a few times to propel him up to the rafters. Red eyes glowed eerily down at them, and Kai sighed.

“He’s only getting more restless the longer we’re in here,” Nya growled. “You don’t know what a pain he is when you’re gone.”

Kai crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s been two weeks. We can’t keep him in here forever.”

“We can’t stay here forever,” Cole grunted, looking up from the book he was reading. “We’re already running low on funds. We’re going to have to get jobs, somehow. And we can’t live in an abandoned warehouse for the rest of our lives- already, we’re struggling with the winter coming. Jay’s already got a cold. Sooner or later, one of us is going to freeze to death.”

Kai drummed his fingers along his thigh, turning his gaze to where the lab hybrid was snuggled on the floor in a pile of blankets, near the center of the building, where it was warmest. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s gonna be fine, it’s just a common cold. We’re just letting him sleep it off. But winter’s only just beginning. It’s only going to get worse from here on out.”

“Cole’s right,” Zane said. “We have to try something else.”

“We’re just a bunch of kids,” Nya snapped, her voice tight. “We have no idea what we’re doing.”

“Perhaps it’s time… we start looking for help.”

Three wary gazes shifted to Zane.

Kai narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that? Everybody hates our skins. Who would help us?”

“We don’t know that for sure. Borg told us that the world had it out for us… but he also pretended to care about us when he was really just using us.”

“Are you suggesting we go to the police?!” Nya growled. “Do you want to die?”

“Borg lied about a lot of things. What if he was lying about this, too?”

“And what if he wasn’t?” Kai retorted. “That’s a huge risk, Zane. One we can’t afford to take.”

“It was only a suggestion.”

“I get where you’re coming from, Zane,” Cole sighed, “but they’re right. That’s a big risk, and if we’re chased out, we have nowhere to go this time.”

“So what do we-”

They were interrupted by a shrill shriek, and whipped around to see Jay jerking up into a sitting position, Lloyd half-slumped over his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“Lloyd, leave Jay alone, he’s resting,” Kai chastised, rushing over to scoop him off of Jay. Lloyd squirmed in his grip, and Kai sighed. “What is wrong with you today?”

“He’s got too much energy for this cramped little place,” Nya told him. “He’s gonna end up hurting someone if we don’t do something about it.”

“Take him outside,” Jay sniffed, “before he burns the whole place down. And besides, he’s the only one of us you guys haven’t let wander since we got here. How is this different from what Borg did to him his whole life?”

“We’re protecting him from Borg,” Kai growled sharply. “If it was up to Borg, he’d be dead right now. I think we’re doing a much better job.”

“I’m not saying we aren’t,” Jay corrected quickly, waving his hands. “But I thought we wanted to give him the freedom he never had.”

“It’s not that simple, Jay,” Nya sighed. “Lloyd’s wanted- we all are, but he’s got the most at risk. If he’s spotted by anyone from Borg- it’s dangerous, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Of course it is. But so is hiding in an abandoned building for the rest of our lives. So is having nothing but a quickly-dwindling stash of money to our name. So is sleeping in a cold building with no heat through the winter. So is keeping a frustrated, fire-breathing brat inside a flammable area for two weeks.”

Lloyd shot a plume of fire at his face, and Jay shrieked, ducking. “See? I told you!” “Nah, he’s just mad at you for calling him a brat,” Nya snickered.

Kai gritted his teeth, pushing Lloyd’s face to the side until he stopped. “Jay does have a point, though. Maybe it’s worth trying to take him out.”

“But Borg-”

“We’ll be really careful,” Kai told her. “I’ll make sure he’s ready, and on his best behavior. You plan out where we’re going to go.”

Cole frowned. “How many of us are going to be going?”

“Two, plus Lloyd, would be ideal. Any more would draw too much attention.”

“Three of us could still be risky,” Cole warned. “Everyone at Borg looking for us will know what we look like. Disguises can only go so far.”

“I don’t want to just send one person out with Lloyd, though. If things go south, we’re going to need to stall for a little bit until we can get away.”

Cole crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure how much I like the odds of two of you against a whole legion of Borg associates.”

“We don’t know for sure there’ll be that many,” Zane reminded. “And it will take a while to call backup.”

“And besides,” Kai added, “I’m not planning on getting noticed. It’s just a precaution if we do.”

Everyone stared expectantly at Cole, who remained silent. Lloyd struggled in his arms, and Kai let him go. The boy bounded over to the badger hybrid, and gripped his leg, looking up pleadingly. Cole looked down at him, his forehead creasing. Closing his eyes, he let out a long sigh.

“Alright, Kai, but I really hope you know what you’re doing.”

---

Kai, in fact, did not know what he was doing.

The plan was so simple in his head- teach Lloyd to blend in by having him get used to disguises and showing him the proper behaviors. They had done a very similar thing every time they had taken Lloyd out on one of their outings, back when they had still been living at Borg Tower. How hard could it be, really?

As it turned out, very hard.

Nya had not been lying about his exuberance. He seemed determined to make every little thing difficult.

“Lloyd, just put on this hat! You’ve done it before, quit being stubborn now!”

Lloyd jerked away from the hat like it was some sort of disease, hissing and batting at it. When Kai tried to pull it over his head, the boy grabbed it in his teeth and started pulling.

“No, no, don’t rip it! Augh, why can’t you just do as you’re told!”

“How’s the training going?” Nya laughed.

Kai turned to glare at her, releasing the hat. “Fine, thank you.”

“Really? Because it looks like your pupil just got away…”

Kai jerked his head back. Lloyd had dragged the hat, by his teeth, across the room, and was now slipping himself under the slab of wood that they had used as a foundation for a bed, which was much too low to the floor for Kai to even dream of fitting under.

He scowled, walking over to where Lloyd had wedged himself into, and stuck his arm underneath it, praying that he didn’t lose any fingers.

Luckily, Lloyd didn’t seem to be in a biting mood, but Kai could feel him cringing back from his touch.

“Come on, Lloyd, just come out of there already-”

He stopped as he realized Nya was giggling. Shooting her a glare, he growled, “What’s so funny?”

“You think you’re gonna have him ready to go by the end of the week?”

“You see if I don’t. You’re gonna be sorry you ever doubted me.”

“Uh-huh. If that’s what you need to tell yourself, I suppose.”

---

“Brr,” Jay huffed, as he and Nya pushed the door shut. “The wind’s really picking up out there.”

“Hopefully it’s just a cold streak,” she agreed. “I don’t want it to be too cold if we’re bringing Lloyd out in a couple days.”

“You guys still on for that?”

“I think so. Kai says he’s making progress with him. I guess we’ll have to see.”

“Hey Nya, Jay,” Cole nodded at them. “You feeling better, bro?”

“Oh, a lot better. Good as new! I think it was just a little cold. I can go back to helping out, now.”

Zane sighed. “We were fortunate, this time. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“Lloyd,” Nya called, pulling a package of gummy bears out of one of the shopping bags. “We got a surprise for you!”

She cast her gaze to the rafters, expecting him to come leaping down, but was surprised when she saw him wriggle out from where he was dozing beside Kai, instead.

She handed him the bag. “Don’t eat them all at once, okay? We’re a little tight on money right now, so you won’t be getting any more for a while.”

The smile he shot her was small, with no teeth, as he took the bag. “Thanks, Nya.”

She frowned at him. The last time she had brought him candy, he had basically been jumping off the walls with excitement, his tail swishing and ears twitching. Now, he was barely even smiling, and stood abruptly still.

Tugging at the seal, his brow furrowed as it didn’t open. When he didn’t immediately tear it open with his fangs, and instead handed it to her so she could open it for him, she knew something was definitely off.

“What’s wrong, Lloyd? Are you feeling alright? Aren’t you happy with it?”

“No, I want it!” he yelped, grabbing for the bag.

She frowned at him, snatching it away. “Why are you acting so weird?”

Lloyd’s ears drooped, his hands dropping to his side. “Kai told me to act like the humans so I could go outside. Did I do bad?”

Nya felt her heart squeeze. “Oh, no, honey, you didn’t do anything wrong. I… I’m just not used to seeing you like this.”

He looked up at her, red eyes hopeful. “I did it right? I acted good?”

Nya took a slow breath. “Yeah, I mean… Lloyd, what exactly did Kai tell you to do?”

Lloyd shrugged. “He said if I smile too much, people can see my fangs.” Peeling back his lips, he pointed to the sharp teeth, as if Nya needed a demonstration. “Seeh?”

“Yes, Lloyd, I see. But why do you need to hide your fangs in here?”

“Kai said I’m prat-practicing,” Lloyd told her matter-of-factly, looking immensely pleased with himself for pronouncing the long word. “So I can be good when we go outside!”

Nya’s stomach felt hard. “What other kinds of things did he tell you to do, Lloyd?”

“He teached me how to not wiggle my ears so much.” He pointed to his ears, making a point of holding them still. “And we talked a lot. He’s showing me to walk on my feet better too, which is kinda wobbly though, and not as fast as using my hands, too. But Kai said I’m doing better than I was! Hey, Nya,” he added, pointing at her face, “you’re doing that thing Kai told me not to do. I can see your fangs!”

Nya unclenched her teeth, working her jaw. “Thanks, bubs. I’m gonna go talk to Kai now, okay? You have some of your gummies.”

Turning to where her brother was slouched against the wall, paging through a magazine, she stormed over to him. He glanced up at her nonchalantly, and Nya felt a surge of frustration in her chest at how calm he was.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why have you been teaching that stuff to Lloyd, Kai? Why is he acting so… weird?”

“You mean normal? It’s great, isn’t it? I gotta admit, it felt like an impossible task at the beginning of the week, but he’s reformed pretty quickly. I think he’s almost ready to go out!”

“It’s not great,” she growled. “You’ve completely changed who he is! There’s a difference between teaching him to stay low and to completely reforming him into human society!”

Kai eyed her testily. “I don’t see what the big deal is. What else were you expecting me to do?”

“I wanted you to hide him, not change his behavior! This isn’t him, Kai!”

“Relax, Nya, it’s just some minor modifications. He’s still our mischievous little brother!” “Really? Because he seemed much less feral to me.”

“Well, yeah! We can’t have him acting out in the middle of the city! I, for one, think this is an improvement. He hasn’t set anything on fire in days.”

“We’re not humans, Kai! We’re different than them, and that’s okay! He has to know that. He has to know what we are! We can’t just try to change him just because it’s what the world wants.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with being like the humans. They’ve gotten off alright, haven’t they? Meanwhile, we’ve spent our whole lives being cheated and used.”

“Just because something’s hard doesn’t mean we should just give up! I can’t believe you, don’t you care about your identity at all?” “I care about surviving. I’m trying to keep us safe! What’s a few little changes if it benefits us in the long run?”

“It might start as just some small changes, Kai, but eventually it’s going to snowball into something bigger.” She felt her voice catch in her throat. “I don’t want to teach him to hide who he is. I want him to be proud. He hasn’t done anything wrong! We left Borg to get away from that, didn’t we? So that we could start our own paths and be who we wanted to be?”

“You wanted to be homeless and poor?”

“Kai!”

“What? You’re upset with me for telling the truth? We ran away from Borg so we could live. It was out of necessity, not even a choice, really.”

“Borg was our captor. He lied to us our whole lives, made us believe he was the only one who cared when he couldn’t be bothered with us at all. If you’re seriously defending him right now-”

“I’m not defending him, of course I’m not!” Kai jumped to his feet, growling. “What kind of psychopath do you think I am? He tried to kill my baby brother! If you think I would be on his side after that-”

“But don’t you see, it’s more than just that! He was hurting all of us, for years. He was a bad person even before he decided to get rid of Lloyd. Now’s our chance to finally be free of all that. Now’s our chance to be ourselves, to-”

“To get captured again, according to you.”

“How could you say that? I want to protect everyone as much as you do, but I also think you are posing a threat to us by imposing on us the same rules Borg did-”

“How dare you compare me to him!” Kai roared. Nya flinched, and she felt the others turn their gazes on them. “I am nothing like that wretch, nothing, I want nothing more than to protect my family from him! I am doing what I must to keep us safe from him, to keep us as far away as possible. I am trying to avoid suspicion, and I don’t care about your sentimental values. I care about surviving!”

If it was anyone else, they would’ve backed down. Kai didn’t break out his roar at just any time, especially not on those he cared about. When he did, you knew he was seriously pissed. No one in their right minds would mess with him when he was mad.

But Nya was his sister, and her temper was just as hot. Although she might not have the strength of a lion behind her, or the fierceness of his roar, she wasn’t going to let her brother scare her.

“You are not protecting us, you are only restricting us, and the sooner you find out that you are just treating us like he did-”

The hair on the back of her neck raised, sensing the hit a moment before it came, but by then it was too late to dodge, even with her quick reflexes.

Kai’s hand shoved into her chest, and she hit the ground hard. She gasped, more from shock than pain, and then her brother was darting past her, out the door.

She gazed after him, dazed. She had experienced her fair share of fights with her brother, but he had never hit her before. It hadn’t hurt bad- she knew the raw strength he could pack, and that he had been holding back immensely, but it still- it still made her heart race.

“Nya!” Jay yelped, running over to her. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine,” she breathed, her voice shaking hard. She swallowed, trying to force out the tremor.

This hadn’t changed anything. She wasn’t afraid of her brother. Just a bit shocked, that was all. He hadn’t meant to do it, he had just lashed out out of frustration. And, although she still believed she was in the right, she had provoked him a bit, if she was being honest.

He would never hurt her on purpose.

He… he would never do that.

He would never.

He…

“Nya?”

She blinked, realizing Jay was extending a hand to her. She took it, and let Jay pull her to her feet.

“Are you sure you’re okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No!” she hissed fiercely, and Jay flinched. Gentler, she added, “I’m fine. Kai would never do that.”

Jay didn’t meet her gaze, only gripped her hand tighter.

“Where did he go?” she asked the others, after her breathing had returned to a somewhat normal state.

“Straight out the door,” Zane replied. “No one saw which way he went.”

Nya glanced around the room, stopping when she realized Kai wasn’t the only one missing. “Where’s Lloyd?”

Zane pointed quietly under one of their makeshift beds. A pair of red eyes glowed from underneath.

Nya crouched down, reaching her hand in. “We didn’t mean to scare you, Lloyd. Come on out, it’s alright now.”

Lloyd burrowed deeper under the bed. Nya sighed, giving up. She knew he would only come out when he was ready.

“Should I go after Kai?” Cole asked, frowning.

Zane shook his head. “I think it’s best to give him some space to blow off some steam.”

“I just hope he’s careful. If he’s too full of anger to pay attention to what he’s doing…”Jay’s tail drooped. “The last thing we need is for anyone to get spotted now.”

“We’re pretty far out here,” Cole assured him. “If we were closer to the city, I’d be worried, but Kai’d have to get pretty far to get anywhere within the distance I think the Borg employees would be searching.”

“I hope you’re right,” Nya sighed. “One day, his temper is going to get him- or one of us- into a situation he can’t get out of.”

---

The next couple days were incredibly tense. Kai came back a few hours later, not speaking to anyone and going straight to bed. He and Nya hardly spoke to each other, and when they did, their interactions were short and argumentative. The others were careful to stay out of it, not picking any sides. Kai had a feeling that they were pretty uncomfortable around him, though.

He hadn’t meant to hit Nya. She was his sister. Even though she was being stupid and sentimental, he still loved her and never would want to hurt her. But it wasn’t like he had seriously wounded her, either. It had just been a little scuffle. He knew that Nya knew that, and that she was only mad about the argument. The others, however… they were overreacting. He didn’t understand, after all their years together, how they could seriously think he would harm one of them.

That’s what the point of all of this was, wasn’t it? To protect them? Why couldn’t anyone else see that?

He was sick of all this. Sick of all the fighting, sick of struggling and hiding all the time. He just wished they could be normal.

Although Nya wanted anything but that, it seemed.

He understood what she was saying, in a sense- they were different. But was it really so bad to want to change who you were if it meant a life of peace and safety?

Kai just didn’t know anymore. He was tired of being the one who had to decide. He missed when they were younger, and Borg had made all the decisions for them.

Not that he wanted Borg to be in charge of them anymore- but the sentiment still stood.

But life had a way of being against them.

Wishes weren’t going to fix anything.

---

When the scheduled day for Lloyd’s venture into the town rolled around, the circumstances hadn’t improved much. They had originally planned for him and Nya to accompany Lloyd- a decision he was regretting now, with the tension still between them. He almost considered asking one of the others to take his place, but decided against it. He wanted to be there with Lloyd- he had been the one who had spent all the time training him, after all. And he didn’t dare ask Nya to change her mind about going- she would probably argue just for the sake of it, and it wasn’t worth the confrontation right now. Things were already bad enough as it was.

As they wrapped Lloyd up in his winter gear, he complied much more easily than usual, and three of them set out quietly.

“Where are we gonna go?” Kai asked Nya as they approached the bus stop.

“I was thinking we could go downtown, more towards where the little shops are. The people there are pretty nice, and it’s usually bustling, so it’ll be easy to blend in with the crowds.”

“How many stops down is that,” he frowned, fingering through the bills in his wallet.

Nya watched him anxiously. “Not too far. We can walk, if that’s better.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you-” “I told you, it’s fine!” Nya jerked her gaze away sharply. “Excuse me for trying to be considerate, then.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. It’s too cold to walk.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to be caring or not.”

Kai growled. “Me neither.”

Lloyd squirmed by their feet, and Nya sighed. “Can we not do this, now?” She pointed down the street, to where the bus was rolling up. “The bus is here, anyway.”

Kai told the bus driver where they wanted to go, slipping him the proper payment, and the three of them piled on, taking a spot near the back, even though the bus was mostly empty. Kai knew, from his previous trips, that it would get more crowded the closer they got to town, and sitting in the back meant not many people would be looking at them.

Lloyd stared out the window for most of the ride, his wide eyes taking in the landscape rolling past. Kai watched too, and as the bus drove them deeper into the city, he saw the shining buildings, with trees and patches of greenery dispersed in between them. With winter arriving, most of the trees were skeletal, but some still had a spattering of leaves, coming in bright golds, soft reds, and blazing oranges. It wasn’t something Kai got to see often in his lifetime, in person, at least. The changing of the fall leaves was a very finicky and brief time of the year in Ninjago City, and he had been lucky if one of his outside visits fell during this time.

Deeper into the city, the buildings thickened, rows of homes filing in orderly lines. Blues, olives, tans, grays, whites- each one had its own unique charm, but they all felt like they belonged.

One house in particular caught his eye, though- one that stood out from all the rest. Its walls were a bright red, and the lawn was wildly overgrown. Too many chairs were crammed onto the small porch, paint chipping on the door. It was an eyesore compared to the rest of the neighborhood.

Being too unique was problematic, he supposed.

By now, they were getting into the thick of the city. Beautiful buildings soared above them, colorful graffiti decorated walls and bridges. Most noticeable of all, however, were the people. A father with his daughter sitting on his shoulders, an elderly couple each holding a hand of their grandson as they swung him between them. A young couple walking down the street, chatting, with their hands casually intertwined, a group of teenage boys, laughing and racing each other down the street on their skateboards.

Everyone had one thing in common- they looked happy, content, at peace.

Kai hoped they appreciated what they had.

For the first time since they had boarded the bus, he glanced over at Nya. She was staring out the window too, but her gaze wasn’t directed at the scenery beyond, like his, but instead at Lloyd’s reflection in the glass.

The bus screeched to a halt, arriving at their stop, and the three of them hopped out, thanking the driver.

Walking down the street, they found themselves in a charming little section of town, the shops modest but plentiful. Nya was right, there was plenty of activity to help hide them. All the footsteps and voices around him swamped Kai’s ears, and he shook his head, trying to press them flatter against his head. This was only a milder section of the city, he was going to have to get used to all the sounds of the urban environment if they were going to adapt to this place.

Kai wondered how Lloyd would be affected by the environment- the young boy had proven himself to have a strong sense of hearing as well, and had never been a fan of being swarmed.

But either Lloyd’s hat was muffling his senses, or he was simply too enamored by the shops to care. With every shop they went in- from t-shirts, to souvenirs, antiques, jewelry, fabrics, and a bakery, Lloyd always seemed to find some little shiny trinket or another. They couldn’t buy him much, but Lloyd seemed perfectly content with just looking, already moving onto the next object of interest within a minute or two, anyway.

They did actually make a purchase at the confectionary, though, letting Lloyd pick out a piece of candy. He had gone with a rainbow lollipop, a purchase Kai was pleased with, because it would actually last him a while, giving him and Nya time to pick up a few more essentials before heading back to the warehouse.

Emphasis on few.

“We don’t really need the new jacket, I know we have a needle and thread I can use to patch it up on my own.”

“Yeah, well what about all those protein bars, do you really need all those?” Kai asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“They’re a good source of nutrients!” “Yeah, and they’re expensive. There’s gotta be a generic brand one you can get for cheaper.”

“These are the only ones I can get Lloyd to eat.”

“Well, he’s going to have to learn to adapt to our budget-”

“Buy them with this!” Lloyd purred, slipping a stack of bills into his hand.

Kai and Nya froze, slowly turning to look at him.

“Lloyd,” he asked slowly, “where did you get this?”

“I found it.”

No duh, Kai bit back. “Found it where?”

“Someone left it. At the store.”

“Lloyd!” Nya cried, sounding close to hysterics. “You can’t just take people’s money! You can’t take any of people’s things without permission. That’s stealing!” “They left it there,” Lloyd grumbled, kicking his foot. “I thought they were done with it. They should be more careful with their things. I’m careful with my things.”

Kai snorted a laugh, and Nya stared at him incredulously. “You can’t seriously think this is funny? He stole!”

“Oh, come on, Nya, he didn’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s still a crime.”

“He’s four!” “Doesn’t mean you should encourage him.”

“I wasn’t. In case you’re forgetting, he was the one who took it, not me.”

“But you don’t care.”

“I never said that!” “I’m your sister, I can tell.”

“Alright, alright, so maybe I wouldn’t mind a little extra cash. So what? We need it. Probably more than whoever was foolish enough to lose this.” “Kai! I can’t believe you!” “What? It’s not like we even know where to take it! Lloyd,” he turned to the boy, his voice sharp. “Where did you find the money? Which store?”

Lloyd was looking significantly less cheerful now, his eyes wary as he took a step back from them. “I dunno. Can’t remember.”

“See?” Kai snapped at Nya. “We couldn’t return it if we wanted to!” “So you’re just going to pocket it?”

“Where else would you have me take it? Like I told you, we need it more than the rich, privileged people around here.” Blood was roaring in Kai’s ears now, his breath coming in heavy pants. Why was there so much noise buzzing in his ears? There were people, so many people, and all that noise, mixing with his frustration, was making his heart slam against his chest in a dizzying rage.

“Just because they have more than us doesn’t make it right.”

“It makes it understandable.”

“I can’t believe we’re back to this again!”

“Back to what?”

“You’re trying to change Lloyd’s behavior again! I told you it would escalate- in only a few days, you’ve gone from having him hide his goofball side, to make him think stealing is okay, just because we’re in a rough patch!”

“You think I want to do this? I know it’s wrong! But sometimes an opportunity presents itself, and you gotta do what you gotta do.”

“We can’t just throw our values and everything about ourselves out the window just because things are difficult right now, Kai.”

“We haven’t really been given much choice, have we? In another week or two, we’ll have gone completely bankrupt, then what are we gonna do, huh?”

Nya paused for a moment, her breath hitching. “We’ll… we’ll figure something out. But this isn’t the answer.”

“Oh yeah? Let me know when you find one.” Turning away from her, he slipped the cash into his pocket. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was starting to feel lightheaded, now. He needed to end this.

“Kai, please, the last thing we need is another charge on our backs.”

“Going back to the shop to return this- even if we knew which shop to go to- would only put more suspicion on our backs. If we keep it, no one will probably ever even notice it’s missing.”

“But they could have security footage-” Nya stopped dead, the color draining from her cheeks.

“What?”

“Where’s Lloyd?”

---

Lloyd was running.

Ducking and weaving between the people roaming the streets, he tried his best to avoid running into them, but once or twice, his hand brushed against them, and he flinched away, hating the way the unfamiliar touch felt on his skin.

There were too many people here. He hated this feeling, being crowded around on all sides, like he couldn’t breathe. He just wanted to get out of here.

That was pretty impossible, though, when he had no idea where he was.

He shouldn’t have run off. Kai and Nya were going to be furious.

But… he just hadn’t been able to take it anymore.

He had been so happy when he had first brought them the money. He had thought he was helping, and that now they would be able to get more stuff and stop looking so worried all the time. But it had only made them start fighting again. Their raised voices had rung loud in his ears, too loud, and their smoldering gazes had scared him. That hadn’t been Kai and Nya- the big siblings he knew and loved. That had been something different, something Lloyd didn’t like one bit.

He hated it, every time they fought- every time the ugly side of them came out. But this time had been so much worse, because this time it was his fault, it had been him who messed things up by taking something he wasn’t supposed to.

He had just wanted to make them proud.

But maybe they would be better off without him.

He just wanted things to be the way they used to be, back when no one had fought or yelled at each other, when everyone had been happy, hanging out in their fun little room, giving him badger rides and letting him pick whatever movie he wanted.

But that had also been the time when he had spent his nights locked up alone, when strange people in long coats and scary masks would poke and prod him, and he wanted nothing more but to see his family again, but Dr. Borg wouldn’t let him.

But that was the way things had always been, hadn’t they? There was no perfect world.

At least not for monsters, like Lloyd.

Lloyd stumbled, his head reeling. All these thoughts were a little too much to take in.

Glancing around, he spotted an alleyway leading off of the streets. The perfect opportunity to get away from all the noises and people and clear his head.

Nearly crying in relief, he slipped into the comfort of the darkness.

---

“He was just here!” “Oh no, he must’ve run off again! You know how upset he gets when we fight!”

“Shit,” Kai muttered, his bubbling anger quickly giving way to panic. “He must’ve gone to look for somewhere to hide.”

“Dammit, he could be anywhere by now,” Nya whimpered, pressing her fingers to her temples. “This is all our fault!”

His frustration with her dying, Kai put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him. He can’t have gotten far, I should be able to pick up his scent.”

Nya glanced around, surveying their surroundings. “Just try to be subtle about it. There are a lot of people here.”

It was harder to track Lloyd’s scent without getting down to the ground, and the many other crisscrossing scents in the area added to the complexity, but, luckily for them, Lloyd’s oni and dragon blood made for a distinctive tang that Kai was able to pick up on after only a minute, despite all the distractions.

They followed the trail for a few minutes, Nya hovering behind him anxiously as he went. After a while, Kai was starting to get worried he had somehow made a mistake, when they reached a busy market street.

Shaking his head, he pushed his way into the throng.

Immediately, he was overwhelmed with at least a dozen more scents, and he lost Lloyd’s for a moment. Desperately trying to pick it up again, Kai felt like he was floundering, all the scents and sounds making him stumble.

Nya grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… fine, it’s just… there’s a lot of people here.” He put a hand on his head. “It’s a lot.”

“Can you still smell Lloyd?”

“I don’t know.”

Nya turned to a shopping bag she was holding, rummaging through it until she found what she was looking for and pulled it out. Popping the cap, she handed him the bottle of water. “Here. This might help.”

Downing a few sips of the cold, fresh, liquid, Kai felt his heart rate slow slightly, the fog in his brain dissipating a bit. “Thanks, Nya.”

Turning back to his surroundings, he searched for Lloyd’s scent again. This time, he caught it rather quickly, and the two of them hurried down the street a little ways, until it led to a dark alleyway.

Kai slowed his pace, his steps wary. “Lloyd? Are you here?”

There was silence, for a moment, then a soft whimper replied him. Kai froze. “Lloyd?”

Nya pushed in front of him, and Kai caught sight of his sister’s pupils dilating to her night vision.

“See anything?”

Nya didn’t respond, and Kai blinked rapidly, urging his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. When he could finally see better, he looked over at her. Nya was standing frozen, her face white, as she stared down the alley.

Kai followed her gaze, and promptly felt his stomach lurch.

Although he couldn’t see nearly as well as Nya in the dark setting, it was well enough to identify the figure curled up in the back of the alley as Lloyd, pale and quivering as he grimaced at his leg, stretched out at an ugly looking angle, all twisted and bloody.

“Lloyd!” Nya screamed, running towards him as Kai gagged, trying hard not to puke at the scene. He tried to shake action back into his limbs, beginning to follow Nya where she was crouched over at Lloyd’s side, crying softly-

Kai froze, scenting the air. The overwhelming reek of blood and pain filled his nose, and he was still left muddled from the chaos of the busy market a moment ago, but…

Over all of that, he swore he could smell something else, something that seemed important.

“Nya, do you… do you smell that?”

“What?” Nya choked, wiping at her eyes. “Kai, he’s… it’s bad, come help me!” Kai was about to abandon the mysterious scent, when all of a sudden, it clicked.

Cold dread trickled down his spine. “Nya, look out, it’s-”

His words were cut off as something slammed against him, sending him to the ground, winded. Nets were thrown over him, and he felt strong yanks on his arms and legs as sharp rope dug into his wrists and ankles.

Blinding panic crashed through him as the full implication of what was happening hit him. No, no no, he couldn’t get captured, he couldn’t be brought back there, Lloyd couldn’t be brought back there, they would-

Kai threw back his head and roared as loudly as he could, hoping that someone, anyone would hear and come save him-

Sharp metal clashed against his jaw, sending spikes of agony through him as something was wrestled around his head. He tried to cry out again, but realized that he couldn’t move his mouth anymore, the metal device jamming it shut.

He could hear Nya’s screams from somewhere behind him, which abruptly cut off as she met his same fate. Muzzles, he realized with horror, the image of Lloyd, chained in that little room on that day they had first escaped flashing through his head.

Borg had found them. And now they were going to pay.

#ninjago #NinjagoInhumanAuWeek #For the Romping and the Roaring #R&R #Part 2 #woooo cliffhangers hope ya like those #not that you have to wait long for the next part #but i thought i was being clever #XD #rosie writes #my fic

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

laughter/joy

Written for Day 1 of @aangweek! Read here on AO3.

~*~

1. laughter/joy - after the fire, new maps are drawn / nothing to cry for, new dreams are born / out of the ruins, flowers will grow / people rebuilding, stone by stone

Aang had been… unusually silent during their first few hours at the temple. Well, maybe ‘unusual’ wasn’t the right word. A heavier gravity to him was to be expected, seeing as the official reconstruction of the Southern Air Temple was set to begin in upcoming weeks. Which meant their group of friends was currently working together to create basic blueprints of different areas. Katara would never have demanded Aang be his normal, talkative self as he combed through the ruins of his home, because spirits was that an unfair standard to hold him to.

Still. That didn’t mean she couldn’t worry.

But how could they cheer him up? Katara didn’t want to make light of the turmoil she was certain he was going through, and yet she also just - she wanted to comfort Aang. See him smile or hear him laugh at least once while they were here. Katara couldn’t bear to watch the invisible load weigh heavier and heavier on his shoulders any longer.

At the moment, they were all mapping out the weakest parts of the temple, since reconstruction would have to begin with those more fragile areas. Toph and Zuko were one group, so Toph could sense the areas of unsteady infrastructure with her earthbending and Zuko could draw it out. Aang had gone with Suki, as he could reference his memory to compare what had changed from the past to the present while Suki marked down the most significant alterations.

Which had left Katara with her brother. For obvious reasons, Sokka would be the one examining the rubble while she would be the one mapping it out.

The work was long and tedious, though it was more painful than it was boring. While a formal ceremony had been provided for the Air Nomads a few weeks earlier at Aang’s request - a way to send their spirits off in the traditional Nomadic manner - every now and then a slab of concrete would be displaced and reveal a set of charred bones. Which only made Katara worry about Aang more. If it was nauseating for her to witness, she couldn’t imagine what the experience was like for him.

“We need to do something for Aang today,” Katara said when they’d all stopped for lunch. Aang had momentarily left to investigate a particular room in the temple, so she’d seized the initiative to launch a let’s-cheer-Aang-up plan. Their group sat in a circle on a small striped blanket, Appa stretched out comfortably behind them. “I - I don’t know what, but there has to be something we can do to help him feel more like himself.”

Suki nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. He seemed so…” She pursed her lips. “I don’t know how to describe it. He wants to restore the temples, and it’s clear he’s happy to finally start, but…” She shook her head. “It’s just hard for him, I think.”

“He barely said a word the whole time we were eating,” Toph pointed out. “I mean, he didn’t even jump in when we started making fun of Zuko.”

Zuko rolled his eyes as everyone snickered. “Normally I’d be offended, but I noticed how quiet he was, too. That’s… unlike him.”

“Okay, so we’ve agreed we need to do something,” Sokka said, crossing his arms over his chest, “which means now we have to figure out what that ‘something’ is in the two minutes we have before Aang gets back.”

Katara grimaced. Her brother made a good point, disheartening as it was to admit. They needed to work fast. “Everyone. Start throwing out ideas!” Even a terrible suggestion was better than none at all.

“Er, we could make fruit pies for him?” Zuko offered, brow furrowing in contemplation.

Katara shook her head. “Not a bad idea, but it would take way too much time. Anything else?”

“Someone could play airball with him,” Suki suggested. “Didn’t you and Sokka do that the first time you visited the temple?”

Katara made a so-so gesture with her right hand. “Sokka did, yes, but I don’t know if it’s worth the risk of him mentally reliving everything about our first visit here.” She hesitated, returning her hand to her lap. “He… found Gyatso’s skeleton that day, too.”

Suki’s eyes widened. “Oh. Understood.”

“Guys!” Toph hissed, her palms flat on the ground. “He’s coming back!”

Katara cursed under her breath. They’d just have to suck it up and put something together for Aang later -

“Wait!” Sokka exclaimed. “I’ve got an idea!”

“Save it for later, Snoozles!” Toph whispered, but Sokka shook his head.

“Trust me! Just follow my lead.”

Katara resisted the urge to drag her palm down the side of her face. Great. Sokka’s ideas more often than not ended in utter disaster. Tui and La, she was begging for this to be the exception.

As Aang returned to their impromptu picnic area, Sokka jumped to his feet to greet him.

“Aang,” he said sternly, placing a hand on his hip, “I am very disappointed in you.” He gestured to the rest of them still sitting on the ground. “In fact, we are all disappointed in you.”

Aang blinked, taken aback. “You - what? Why?”

“Because.” Sokka shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “How could you not tell us that it was Appa’s birthday?!”

Aang stared at Sokka in total confusion, and Katara didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course her brother would come up with something that toed the line of believable and improbable.

“It’s… what?” Aang finally said.

“Appa’s birthday!” Sokka repeated. “C’mon, Aang. Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?”

Katara decided to throw her brother a line. Admittedly, he wasn’t floundering just yet, but she didn’t want to leave him treading water alone. No one could ever say she wasn’t a merciful person. “We had to find out from Appa himself!” she said, standing to move next to the sky bison. She scratched Appa’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, Appa?”

Please play along. Please play along.

Appa gave her a dubious side-eye before roaring, and Aang’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t know you knew your own birthday, buddy!” he exclaimed, airbending over their picnic area to land beside Appa. The breeze blew Katara’s hair back. “I’m sorry!” He gave the sky bison a tight hug. “How can I make it up to you?”

“He, uh, he actually already told us how he wants to celebrate,” Zuko stammered. “He thinks… He thinks we should…”

“Braid flowers in his fur!” Suki finished, and Zuko’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Like - Like when you guys first met those nomads in the… Earth Kingdom, right?”

“Yes, exactly,” Katara confirmed with an aggressive nod. Tui and La, she prayed they weren’t coming off as too emphatic. “And he told us we can - we can make flower crowns for each other, too!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Katara could see Toph pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. She couldn’t blame her friend for such a response.

For a moment, Aang didn’t speak, and Katara was terrified their ridiculous ploy would crumble to pieces.

Then he shrugged. “I like flower crowns.”

Katara was barely able to contain her sigh of relief, and she knew her shoulders had visibly dropped at his words. Ah, well. If Aang was suspicious of their rambling, at least he’d decided not to press the issue.

They spent the next half hour collecting flowers from around the Southern Air Temple. There were more than Katara had expected, especially considering the high altitude. She nearly cried tears of joy to see Aang passing through his home with a gentle warmth to his eyes rather than the previous quiet sadness. When they all began braiding Appa’s fur and weaving a rainbow of flowers into them, Aang smiled, too, complimenting his bison about how stylish he’d look when they were done.

There was nothing more beautiful than Aang’s smile.

It didn’t take long for their group to begin reminiscing about different memories with Appa. In honor of his “birthday,” after all.

Toph talked about how the very first time she’d flown on Appa, she’d been certain death was a more pleasurable experience. Suki recounted the story of when she’d found Appa and nursed him back to health, which prompted Zuko to tell the tale of his own Appa rescue mission.

Aang pulled them both into a tight hug before braiding strings of flowers in their hair, too.

Sokka was the one who brought up the cave of two lovers and his experiences of being trapped with the nomads, and Katara couldn’t resist the urge to tease Aang about his ever-so-romantic I’d rather kiss you than die! compliment. That particular story earned laughter from all, Aang included, who made a teasing remark about how clearly it worked before pressing a kiss to the tip of Katara’s nose. She dropped a pink flower crown on his head as he pulled away.

Joy was in the little things, Katara knew. And sometimes, joy was in the things that hurt, that ached, like the ruins of a once-beautiful air temple.

No. It was still beautiful. Because they were here, breathing life into death. Because out of these ruins, flowers were growing. Because out of loss, joy could bloom, too.

Aang laughed at some offhand comment from Sokka, and Katara smiled.

It was their favorite sound.

~*~

honestly this is my least favorite ficlet of what i've written for each day lmfao. but that does mean we can only go up from here! see you tomorrow for day 2 - family/gyatso :)

#aang #aang week #atla #avatar the last airbender #katara #sokka #zuko #toph beifong #suki #appa #atla fanfic #atla fanfiction #amy writes #the gaang #aanglove

[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 13

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Look what’s back again!  I’ve got another three chapters written now, so that’s approximately three weeks’ worth of content coming along (provided I remember to post!)  Sorry for the delay on this one, TOS!Scott and TOS!Virgil decided to be rather tricksy, but I finally got them wrangled!

<<<Chapter 12

Other-Virgil was just leaving his room as they turned the corner, a sketchbook in hand.

“Oh, hello there,” he said.  Scott didn’t miss how his eyes flicked to his brother for a moment.  “Successful trip?”

Scott shrugged, spreading his arms slightly to show that he wasn’t wearing Other-Scott’s clothes any more.  “Successful enough,” he said.  “There’s more on order, but we managed to find some things to bring back with us now.”

Brown eyes, painfully familiar and just like Virgil’s, glanced over his outfit.  He didn’t comment, but it was obvious that like Other-Scott, Other-Virgil found his idea of casual clothes to be different.

Well, at least it meant no-one was going to be muddling them up any time soon.

“That’s good to hear,” the man said, glancing towards his brother again. Scott glanced across as well, wondering if Other-Scott was sending him any cues.  His doppelgänger seemed quite content to stay out of the conversation, although he likewise wasn’t leaving them to it and carrying on to the games room without Scott.  “Tin-Tin said I should talk to you,” Other-Virgil continued.  “She said something about appearances?”

His voice raised questioningly at the end and Scott recalled Other-Gordon making a similar suggestion back while the others had been out on the rescue.

“Appearances?” Other-Scott asked.  “What does she mean by that?”

Scott sighed, realising that he hadn’t mentioned to the others about the different appearances yet, and rubbed his face with one hand.

“My brothers don’t look like yours,” he explained.  “Not as much as we look alike, anyway.”

“They don’t?” Other-Scott asked.  “That’s strange.”

“Tell me about it,” Scott agreed.  “Gordon – your Gordon – suggested I talk to you about it,” he continued, nodding at Other-Virgil.  “I guess Tin-Tin got there first.”

“Not ‘our’ Tin-Tin?” Other-Scott jumped in.  “You differentiate the fellas, but not her?”

Scott shrugged.  “I don’t call mine ‘Tin-Tin’,” he explained.  “We call mine Kayo.”

“Kayo?” Other-Virgil asked.  “That’s a mighty strange name.”

“You’d think her a strange woman,” Scott replied.  “I wouldn’t say she’s nothing like Tin-Tin, but the similarities are a lot more subtle than between you guys and my brothers.”

“Interesting,” Other-Scott commented.  “You’ll have to tell us about her.”

Scott chuckled, remembering Tin-Tin’s reaction to his attempts at describing his sister.  The men were likely to be even more horrified.  “At some point.”  He turned back to Other-Virgil.  “So, did you want to do this now?”

“Whenever works for you,” Other-Virgil said.  “If you’re busy with Scott now, we can do it later.”

“He was just coming to watch me remind Gordon which one of us is the billiards champion,” Other-Scott said.  “You’re welcome to join us if it won’t disturb your concentration.”

“I think I can draw with you two in the room.” Other-Virgil rolled his eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time, if that’s okay with Scott?”

He found himself pinned with both blue and brown eyes and wondered if this was how Gordon and Alan felt when they were on the receiving end of him and Virgil. “Sounds good,” he agreed.  The idea of staying in the vicinity of Other-Gordon for a while longer, as he found his feet properly with the rest of this universe’s Tracy brothers, was a comforting one now that the younger man had fully proven himself on their semi-disaster of a shopping trip.  He wondered if Other-Scott suspected that – whether or not he did likely depended on what, exactly, Other-Gordon had told him down in the hangar.

“Come on, then,” Other-Scott said, leading the way along the hallways – Scott once again finding himself passing the door to the lounge and hoping Not-Dad wasn’t going to appear – and down the stairs.  “Laundry room’s here,” he said, pausing and sliding open a door.  “You can just put them in here and Kyrano or Grandma will deal with them.”

Scott padded into the room, glancing around at the contraptions that had to be washing machines, although just like everything else, they didn’t look much like the technology Scott was used to.  What was at least somewhat familiar was the splash of blue in an open wicker basket – while not identical to his own uniform, it was clearly this universe’s IR blue.  It was also smeared with dirt and clearly waiting to be washed, so he dropped Other-Scott’s borrowed clothes on top, fighting the inquisitive desire to get a closer look at the uniform.

Making sure that this universe’s International Rescue knew what they were looking for if any of his brothers had somehow also fallen through trumped his own curiosity and he retreated back into the hallway where Other-Scott and Other-Virgil were waiting for him, before they all entered the games room.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Other-Gordon commented as the door slid open.  He had his back to them and seemed to be poking around with the balls.  “What took you so long?”

“I thought we’d like an audience,” Other-Scott shrugged, and Other-Gordon spun around.

“What did you do to prompt all this?” Other-Virgil asked him.  “You’ve not even been on the island for several hours.”

“Precisely,” Other-Scott said, striding forwards and selecting a cue from the wall, which he inspected carefully.  “Gordon, off the island for several hours and more or less unsupervised.”

“Not entirely unsupervised,” Other-Gordon protested, as Other-Virgil moved further into the room and settled in a chair by the chess set.  Taking the cue, Scott followed and sat himself in the other.  “If we didn’t already have Brains and John’s word that he’s you from another universe, I’d be suggesting it myself after that trip.”

Scott thought that was a bit of an exaggeration, considering how off-centre he’d been the entire time, but he appreciated the words regardless.

“Another me or not, that didn’t stop you telling the world you could – and did – beat me at billiards,” Other-Scott pointed out.  Other-Virgil choked back a laugh that showed just how unlikely that scenario was in reality.

Other-Gordon seemed entirely unrepentant about that, which didn’t surprise Scott in the slightest.  “We can always make that true now,” he said.  “Ready to play?”

In answer, Other-Scott headed for the table and scrutinised the balls his brother had been poking at.  Scott suspected he was checking for sabotage.

Other-Virgil rested his sketchbook on the table, drawing Scott’s attention away from the billiards table and towards the blank paper.

“How about age order?” the brown-haired man suggested. “Should we start with John?”

“Might as well,” Scott agreed, staring at the blank page and trying to find the words to explain just how his John differed from Other-John.  Without another word, Other-Virgil started to sketch. Scott blinked, not expecting him to begin before he’d started describing his brother, but it didn’t take long for him to realise that it was a sketch of Other-John that was forming on the paper, rough and ready to be amended.

Watching him was oddly relaxing – Scott had never been an artist himself, but he had memories of watching both parents and Virgil sketching throughout his life.  The sight and sound of graphite over artist’s paper was familiar, homey, and Scott propped his head on his palm and tried to focus more on what was being drawn than the emotions it was drawing up.

The background clack of ball hitting ball, and smug brotherly noises as Other-Scott presumably made good on his promise to teach Other-Gordon a lesson, helped him keep his mind in the present.  He glanced away from the rough sketch of Other-John to see Other-Scott grinning triumphantly at Other-Gordon as the two brothers set up a new game.  One victory for Other-Scott, it seemed.

“I thought it would be easier to start with a base,” Other-Virgil said suddenly, snapping Scott’s attention back to the now-complete sketch.  “Tin-Tin’s recounts of your descriptions suggest you’re just as bad as our Scott in that regard.”

“I have you for anything to do with art!” Other-Scott called over, and Scott grinned ruefully in agreement.

“He’s not wrong,” he shrugged.

Other-Virgil shook his head, and tapped the paper with a finger.  “We’ll get to colour later,” he said, “but what changes do I need to make to the sketch?”  He spun it around until Scott was looking at the sketch the right way up, and he squinted at it.

It was clearly John, but at the same time not.  The challenge was picking out what made it different to his brother, exactly.

“What do you mean, colour?” Other-Scott called across.

“I thought you were teaching Gordon a lesson?” Other-Virgil retorted.  “Keep getting distracted and he might be the one teaching you a lesson.”

Other-Scott chuckled, and then there was another clack as they started playing again.

“John’s… younger,” Scott settled on.  “Slightly less angular, maybe?”

Other-Virgil whisked the paper back around to face him and started changing lines. “How old?”

“Twenty-five,” Scott said, watching as the sharpest edges to the sketch were smoothed out slightly.  It was a good thing Other-Virgil, just like Virgil, was so artistically adept, because Scott knew his descriptions left a lot to be desired.  He really wasn’t an artist.

It was a long process, as Scott frowned at lines and Other-Virgil redrew and redrew them again.  He knew exactly what his immediate brother looked like, of course, but descriptions had never been his strong point.  Thankfully, Other-Virgil was patient and seemed to have expected Scott to be pretty terrible at them.

In the background, the clacking of balls hitting balls continued, complete with commentary and occasional brotherly snipes.  Scott wasn’t sure how many times they’d played by the time Other-Virgil finished his latest redraw of a line of John’s hair, and a lump formed suddenly in his throat.

“That’s him,” he said around it, trying to swallow it down before any of the other men in the room noticed.  “That’s John.”  Still in the grey and white of a sketch, his genius of a brother stared out of the paper at something in the distance, intent and determined.  It was a painfully familiar expression, one Scott saw most often on rescues, when his brother was amassing more data even as he talked him through what he already had.

A hand slammed down to cover the sketch and Scott blinked.

“Gee, really, Virg?” Other-Gordon quibbled from where he’d suddenly materialised right next to Scott.  Next to him, and peering over Other-Virgil’s shoulder, was Other-Scott.

“You fellas can see it once it’s coloured,” the artist said firmly.  “And not one moment before.  Go back to your game.”

Both brothers grumbled good-naturedly, but did as they were told and retreated back to the billiards table.  Other-Virgil pulled his hand back and looked up at him.

“I don’t have my colours here, so what do you say about doing all the sketches now, and then we’ll go to my room to sort out colours later?” he suggested.

Once again caught by the sketch of his brother, fiercely determined and no doubt wearing that exact face right now, wherever he was, Scott just nodded numbly.

It was gently tugged out of sight as Other-Virgil turned to a fresh page in his sketchbook and started drawing again.  This time, Scott was anticipating the appearance of Other-Virgil in graphite so it wasn’t a surprise when he formed out of lines of graphite on paper. The artist was clearly used to self-portraiture as the sketch was just as flawless as Other-John’s had been; it was almost a shame that he’d have to completely alter the hairstyle this time – Other-John’s wasn’t all too dissimilar to John’s, but the two Virgils appeared to have markedly different ideas on hairstyle.

Even before the sketch was presented to him, Scott reached across and tapped the brow.  “Same scar,” he said, noticing that Other-Virgil hadn’t bothered to add that in, presumably because he hadn’t expected something like a scar to carry across universes. It was a fair assumption, especially as Other-Gordon had already made an observation about how his own scars differed from Other-Scott’s, but in this particular case a wrong one.  Scott wondered if, like the hydrofoil, the cause was also the same.

Other-Virgil’s eyebrows raised, showing off his scar particularly well, but he dutifully added it in.

“Also younger?” he asked, and Scott eyed the paper critically.  The sketch was spun around so he could see it better, and he nodded his thanks.

“Twenty-three,” he confirmed.  “But don’t soften the cheekbones much.”  Other-Virgil made a noise of comprehension and took the paper back to begin the long process of amending it to Scott’s awkward specifications.  “And you might as well scrap the hair entirely,” he added.  Other-Virgil paused and gave him an incredulous look.

“There’s no similarity there at all?” he asked.  Scott shrugged and peered again.

“Maybe the hairline,” he allowed.  “But completely different hairstyle.”

He got a contemplative noise for that, but Other-Virgil dutifully erased most of the hair, leaving just enough to keep the head shape obvious, before following Scott’s instructions to amend the face shape until he was happy it was his Virgil, and not Other-Virgil looking out of the paper.

“However does he keep his hair like that?” Other-Virgil commented when they finally reached the hairstyle, the sweeping peak taking shape on the paper after several amendments as Scott tried to get it just right.

“By stealing my hair gel,” he replied dryly, “and short circuiting the entire island’s power with his hairdryer.”  Gordon was not the only one who remembered that incident well, even if Scott usually refrained from mentioning it – it wasn’t like he needed to, what with the squid bringing it up at every opportunity.  One day Virgil was going to make minced squid out of their brother, and it was probably going to have something to do with that incident. Probably.

Other-Scott chuckled, proving that he was still eavesdropping even as he continued to thrash Other-Gordon at billiards.  The younger man sounded like he was getting quite tired of being defeated, although he hadn’t yet begged off entirely.  Then again, Scott suspected Other-Scott wasn’t the only one using the game as a pretence in order to listen in.

Other-Virgil ignored them as he once again redid a line in Virgil’s hair, and Scott did likewise, although in his case it was mostly because Other-Virgil had once again taken his breath away with a likeness of one of his brothers. Unlike John, Virgil was looking straight at him, greyscale eyes still warm and the slightest bit concerned, mirrored in the set of his jaws.  It was another painfully familiar expression that Scott had found himself on the receiving end of many times.

“That’s him,” he said after a moment, once his lungs remembered what to do. Other-Virgil hummed and flicked the page over before the other two could make it over.

“Aww,” Other-Gordon protested when he realised.  “Not even one peek, Virg?”

“Once they’re coloured,” his brother said firmly, “and not one moment before.”

“But it’s his version of me next, right?” Other-Gordon whined.  “You gotta let me see that one, Virg!”

“Once they’re coloured,” Other-Virgil repeated.  “If it’s too much of a trial for you, I’m sure you can leave. Aren’t you tired of losing yet?”

Other-Scott laughed again from where he seemed to be setting up another game. “He still thinks he can beat me if we play enough times.”

“I will beat you,” Other-Gordon vowed, heading over to the table again.  “My turn to start.”

Other-Virgil rolled his eyes once the ginger had his back to them.  “Say, how about we skip Gordon and come back to him later?” he suggested, a gleam in his eyes that was all-too familiar.

“Virg!” came the complaint from the brother in question, and despite himself, Scott found himself grinning just a little, even if the familiarity of the banter ached.

“We can do Alan next,” he agreed, although something heavy and unpleasant settled in his stomach as he realised he wouldn’t be able to dodge just how young his Alan was for much longer.

Despite the words, it was still Other-Gordon that appeared from Other-Virgil’s pencil, and the artist grinned at him conspiratorially.  Scott returned it, although he was fairly sure it was weaker than it would normally be.  Other-Virgil didn’t comment, or even raise a concerned eyebrow, however, so he assumed he’d got away with it.

“Younger again?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott nodded.  “Squarer jaw, but don’t soften the face,” he said.  “He’s all angles.”  Sharp cheekbones, sharp jaw, sharp wit.  There was a lot of sharpness with Gordon, although like all of them he was soft where it counted.  Squinting at the sketch as Other-Virgil made the amendments, Scott realised that while their eye colour was identical, one of the biggest differences to their faces was in fact the eye shape.

As with everything else, describing that was difficult, and Other-Virgil had to erase the same lines over and over again as between them, they tried to get it right.  Then, of course, it was the hair, and it was quickly apparent that Gordon – and Alan, when they got there – had a hairstyle that Other-Virgil struggled to even conceptualise in his head.  In this universe, it seemed that bangs always flopped down, not out.

“More hair gel?” the man asked, resigned, as he erased the lines of Gordon’s bangs for the umpteenth time.

“More hair gel,” Scott confirmed.  “The other one is similar, by the way.”

“I will get this,” Other-Virgil said, low and determined.  The stubbornness was just as familiar as everything else about his mannerisms.  So far, Scott was getting the impression that while he might be a little quieter than Virgil, Other-Virgil was otherwise almost the same in temperament.

“His Alan giving you trouble?” Other-Gordon called across.  Other-Virgil ignored him as, with a set jaw, he once again amended his lines.

“Almost,” Scott encouraged.  “That’s close.”

“I’m not settling for ‘close’,” Other-Virgil told him firmly.  “What’s still wrong?”

Scott surveyed the art critically, before pointing at a line.  “Here,” he said.  “Maybe loosen it up a little?”

Other-Virgil erased it and drew it again, and Scott found a familiar, fond smile creep onto his face.  “That’s him.”

Like Virgil, Gordon was looking straight out of the paper at them, full of mirth and a little cheeky, like he’d just set a prank and was waiting for someone to fall into it.  Unlike John and Virgil, who had both ended up drawn wearing expressions they’d wear on a mission, Gordon was all home comfort.

Scott decided not to think to hard about what their resulting expressions implied about his mental state.

Other-Virgil eyed it triumphantly for a moment, clearly basking in his success of finally nailing the unfamiliar hairstyle, before turning the page and starting to sketch out Other-Alan.

“Last one,” he said.  “He has a similar hairstyle to your Gordon, you say?”

“What?” Other-Gordon demanded from over by the table.  There hadn’t been any clacking of balls for some time, Scott realised, and he glanced over to see both brothers were leaning against the table, watching the pair of them from a distance.  “You mean that was your Gordon you just finished?”

Other-Virgil grinned at him.  “I’m doing his Alan now,” he said, and Other-Gordon whined dramatically. Other-Scott shifted his weight against the table slightly and rolled his eyes fondly.

“You should have known Virg would do that,” he said.  “And aren’t you the one that keeps saying Scott’s just like me?”

Other-Gordon grumbled.

“I didn’t expect that to mean he’d be able to fall in so seamlessly with one of Virgil’s schemes,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” Scott shrugged, entirely unrepentant.  Other-Gordon had spent enough time analysing him that catching him out felt a lot like a victory.  From the way amber eyes narrowed, the younger man was well aware of that.

“So,” Other-Virgil said, offering him a rough sketch of Other-Alan.  “How much younger do I need to go?”

Scott swallowed.  “Fifteen,” he said, and was entirely unsurprised when he saw Other-Scott jerk out of the corner of his eye.  “And you might want to make him a little more… smiley.”  Other-Virgil had drawn a neutral expression, which was at least less antagonistic than Scott had actually seen Other-Alan wearing so far, but for his Alan it just felt wrong.

“Younger and happier,” Other-Virgil repeated, taking the eraser to the sketch and all but redoing the entire outline.  “And with a Gordon-like hairstyle.”

What came out of his pencil the second time looked a lot closer, more like a base that Scott could make minor adjustments to than the initial sketch had done.

“He’s fifteen?” Other-Scott asked, and Scott braced himself for the upcoming explosion.  “He’s not a part of International Rescue yet, I assume.”

Scott didn’t answer him, watching Other-Virgil tidy up the sketch before pointing out a line that needed amending.

“He’s not part of International Rescue?” Other-Scott repeated after a few moments, disbelief colouring his voice.  “At fifteen?  He oughtn’t even have all the licenses by fifteen, surely?”

Scott sighed, and pointed out another line that needed changing.  “Alan’s been a fully fledged member of IR for a year,” he admitted.  “He’s got all the licenses he needs.”

“He’s what?” Other-Scott demanded.  Other-Virgil’s pencil stopped, and Scott found himself scrutinised by three pairs of eyes.  “But- how does a fourteen year old get an astronaut’s license?  You’re not telling me he’s Thunderbird Three’s primary pilot in your universe?”

“Youngest astronaut in history,” Scott said, letting the pride he always felt whenever he remembered that fact bleed into his voice and carefully keeping the accompanying panic back.  “John was primary pilot for a while, but he’s always been happiest in Thunderbird Five, and Thunderbird Five really needed a monitor.  Alan proved himself on the sims and we needed a pilot for Thunderbird Three.”

“You couldn’t do it?” Other-Scott asked.

Scott chuckled humourlessly, remembering the hollow guilt that had welled up inside whenever he’d even considered going to space without any of his brothers. That didn’t bear mentioning, however, and there was another, stricter, reason why it hadn’t been possible.  “I’m Alan’s legal guardian.  I couldn’t leave him to go off into space for days or weeks on rescues.”  Or an unknown amount of time in another universe, but he hadn’t had a choice on that front.

“So your solution was to send him off into space?” Other-Virgil asked dubiously, inadvertently cutting off what Scott suspected was about to be a too-accurate remark from Other-Gordon.  Scott shrugged.

“If he’s in orbit, it’s only a day and he’s in range of Thunderbird Five,” he said.  “If he’s leaving orbit, someone – usually me – goes with him.”

“Gee,” Other-Gordon whistled, apparently deciding to keep whatever observation he’d made to himself after all.  “Our Alan’s young enough to send out there.  I can’t imagine him piloting Thunderbird Three as a teenager.”

“He’s a natural,” Scott said, glancing down at the half-finished sketch, currently sitting somewhere between Alan and Other-Alan in appearance.  “If he couldn’t do it, I wouldn’t let him, no matter how old he was.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Other-Gordon said, emphatically enough that his brothers looked at him in surprise.  Other-Gordon didn’t acknowledge them, however, and Scott found himself under another heavy yet understanding look.  No doubt the other man was remembering their conversation in the car about limits.  “I said it before: I bet you’re just as much of a smother hen as this fella is.”  He jabbed a thumb in Other-Scott’s direction and got a lacklustre hey! of protest.  “I’m sure you do a swell job of looking after him.”

A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped a little.  It was Other-Virgil, who was looking at him in some concern.  “Do you want to take five?” the man asked, gesturing at the half-finished sketch.  Scott shook his head.

“I’m good,” he said, peering at the paper again.  Other-Gordon made an aborted noise that could well have been resigned disapproval.  “His bangs go the other way.”

“You fellas have mighty different hairstyles,” Other-Virgil muttered, but dutifully began erasing the lines before pausing to shoo away his inquisitive brothers.  “Are you done teaching Gordon a lesson already, Scott?”

“Not at all,” the older man said.  “Come on, Gordon, if you still think you can win.”

“One day,” the ginger mumbled rebelliously, before moving back to the table to set up another game.  Both his brothers laughed, and Scott found himself joining in.

Alan proved almost as difficult as Gordon to get right, with Other-Virgil again finding the hair the most complicated to get right, but a couple more games behind them later, Scott’s youngest brother was beaming out of the paper at him, wide-eyed in adoration and looking even younger than he was.  It wasn’t the best expression for supporting his case that Alan was perfectly capable of handling a rocket and the responsibilities that came along with that, but it was quintessentially Alan in its essence nonetheless.

“That’s him,” he confirmed, and Other-Virgil surveyed the sketch for several moments in silence before his brothers once again tried their luck at seeing a completed sketch.

“I told you fellas,” Other-Virgil said firmly, closing the sketchbook against their curious glances.  “Not until they’re coloured.”

“Whatever you fellas are up to will have to wait.”  Scott’s eyes snapped to the doorway, where Other-Alan was standing, arms crossed and looking just as displeased as he had in every encounter he’d had with the young man so far.  “Kyrano’s finished making dinner, so it’s time to wash up.”

“Right you are, then,” Other-Virgil said.  “I’ll get these stowed in my room and we can finish after dinner?”  He offered the suggestion as a question to Scott, who saw no reason to disagree and nodded.

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

“What are you fellas doing, anyway?” Other-Alan asked suspiciously.

“It seems that we don’t look like his brothers, even though he might as well be Scott’s twin,” Other-Gordon explained, putting his cue in the wall holder. Other-Scott did the same, before stashing the balls away as well.  “Virgil’s drawing them for us so we know what we’re looking for just in case they fell through somewhere.”

“Didn’t John say they’d come through here if anywhere?” Other-Alan pointed out, still standing in the doorway and watching as his brothers tidied up. Scott found his way to his feet and waited for them to finish.

“Yes, but this is an unprecedented event, Alan,” Other-Virgil replied, walking over to him.  Scott followed.  “John’s still got Thunderbird Five looking out for them in case he’s wrong, and we’ll all be looking out as well.  It stands to reason we should know exactly who we’re looking for.”

“Well, I suppose,” the blond said.  Other-Virgil patted him on the shoulder a couple of times.

“Well, I’m off to put this in my room,” he said.  “I’ll be down for dinner in one minute.”  Then he left, leaving Scott standing with Other-Alan by the doorway, waiting for Other-Scott and Other-Gordon to finish packing up their game.

“So, what are you going to be doing until Brains and John find a way to get you home?” Other-Alan asked him.  “Are you just going to laze about the villa?”

Scott raised an eyebrow at him.  “Not if I have any say in the matter,” he said bluntly.  “I’m not a fan of lazing around.”

Other-Gordon choked back a laugh at that, and Scott narrowed his eyes at him.

“Use your head, Al,” the ginger interjected.  “We’ve got some of the best planes in the world here; you think the fella’s going to be content keeping his feet on the ground?  He took a fancy to your Tiger Moth down in the hangars ‘til I told him Scott’s not allowed to touch it.”

“I haven’t seen a Tiger Moth in years,” Scott defended himself.

“Yeah, well, you’re not touching her either,” Other-Alan told him firmly. “No Scotts are getting their hands on that baby.”

“We hear you, Alan,” Other-Scott said.  “Now, come along, fellas.  I, for one, don’t plan on being late to one of Kyrano’s feasts.”  He pushed past them and headed into the hallway.  His brothers and Scott followed, ducking into a small washroom to clean their hands before trailing through the kitchen to where the dining table was set up.

Chapter 14>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #long way from home #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy

[smol-and-grumpy]

Light My Fire - CH16

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Fluff, NSFW

WC: 3024

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​​ <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

The next two days went by too quickly for her liking. This place is truly magical and Dean really went out of his way and made an effort on making the fake honeymoon memorable for her. 

He had taken her on a snorkeling trip and they have things lined up for the rest of their stay. There’s still so many things to do and see. She really wants to see it all, and she’s especially curious about the waterfalls.

However, they still didn’t get out of the bungalow much because they were too busy staying inside. She thinks that Dean has probably fucked her all over the place and there’s no spot or surface that they haven’t christened yet.

Dean says that she’s too hard to resist, but actually she thinks that it’s the other way around.

On their third day, Y/N wakes with Dean spooning her from behind. They didn’t draw the blinds last night and the sun’s already high in the sky. They’ve slept in like this every morning since they’ve been here. Dean has slowly got used to sleeping for so long. She thinks that he’ll have a hard time once he’s back home again. 

She stirs, and winds herself around in Dean’s grip. He is still sleeping, his lips are slightly parted. He looks peaceful and content, his freckles stand out more than they normally do on his tanned skin. She could watch him sleep for hours, but there’s a knock at the door. 

Slipping out of bed, she drapes the bathrobe over herself and opens the door to a butler delivering their breakfast. He places the big tray on their coffee table and is quick to leave again.

Y/N pours herself a cup of coffee and drinks half a cup before getting back to bed. 

Dean stirs when he feels her beside him. He squints his one eye open, and there’s a frown on his forehead, “You’re wearing too much,” His voice is raspy, full of sleep. It’s also sexy as hell.

“Well, good morning to you too,” She smirks.

“No, seriously, lose the robe,” Dean mumbles, as his hand reaches out to tug at the collar of the robe. 

She hesitantly takes it off and Dean’s closing his eyes again but he’s grinning, knowing that he’s won. Sometimes, Mr. Winchester can be a little shit, and she hates that she likes him like that. 

He quickly draws her closer to him and spoons her from behind. She can feel his swelling cock poking at her ass. His one arm drapes over her, holding her tit in his hand and he nuzzles his nose against the back of her head, “Could get used to waking up like this,” 

Y/N’s cheek always flares up when he talks like this. Sometimes, his words make it seem like what they have is real, and she doesn’t really know what to think of it. She doesn’t want to get too invested. Does not want to get her heart broken. What she does know though, is that she’s trying to enjoy this as best as she can. 

Her phone chimes with a message and she gets out of his grip to reach for it to. Dean starts to whine at the loss of her in the bed, and he makes a sound of content when she goes back into his embrace. 

She unlocks her screen, sees the message from Ruby.

 R: [picture]

R: Hope your honeymoon is fucking worth it. We’re swamped here. I have to work through this today!

 It’s a picture of Ruby’s desk covered in papers. 

 Y/N: Hey, don’t blame me. Blame the boss.

R: Ugh, I know. I’m happy for you but I also can’t wait til you guys get back. You will get back, right?

 She chuckles, which prompts Dean to ask if someone has sent her a dick pic again. “Nah, just Ruby showing me all the things she has to do today.”

“Send her a picture of things you have to do today,” Dean suggests. 

“What?”

“Me.” He chuckles, satisfied with his own joke and she can’t roll her eyes to the back of her head fast enough, “I’m serious.” He grabs the phone from her hand and holds it up, and she makes sure that her boobs are covered by the sheets. Dean snaps a couple of pics with him nuzzling his face into the back of her neck and she doesn’t even look into the camera because she knows that she looks like shit in the morning. 

 Y/N: The boss said I should send you a picture of things that I have to do today.

Y/N: [picture]

R: Fuck! I’m so jealous! Well, not with Dean but I’d like to do someone too.

Y/N: How’s it going with Sam?

R: Good, he’s taking me out tonight. I’m excited!

Y/N: Dean’s taking me out tonight, too. Finally.

R: What, you haven’t been out? Not even for dinner?

Y/N. Only room service. We were kind of busy.

R: Oh you little minx. Anyway, I need to get this done and you should do your… thing. 

 She grins and places her phone back onto the nightstand. Just when she was about to turn around to check if he fell asleep again, his hands wanders around her front, brushing along her stomach to cup around her pussy. 

Dean groans into her hair because she knows what he feels. He strokes along her folds while he rubs his now fully hard cock against her ass cheeks, “Fuck,” He slips in a finger, then another and she arches her back, drives her backside deeper onto his hard on.

Her pussy’s still so slick and full of his cum from last night, she’s sure that he can feel it too. 

“C’mon,” he whispers and pulls his fingers out, making her whimper at the loss. Dean maneuvers her over him so she’s lying with her back to his chest. Her lower back is on him while her shoulder blades hang down his body and rests on the mattress. He slips a hand around her shoulder, with his other hand, he lines himself up at her entrance before he moves that hand up to cup her around her chin, tilting her head to be able to kiss him while he pushes his cock up and into her. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I love being inside you,” He whispers, kisses her jaw and her chin. 

“Shit,” She can’t really say anything else, it feels too good. She likes the thickness of him, likes how good he fills her up.

He soon picks up his pace, fucks up into her faster, and there’s something about the position that they’re in that brings her over the edge way too fast. Her legs cramp up and she shakes above him as she comes on his cock without even touching her clit. 

Dean’s lips are resting on her cheek, he pants hard, “So good,” Kissing up her face, he licks at her ear, “Such a good girl coming on my cock,”

His one hand is around her throat, keeps her pinned against the pillow and his arm, and her face turns to him as he applies a little more pressure. She gets light headed. Dean starts to fuck her harder, “You like my cock, don’t you? Like it when I fuck you hard and rough?”

Oh god, what is he doing to her?

“Y-yes— oh fuck—” 

He kisses her again, as rough as he fucks her, as hard as his fingers around her throat. And she comes again without any warning. 

Dean grunts, his hips twitches and his hands are trembling as he feels her pussy walls clamping down on him. He buries his face into her neck, bites and sucks at the junction where it meets her shoulder, and starts to shudder all around. 

“Oh my god,” She pants, and she hears him chuckle into her skin. He quickly turns her around to spoon her again without slipping out of her. 

He sprays kisses along her shoulder and back and she strokes her nails along his arm. She starts to chuckle and he asks her what’s wrong.

“I finished my to do list for the day,” 

Dean laughs out loud, the bass of his voice rumbles at her back, “I think my name’s on that list twice.”

*

For Y/N, the rest of the day was spent lounging around. Dean has another two hours of conference calls he couldn’t talk himself out of. 

He makes it up to her by booking a masseuse to come over and give her a massage while he is in the meeting. He deliberately locks himself in the bathroom to talk, so as not to distract himself while the masseuse  kneads all the tension out of her body.

When the masseuse finishes, she lets out a deep content sigh and feels light all over.

Dean walks out of the bathroom to find her on the bed with a contented smirk on her face, “I feel like I should be the one to make you feel like this and not a masseuse,”

“Nobody can make me feel like this but the masseuse, don’t worry,” 

Dean frowns before he bends down to kiss her.

*

Dean wears his dress pants and a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled up to right below his elbow, two buttons loose around his collar. She opts for a simple dress in white, thinks that it goes great with her tan. Not that she doesn’t want to wear anything fancy. It’s more because she doesn’t have anything fancy and she feels bad asking Dean for shopping money, he’s already spent too much money to take her on this trip.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Dean’s lost in his phone but when he notices, he looks at her with that intense gaze that makes her stomach turn and her heart flutter. 

“You look lovely,” he says and licks his lips before he stands up to reach around her waist. He pulls her closer, and kisses her cheek. She’s glad she’s tanned, and her cheeks don’t flare up so fast anymore.

 *

 They arrive at the restaurant and the waiter shows them their table. Dean orders wine that goes down quite easily. It’s the first time that they have had dinner with just the two of them outside of their confined space, and it feels easy. It feels like there’s not a contract between them. She likes that easiness.

It’s after they had their appetizers that they heard a familiar voice. 

“My, my, look who’s here!”

They look up to see Amara, and Dean’s expression changes from easy to stern. 

Amara has her hand around the arm of someone and the waiter is about to show them their table when she suddenly says, “Oh, can we join you?” Before she turns to the waiter, “You know what? We like to sit with our friends.” She doesn’t even wait for their answer, sends the waiter away to set another table next to them and they cater to her wishes without even asking Dean who has his hands balled into fists. 

The people from the resort restaurant are quick to set up the table and Amara sits down next to Y/N.

“Y/N, you come sit next to me,” Dean’s voice rolls loud and deep above the chatter around them. It’s that authoritarian voice she normally only hears at work.

“Why? I think she’s perfectly fine next to me,” Amara smirks.

“I want my wife close to me,” Dean growls and Y/N scrambles off her seat, takes her wine glass with her. Because she wants that too, wants Dean close when Amara’s around.

When she sits down next to Dean, he quickly places his hand on her thigh as a way to calm her down, but he’s tense himself, she can feel it.

Amara introduces her companion as her boyfriend. His name is Arthur Ketch and his cousin is apparently some Duke from England. She gushes about him, as if Dean or Y/N would care.

So Amara has a boyfriend but she still doesn’t want an annulment. She doesn’t really understand Amara’s motives. It’s not like she needs Dean’s money. Amara has plenty herself.

“I see Dean still didn’t give you money for proper clothing, did he honey?”

“None of your fucking business, Amara,” Dean scoffs.

“I just think if you’re really married, you would want your wife to look presentable,”

“Not everyone is as shallow and greedy as you are,”

It’s a heated exchange between Dean and Amara and her and Ketch just look at each other, neither of them saying a word.

Amara’s really ruthless. She doesn’t back away and then she laughs, all loud and fake, “Oh, Dean, who are you to talk about greed? You’re the one who wants to help my greedy brother push me out, aren’t you? Well, too bad for you that I’m going to walk away with the money and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Dean,” Y/N whispers, tries to calm him down because she can see Dean’s lips twitch. He’s doing his best to hold himself back so as not to make a scene in a full restaurant. She moves closer to him, weaves her arm around his and lays her chin on his shoulder, “Look at me,” 

Dean’s gaze is still fixed on Amara and he looks more than pissed. 

“Hey, look at me,” She whispers again, waits for him to register her voice. He reluctantly tears his eyes away from Amara and slowly tilts his head in her direction. 

Y/N smiles at him when he finally looks at her. Her hand cradles his face and moves in to kiss his chin, his jaw, his cheek, moves up further to his nose and there’s finally a smirk on his face. She kisses his lips and Dean kisses her back, his hands on the back of her neck, pulling her closer into him. She breaks the kiss before it can get too heated, and she looks at him, “You okay?”

Dean nods, pecks her lips again, “Yeah,”

“We can go if you want, okay?”

He nods again, “Okay,”

Amara clears her throat audibly, “Ah, I almost believed that the kiss was real. You’re both too cute.”

Dean wants to open his mouth to protest but Amara cuts him off, “I talked to your brother, Y/N,”

“Jack?”

“Yeah, but his lips are tight. Wonder how much Dean pays him to stay silent. I bet I can get him to crack.”

“Leave my brother alone you stupid bitch!” She stands up so fast, it sends her chair skidding back and she thinks that everyone’s staring at her, but she just doesn’t fucking care. Jack shouldn’t be pulled into this, at all cost. 

“Baby, come on,” Dean stands up, “We’re leaving.”

“Awe, you didn’t even get to your main course!” Amara just doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.

Dean takes her hand and leads her out of the restaurant.

 *

 As soon as they're in their bungalow, Dean makes a call to Ash, the company’s IT guy. 

“Yeah, sorry to disturb, Ash, but I need you to do some research. Name’s Arthur Ketch. Report everything you find about him back to me asap.”

He pockets his phone and walks to her. She’s sitting on the bed, still shocked that Amara is casually talking about her brother, that she talked to him when Y/N didn’t even have a chance to do it herself yet. 

Dean sits down next to her, wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close to kiss her temple, “I want you to call Jack now. Tell him that I’ll book him onto the earliest flight we can get out here. Tell him that he needs to take some time off from college to come to Jamaica. I don’t trust Amara, I need Jack here. I wanna be able to explain it to him. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, sure,” She nods. She wants that too. Wants for Jack to be here where she can keep an eye on him. 

Dean kisses the top of her head before he gets up to call Sam and Y/N calls Jack in the meantime, waking her brother up. To her surprise, he sounds thrilled about taking a trip to Jamaica. Which is understandable, really. The last trip they made was two years ago, when they went to visit their aunt in Canada. 

She still sat in the same spot when Dean comes back to sit next to her.

“Ruby’s booking the flights right now,”

“Okay,” She nods. 

“Are you hungry? We could order something, we didn’t even get to the main course,”

She shakes her head, “I feel nauseous,” 

Dean chuckles weakly, “That always happens to me when I see Amara.”

 *

 Once they calmed down and sent Jack his itinerary, they got ready for bed. 

Dean slips in beside her, pulls her into his chest, and she breathes in the now familiar smell of him. He strokes her hair, cups her cheeks and tilts her head to place a kiss on her lips, “Don’t you worry about it, okay? We will talk to Jack and explain everything. Soon, this will all be over and you can go back to your old life. Jack can finish his degree. I’ll help you pay it off. You can use your money for other things, maybe buy more sappy books,”

She punches his chest and Dean lets out a chuckle before he kisses her forehead.

“Sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” She says. 

But what she actually wants to say, but doesn’t know how, is that she doesn’t really want to go back to her old life. That she wants to be like this, with him. Wants to wake up to him next to her. Wants to feel his lips on her skin, wants to feel his hands on her body. She fucking wants him, and to know that she can’t, really breaks her heart.

CH17

#light my fire #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #ceo!dean winchester #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

[anthropwashere]

Phic Phight: it’s all downhill from here (honey don’t be scared)

Prompt from @aggressivelyclueless: Halfa Valerie AU: Valerie becomes half-ghost. Apart from that being a total nightmare, this also leads her to discover Danny's secret as well. How is she going to handle it?

@currentlylurking @phicphight

Word count: 7,825

=

Mr. Heppenheimer, the latest in a long line of chemistry teachers that have come through Casper High since actual, real life ghosts have begun treating Amity Park like their own personal Las Vegas retreat away from the rigors of whatever normal life is like for ghosts in the Ghost Zone, gives Danny a lingering stink eye. Clearly the last teacher, Mrs. Jamshidi (who barely lasted a month, and submitted her two-week notice while recovering in the hospital after an admittedly memorable encounter with Ember), had left notes behind for her successor. Danny doubted a single word of it was in his favor.

"This practical's worth a quarter of your grade this semester," Mr. Heppenheimer says in his usual droll way. "You're not going to make me regret handing you glassware, are you, Mister Fenton?"

Danny, still a bit sore and off-kilter after another Jack Fenton-approved growth spurt, grins down at him. "No, sir."

Mr. Heppenheimer hums doubtfully. Clearly Mrs. Jamshidi had left extensive notes. "Don't make me regret this."

"Short of a ghost attack, I doubt you will," Danny answers truthfully. He really has gotten a much better control on his powers since the last time any science teacher let him near anything fragile, well over a year ago now. Mrs. Gorman hated him from the start for reasons he never figured out, anyway. He's looking forward to a fresh start.

Of course, worryingly enough Danny’s been sensing a pretty powerful ghost lurking around Casper High for over a week now. Along with the usual big green beasties that like to come sniffing around crowds of humans, which he’s had to dip out to handle three times now. No one’s noticed his on-going ghost sense, though it helps that he’s long-since gotten into the habit of keeping one hand cupped lazily over his mouth—just in case. That’ll be harder to pass off here in a practical lab, but there ought to be a lot of things bubbling and steaming soon. He just has to be careful until he’s got some cover.

Mr. Heppenheimer hums again, more dismissive than doubtful, and lets him approach the counter. His partner in this practical is Star, which is—randomized, definitely. Whatever, also definitely. He and Star have as much in common as him and an actual star, which is to say—nothing. He doesn't even generate heat anymore, not really. He's got a modified Maddie Fenton-approved belt buckle that lets him fake it, but it's not remotely the same thing, and not a

ll that convincing at close quarters anyway. Star, at least, knows him well enough that she's been bringing a mint green cardigan to class ever since they were assigned project partners.

Danny, well-aware he’s only good in the eyes of his peers for a laugh and anti-ghost tech, smiles thinly at Star and gestures at her to take the lead. She sniffs pointedly and does just so, which is fine with him. She's well on her way to valedictorian, whereas he's just trying to graduate. If deferring to whatever she wants gets him a passing grade, sure! He'll do whatever she says and accept whatever belittling comment she tacks on along with it. No skin off his back, right?

About twenty minutes into class there's a magnificent crash of glass that puts Danny 110% on edge; it's only Sam appearing at his left with a reassuring hand on his arm that keeps him from blasting a hole through the wall out of pure reflex. Which, maybe, possibly, likely says something about his state of mind after three straight years of fighting the kind of monsters that don't have any place outside of his very worst nightmares, but—whatever. Point is, thanks to Sam, he doesn't trash the lab or draw any unwanted attention to himself, both of which are good things! Another point in his favor: it’s finally somebody else’s turn to destroy a whole tray of beakers.

"Miss—Gray!" Mr. Heppenheimer shouts after a brief glance at the clipboard Danny hasn't seen him put down in the two weeks since he took the job. "What's the meaning of this?!"

"S-sorry!" Valerie stammers, her eyes firmly on the mess at her feet. Her project partner, Wes, is scowling at Danny. Likely because he believes the mess is entirely his fault. Wes can believe whatever he likes; just because he's the only one not fully in on The Big Secret who figured out The Big Secret out doesn't make him automatically right 100% of the time. Case in point: now. Danny's only touched his notebook, where he's got three pages of dutifully written notes on what Star's tasked him to write as she did all the metaphorical heavy lifting. He could swear on a stack of Bibles that this latest chemistry accident doesn't have a thing to do with him. It’s kind of refreshing, honestly.

Mr. Heppenheimer hums again. It seems to be his default over all the loud swearing he'd obviously prefer to be doing. "Clean it up. And do be careful, Miss Gray. I'd prefer to avoid sending anyone to the nurse's office today if I can help it."

"I—yeah. Yes, sorry." Valerie dashes off to the closet where all the safety-slash-cleaning gear is stashed to fetch cat litter, broom, and dustpan. Star scoffs on Danny's right, while Sam, hand still firmly squeezing Danny's bicep, has a worryingly thoughtful scowl on.

"Valerie has been such a mess since her dad lost his job," Star remarks in the usual scathingly cruel A-lister tone.

"He got his job back." Danny points out as he tries to shrug Sam off without making a big deal of it.

"So?" Star's tone has shifted from scathing to incredulous, which means she somehow didn't know something Danny's known since the tail end of their freshman year. It's admittedly bizarre to find himself able to lord some classmate gossip over an A-lister, but—with a glance at Sam to confirm it is, in fact, cool to lord this gossip over an A-lister—he gives Star a slow, sly grin as he gestures her closer. She leans in without an ounce of self-restraint or disgust, which means Danny's moved higher up the food chain since the last time he bothered to pay any attention.

"Valerie's dad used to be some bigwig in Axion Labs," he says, one eye on Sam and the other on Tucker, both of whom in turn are watching the teacher and the rest of the class. Just in case. "After Vlad—uh. Vladco, I mean—took over the company, Mister Gray got his position back despite Phantom screwing him over, and it's been smooth sailing for him ever since."

The sound of Valerie sweeping up broken glass gets discordantly loud, somehow. Danny doesn't have to look at her to know she's glaring daggers at him. He sets his shoulders and sticks the angle of his nose twenty degrees snootier, mostly to spite whatever murderous and/or weepy glower Valerie might be trying to laser into his soul. Which, whatever. He knows the shape of his own soul by now. He knows it's Phantom, plus or minus some degree of fiery white hair and green-tinged skin.

A bit of the old guilt niggles in the back of his head though. Accident or not, it was Phantom who cost Mr. Gray his job in the first place and Vlad who gave it back. And Vlad only did it at all once he realized his favorite little ghost fighting minion would be a better thorn in Phantom’s side if she didn’t have to work a part-time job at the Nasty Burger. Which—well. Danny’s glad she doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, for all that it does make her a better thorn in his side.

But—guilt. Dumb guilt, but on his plate all the same. He manages to edge the conversation to some other Gossip with a capital G that even Star's not aware of. Oh the things a guy can hear when he can literally turn invisible. It's kind of fun, honestly, to fill her in. The rest of the hour is spent hissing old-as-shit hearsay that still manages to make Star's eyes light up like she's watching Paulina’s favorite cabin burn down again. They do, somehow, manage to get their project pushed along to step three, which will pick up with the rest of all the normal and unobtrusive partnered projects tomorrow. He's not sure which of them is to thank for that, but he is more than a little pleased with how neatly he wrote their notes. It's the most like a regular student he's felt in months. It's honestly pretty great!

"We have a problem," Tucker hisses no less than five seconds and no more than ten after the bell rings. It's that perfect middle ground time of everyone shoving all their shit into their bags so they can bolt out the classroom door as fast as normal-humanly possible, so it's also that perfect middle ground time of nobody paying the three of them the least bit of attention.

"You noticed too?" Sam asks with her usual omniscient scowl. Danny truly and whole-heartedly wishes she'd stop with that, but he's yet to find an opportunity where he can say that to her face without coming across as a total shitheel, including now, so he grits his teeth and raises a pointedly baffled eyebrow at the both of them.

"Noticed what?" He asks with a patience he hasn't actually felt since junior high.

"Valerie's—" Tucker does a casual look around to see if anyone's close enough to eavesdrop, intentionally or no, which means this is a Phantom Thing. And if this is something Phantom and Valerie related? Yeah, no, he's in too good a mood for whatever latest gadget or trick Vlad might be cooking up via Valerie.

He holds up a hand with a sigh he automatically pretends is a yawn to cover up the blue wisp that escapes with it. "Can this wait? Better yet, can we just—not? At least for today? I'm really not up for counter-scheming."

"No need for that," Tucker assures way too quickly. The nervous laugh he follows it up with really doesn't help.

"Right," Danny says wryly, but motions to let them talk. Sam and Tucker share one of those weird non-verbal psychic looks where they have a whole conversation in the span of two seconds that goes right over Danny's head. He wishes they’d stop doing that, but if he called them out on it they’d deny it loudly, and it’d be a whole thing, and—ugh.

"Valerie's acting weird," Tucker says once they've finished. "As in, 'we definitely need to intervene' weird."

"Possessed?"

"No. But this might be worse."

"But this isn't the first time she made a mess in class,” Sam says.

Danny slips his one (1) notebook and one (1) pencil into his bag. He's learned the hard way to pack light and get real good at shorthand, as well as keep all his textbooks down in the Fenton dungeon where they're least likely to get torched in a ghost fight. Again. "Isn't it?"

"Nope," Tucker says as they make their way to the door. Danny's sure to give Mr. Heppenheimer some ever-so-slightly iridescent stink eye of his own to make him flinch, and then doubt himself for flinching. One good turn, and all that. "Seventh actually. Third a teacher noticed, but she's been weirding out a lot of the other students."

Danny grunts, more interested in shouldering other people out of the way to make it easier for Sam and Tucker to squeeze out into the hall. Hey, may as well get some mileage out of being one of the tallest guys in school, right? 

Sam touches his elbow to make sure she's got his attention while they make their way to their next classes. She's got sign language, Tucker's got photography, and Danny's got a free hour to nap in the auditorium ceiling. "She's constantly dropping things, she's always shivering, every lie I've heard her tell a faculty member has been total nonsense, she hasn't gone after a single ghost in almost two weeks—"

"Well, that would explain why there's been an uptick in my fifth period snake-wrangling," Danny remarks dryly, then grins nastily at some girl giving him a serious case of side-eye. She squeaks—actually squeaks!—and ducks behind some broad-shouldered guy in an eye-wateringly neon football jersey.

Tucker wacks his other elbow, scowling up at him. "Dude, this is serious."

"I haven't heard a reason to care yet."

He doesn't have to look to see they're doing another round of psychic Concerned About Our Bestie back-and-forth. Sam's the one who trips him—damn her preference for steel-toed boots—but it's Tucker who shoves him into a nook between two battered banks of lockers. "Danny," they both snap.

He blinks down at them expectantly, staying quiet. Hey, they're the one's worried about the badass ghost fighting black belt who would love nothing more than an opportunity to strap Phantom down to an operating table and go wild with a cattle prod. He's just trying to graduate. Preferably with all his teeth.

"Valerie is acting just like you did freshman year," Sam hisses. "Right after the you-know-what."

Danny barks laughter. "Yeah, right."

Sam and Tucker remain stone-cold serious. Worse, they look worried.

They wouldn't suggest something so crazy without a lot of thought put into it.

Fuck.

= 

It's another two days before Danny gets a good—"good"—opportunity to talk to Valerie one-on-one. During that time he sees first-hand no less than 37 incidents of irrefutable acts of half-ghost-hood. How nobody else—including that ass, Wes!—has caught on yet is nothing short of a miracle. Valerie cut ties with every other person in their graduating class after some disastrous party embarrassment Danny never cared enough to find out the details of secondhand. She's kept her head down and her teeth bared at anybody who’s tried to meet her halfway, and it seems everyone's accepted the fact that Valerie Gray is the second worst delinquent in the entire school.

(The first is him, naturally.)

He corners her three minutes before the bell to end lunch will ring. He's got calculus next—an unexpected good turn in his life that still makes him giggle every time he actually has time to do his homework—and she's got English. They can't afford to skip either class, but hey, you only half-die once, right?

She scowls up at him, twitching her head out of a habit she's not yet broken. She only shaved her head a month ago. He's still reeling over how good she looks, and also how much it makes her look like the awesome older Valerie from the horrible future where he and Vlad ghost-melded and murdered a dismayingly large number of humans. If that future is still somehow lingering out there in the tangled fabric of spacetime like a bad hangnail, he’s pretty sure that Valerie died, fullstop. 

He’d like it if he could do something to help this Valerie not die, fullstop. 

She scowls up at him harder. "What do you want?"

He allows himself another couple seconds to just—bask. Yes, she's hot as hell, and if they were both normal humans she could easily break him over her knee like a fistful of kindling. He's not yet gotten an inch of the Fenton width. He's basically all elbows, and it's now all but impossible to find shoes in his size. It's great, really, just super.

Mostly though, he holds his breath and lets his ghost sense settle in a chilly, wriggly knot in his lungs. How the hell did he not realize she was the cause before now?

He smiles down at her. It becomes immediately apparent that this is the worst possible thing he could have chosen to do. He stops smiling. Somehow that's worse.

"We need to talk," he says, and immediately wants to hit himself. Has daytime television not taught him anything? That's the worst thing he could have said!

"I don't think so," she says, and tries to edge past him. He catches her elbow—

—and she's got him smashed up against a classroom door before he can even blink. 

"Uh," they say at the same time. He feels one of her hands go ice cube cold against his skin. Since it's him and not a normal person, it's far more likely her hand just dropped to some negative three-digit temperature. If he were human, he'd be at risk for frostbite. As he's not, it's more like a refreshing breeze. He swears he even gets a whiff of the Ghost Zone off of her; like a hard shock of static on his tongue in a midnight snowfall. It's... nice. Is that what he smell-feels like? 

Hmm. Distracting himself. Best to stop doing that.

She realizes after too long a beat of awkward silence that one of her arms has gone full-ghostly, and springs back with a half-hysterical yelp. He turns around to look at her again, rolling his shoulder out of a long habit of pretending that Dash trying to rough him up actually feels like anything. She looks—

Well. Kind of like some kind of frazzled toy dog that's had to deal with way too many idiot humans manhandling her, and like she's pissed that all the finger-biting she's tried has only gotten her a bunch of braindead cooing. Danny finds himself sympathizing, and also like maybe he needs to vent to somebody else aside from Cujo on their 3 a.m. Thursday walkies. He considers several facial expressions he could make at her, dismisses all of them, and settles on upping the grimacing and shoulder-rolling. It sort of works? She looks guilty, which is honestly one of the better reactions she could be leveling at him right now.

"We really do need to talk, actually," he says, feigning an apologetic tone while pretending very hard he hasn’t noticed her left arm suddenly stops at the elbow. 

"Pretty sure we don't," she retorts.

He makes a show of rolling his eyes, and then a show of looking pointedly at her invisible arm. She looks down at herself, does a double-take, yelps again, and hides both of her arms behind her back as she makes several stammering attempts at a believable excuse. Danny winces, torn between sympathy and secondhand embarrassment. Sam was right; this is exactly how he stumbled his way through the first six months of figuring out his powers. At least he had the benefit of a couple of friends and eventually Jazz too to help cover his tracks. Valerie's on her own. She's going to get found out at this rate, and accidentally or not she will drag him and Vlad down with her.

"It's okay," he says calmly.

"Everything's fine I don't know what you're talking about!" 

He looks at her, unimpressed, until she looks appropriately embarrassed. "Let's try this again," he says, and puts both hands up to stall when she goes to retort. "Please?"

She purses her lips, huffing through her nose, but nods. Good enough.

"You're not okay," he tells her. "You're freaking out because something crazy happened to you, and you don't have anybody to turn to for answers without risking everything. You think you're a monster, or that you're dead, or you're dying, or some shitty combination of all of the above. You're scared because you can't control what's happening, and you're scared because you know you're gonna get caught at this rate, and you're scared because you know exactly what the GIW does to the ecto-entities it manages to get its hands on, because you're the reason half the ghosts that frequent Amity Park have done time in a GIW containment cell. Right?"

Valerie stares.

She keeps staring. 

Eventually her mouth starts making some feeble attempt at protest.

A while after that she musters up the stamina to stammer out, "W-whahaaat are you talking about? I think you've got—ha! The wrong idea! Yeah! I bet you're thinking I'm, uh. Um. Possessed! Yes! I'm definitely possessed! You caught me, oh fuck, I'm definitely just another one of Walker's goons—nobody important though! No nefarious schemes going on either, honest! I just, uh, wanted to take a human… out for a spin? Yes, that’s what I’m doing. You definitely don't need to say anything to your parents—"

"Valerie," he says.

Her mouth snaps shut so hard her teeth click. She looks terrified, furious, and miserable all at once. She looks like she knows she's cornered, caught red-handed, and like she fully expects Danny to rat her out. Does she really think so little of him?

He winces inwardly. Of course she does. She's kept him at arm's length since freshman year because he never owned up the truth to her. She's been protecting him from himself all this time by staying away. She only knows the front he puts on for everybody else.

The bell rings. In a matter of seconds this hallway is going to be packed with students, and this is not a conversation to risk anyone overhearing. He looks around. Their options are to either continue this wedged in a janitor's closet (she'd probably shoot him), ghost her up to the roof (she'd definitely shoot him) or duck into a classroom. Luck's on his side for once. He'd cornered her just outside the wreckage of the wood shop; it's not going to be fit to teach in until after they graduate, and even the other, regular delinquents know better than to hang out anywhere with that much Fenton ectobiological hazard caution tape. 

He nods toward the door. "Please?"

She looks like she'd much rather go toe-to-tail with Desiree, but the sound of a crowd surging their way decides for her. She bolts for the door, Danny at her heels, and they're in and hidden out of sight before anyone could see them go. He watches through a small hole in a stretch of opaque plastic sheeting, patiently waiting for the rest of the school to disperse into their various classrooms. There're too many holes in the wood shop's walls to risk talking even with all the noise out there. 

Eventually the hall outside quiets. The late bell rings. It's about as safe as it'll ever get to have this talk.

"I can explain," she begins, her voice quiet and shaken. 

"You don't have to," he says, and turns on the scary eyes as he faces her. 

Three years of fighting nightmare monsters hasn't done Valerie the right kind of favors either. A metal cube materializes over her shoulder and flares brightly as it powers up a shot. She in turn steps smoothly into a defensive stance, light humming up and down her as she... doesn't pull her ghost-fighting suit out of the spectral hammerspace it sloughs off to whenever she doesn't need it. He blinks. He looks at the cube properly once it becomes clear she isn't going to shoot him. The light coming off it isn't pink anymore, but the same ghost-green as his own powers.

"Explain," she growls.

Probably not a good time for jokes. He keeps his serious face on, scary eyes and all. "I was in an accident freshman year. My parents couldn't get their ghost portal to work. They got lax about not letting Jazz and I down there unsupervised. I took Sam and Tucker down there one afternoon while they were out. One thing led to another, and I accidentally got their portal to work. While I was standing inside it."

She winces. Not like Jazz or Wes did when he stammered out the story to them just so they'd stop asking. Not in sympathy as they tried to imagine what that would have felt like and falling a thousand miles short (not that he ever said so). She gives him the same look he's seen in the mirror every time a bad dream of that day grabs him by the throat and shocks him awake. She knows.

"Don't shoot," he jokes weakly, and reaches for that cold spark that shares the same illogical, impossible space as his heart. 

Another three cubes appear in a neat arc over her head when he changes, not that he blames her. She's just found out she dated her sworn enemy once upon a time. He's definitely surprised she doesn't shoot. She does go a bit deer in the headlights again, but more like a ghost deer that's just as likely to shoot lasers as it might bolt into traffic. "I," she tries. "You. You're. The whole goddamn time?!"

"Okay," he says. "Point of order. Cujo really wasn't my dog yet when I got your dad fired. That was an accident and I'm still very, very sorry about that."

Her eyes go ghost-red. "You wanna try that again?"

He sucks air in through his teeth, sighs out another blue wisp. She's doing it too. Has been the whole conversation actually, and plenty of other times before. He wonders if she's figured out what it means yet. He adds it to the list he's mentally compiling, keeps his hands up, and starts running his mouth as contritely as he can. 

=

The sun's almost set by the time Danny's really, truly, fully convinced Valerie not to turn him into the half-ghost equivalent of Swiss cheese. He's so hungry he feels like he's nursing a gut wound, but he thinks it's the smart choice to not suggest talking all of this out over dinner. It's not like his allowance (and black hole of an appetite) would pay for more than clearing out the dollar menu at Jack-in-the-Box, and no way is he stupid enough to suggest Valerie pay. So he remains perched on one of the few remaining tables left in the wood shop, still in Phantom mode mostly to watch Valerie grind her teeth. She's sitting cross-legged on another table, cubes and scary eyes gone. She's reached the fun sort of balance between bone-tired exhaustion and impotent frustration with no good outlet that isn't the kind of violence that will draw a lot of unwanted attention. She sits there and stews awhile, turning over everything he's told her.

He pulls out his phone—tossing her a wry grin when she flinches—and lets her stew. He shoots out a "safe, taking longer than a thought it would" into the group chat he's got with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. Tucker lets him know he's rooting for him, and also they handled the Box Ghost's usual afternoon showing with a game of checkers, and Wulf's in town avoiding Walker again. Sam reminds him to work on his book report if Valerie doesn't skin him alive first. He shoots back a neutral affirmative to them both, then pulls up Bubble Blaster to kill time until Valerie feels like talking—

"It was two weeks ago," she starts.

Danny resists the urge to sigh and pockets his phone again. Well, he mimes pocketing his phone. It sort of phases into that weird imaginary skin between his halves with a buzz of protest. When he changes back it'll be in his back right pocket, fully charged. 

"Mister Masters," she pauses to make this really complicated grimace, like she'd sort of prefer calling Vlad something like Captain Fuckface but she's too polite to do it aloud. Danny makes a mental note to call Vlad exactly that the next time they run into each other. The fruitloop'll make a hilarious noise, he just knows it. "Mister Masters sent me info on another job. He told me some of his employees at Axion Labs had reported some ghost sightings, and my dad had mentioned seeing some weird stuff too, so. So I snuck out and went to go check it out. It didn't sound like anything bad, just. Y'know. Another ghost."

Two weeks ago her tone would have been one of complete, dismissive disgust. Two weeks ago she was still human though. Danny stays quiet, which is probably the smart thing to do.

"There was something on my radar when I got there. I thought it was gonna be you, honestly—" She glares, a flicker of red coloring her eyes. He shrugs and gives her a charming grin that's all, Who, me? She doesn't buy it for a second, not that he expected her too. Two weeks ago Vlad was being a real prick though, setting all sorts of nasty ghoulies he'd Frankenstein'd in his super gross secret lab loose in the downtown area. Danny's honestly not sure if he got any sleep for like, four straight days. There was a lot of doctored coffee involved, by which he means the kind of coffee a regular human couldn't drink without requiring a fairly immediate trip to the ER. 

(Tucker Foley tested.)

"Most of the reports were from some department I've never heard my dad talk about, and it's all three levels underground. If Technus hadn't juiced my suit up again I don't think I could've gotten down there—"

That's an alarm bell Danny super doesn't like the sound of. "Again?"

She waves her hand dismissively that's all, So last year, honey, try and keep up. "Doesn't matter. Point is, I got down there, and it—well. It looked like the Fen—uh. Your parents' lab. Kind of identical, actually. In a kinda creepy way."

Yeah, that's Vlad all over. Kinda creepy and not all that original. Oh well. He raises his eyebrows pointedly.

"Uh. Well, my radar went crazy down there, but I still couldn't get a real bead on anything. So I went poking around and found the framework of this—well, portal. I didn't realize it was a portal though, since it didn't look like the one in your parents' lab. It was standing on its own in the middle of the room, covered in cables—"

"Ours is a mess too," he points out. "You can't tell unless it's off though. I'm not really sure where all those cables and weird hunks of tech go while it's on...."

She gives him a look like she's regretting not shooting him earlier. He does the smart thing by not pointing out that shooting him is still very much on the table, and that if history's anything to go by she's a huge fan of shooting him. He can't help but think that opinion might, just possibly, if he's very lucky, have changed in the last couple of hours. Fingers crossed? Those cube cannon things hurt like a bitch.

"I was looking around that thing because it was freaking my radar out when Plas—Mister Masters showed up."

He reels a bit. She must've expected it, because it's her turn to raise her eyebrows pointedly. "Wait," he says, holding his hands up in a time out T. "Wait a minute. You knew he's Plasmius? The whole goddamn time?!"

"No," she snaps. "Only after Danielle."

"That's nearly the whole goddamn time. What the hell, he's been lording you over me as a reason not to blab the truth for years. For fuck's sake, Valerie—"

"You wanna maybe shut up and let me finish, ghost kid?"

He scowls. She scowls back, plus scary eyes. He's pretty sure she's not doing it intentionally, so the effect's not as impressive as it could be. Red continues to be a great color for her though, not that he's dumb enough to say that.

"Plasmius showed up, blasted me into the portal, and hit the switch before I could do anything," she bites out, hunching in on herself like she's wishing the ground would swallow her whole—aaaand there she goes, sinking through the table. He clears his throat loudly, she realizes what's going on and ends up flailing around like an idiot for a few seconds until her body gets physical enough to stay put. 

"Sam was right," he muses. "This is entertaining."

"Fuck you," she snaps without much venom. Mostly she sounds tired.

He sighs, hating himself a little for reasons he's not gonna explore right now. He's too hungry for introspection. "Did he evil-monologue why he did that to you?"

"A little. I was kinda out of it, after." She grimaces, gesturing at herself. "I didn't catch all of it. Something about being a distraction for you, though I didn't know that he meant you at the time."

"Oh goodie, this evil plot has layers, and ruining your life is apparently a fucking footnote." He scrubs his face with both hands and changes back into his plain Jane self. Valerie twitches badly, eyes flashing red and a fun eye-watering white shimmer shivering up her whole body. Huh. "Hey, have you tried changing back since that asshat zapped you?"

"Of course not," she hisses, looking at him like he just suggested she go streaking through the administration office. "I'm trying to keep a low profile while I figure out a way to fix what he did to me."

Ah, hell.

"I'm sorry," seems the smart thing to start with. He hops off the table, hands up where she can see them as he approaches her. He takes a risk at reaching for her hands. She surprises him again by continuing to not shoot him. "I'm really, really sorry. But there's no fixing this. You just get—better at being this." He squeezes a little when she starts shaking her head and pulling away, amping up the 'I'm sorry for your loss' face he's had to get way too good at. Superhero, he ain't. "I'm serious. Vlad's been like me—like us—since like, '85 or whenever he got zapped by a proto-portal, and he got really sick after."

Her eyes go big and laser pointer red again. "S-sick?"

"Ecto-acne. Ever hear of it?" She shakes her head. "You'll probably be okay, if Axion's portal is based on my parents' portal, or even Vlad's."

"He has a portal?"

"In Wisconsin," he confirms grimly. "He's been trying to build a second one ever since he moved here, but I kept messing with him. I didn't think to check the basements of any of his evil companies."

"Axion Labs isn't evil," she retorts instead of doing the sensible thing and blaming him outright for the shit she’s mired in for keeps. 

He raises an eyebrow. "Sure. And Invis-o-Bill really is hellbent on establishing a ghost-human empire capital in Amity fucking Park."

She winces.

"Wait. You didn't actually believe that, did you?"

She winces harder.

"Ohhhh Valerie," he sighs, dropping her hands to melodramatically sag against another table. "I'm wounded. Honestly, truthfully, hurt that you'd think so highly of fucking Invis-o-Bill. Haven't you been paying attention to the shit the gossip mags shill about me? I'm either a ghost blob with delusions of grandeur in a skinsuit or the ostracized son of Pariah Dark and Desiree. You don't think my evil ghost parents have been around enough to teach me how to be a good evil emperor, do you?"

She's trying—and failing—not to laugh. "Shut up. How was I supposed to know what to believe, huh? None of the ghosts ever say shit about you."

"Yeah, 'cause they're cool with keeping my secret!"

She presses forward to jab a finger in his chest. She's still kind of flicker-y at the edges, like she hasn't quite decided she isn't going to go full ghost hunter on him, so it sort of feels like another hard burst of static. Goosebumps break out all down his skin; it's all he can do not to shiver. "What's with that, anyway? Most of 'em are so hellbent on destroying you for stopping them again and again, but none of them have ever come blabbing your big life-ruining secret to me or your parents!"

He shrugs. "Honestly? I don't think it's ever occurred to any of them. I'm pretty sure Skulker's the only one who knows like, for sure that Vlad's the same as me, and that's only 'cuz he likes to take jobs from Vlad now and then. The others?" Another, more expansive shrug as he slides sideways out of her range. So she makes him uneasy. What about it? She's only shot him point blank like, five hundred times if she's done it once. He'd really like to get out of this whole situation without any new burns to hide.

"Huh," she says. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It's not—I dunno. I think it'd be like cheating for most of 'em to go blabbing to some humans or even Vlad. They wanna take me down, sure, but they wanna do it on their own steam. I'm definitely not complaining."

"Course you're not, because you are ludicrously overpowered compared to most of the ghosts out there itching for a little world domination."

He grins down at her, big and sloppy. "Hey, give it some time and you'll be OP as fuck too."

She reacts to that little nugget of wisdom just like he expected her to; retreating halfway across the room and shrinking in on herself like she's dearly wishing for a bit of time travel to undo what Vlad did to her on a selfish whim. Well. A conversation with Clockwork is an option still on the table. He'll give her a few more days of adjustment before suggesting a fun little jaunt into the Ghost Zone. He's honestly not sure if Clockwork and her are properly acquainted. That should be good for a laugh if nothing else. 

"Hey," he says companionably. "I mean it. You're gonna be okay."

She scoffs. He pretends not to hear the dampness to it. "Oh, sure. So long as I do exactly what you say, right?"

"This isn't blackmail," he says, injecting as much calm as he can to his voice. "Honest. I mean, I won't lie and pretend I'm not hoping you listen to me. If you get found out it's both of our necks on the chopping block. Sure, I'll make sure Vlad takes the fall too, so that's some nice revenge wrapped with a bow, but it's not like we'd be around to really appreciate it, y'know?"

She makes another, slightly damper noise. He considers the risk of hugging her against the risk of walking away with all his parts where they ought to be, and he decides the smart thing is to stay put and pretend right along with her that she's definitely not crying.

"I want to help you, Valerie. I've been where you're at. I know how much it sucks. And I had Sam and Tucker helping me while I tried to figure it all out. You... you need somebody to help you. Trust me on this much at least, okay? This isn't something you can do alone."

Her various damp noises evolve into an outright sob. "Fuck."

Yeah. That about sums it up.

"Fuck," she hisses out again, pawing roughly at her face. "This. I didn't want—all this time and you never—I coulda killed you but you didn't—and now I'm—!"

Okay. Yeah. Superheroes don't leave anybody to cry so miserably on their own. He's hardy. Even if she shoots him he can hang out, make sure she's okay to get home on her own. And they both skipped their last two classes. He ought to go rummage around their teachers' desks and try to figure out what tonight's homework is. She's got every reason to burn her textbooks and scream fuck it at the moon (Danny's sophomore year was a personal low point), and it's just as likely Skulker will pull some new scheme to try and skin him tonight as any other school night, but it's the principle of the thing. They're both just trying to graduate at this point, and they're so close. 

It might seem so incredibly, completely stupid, to care about graduating with all the other bullshit in their lives. Most days, it is stupid to care. But there are some days that stupid, pointless piece of paper is the only reason Danny chooses to get out of bed. He chooses to remember that he's still human enough for human consequences. He needs that diploma to get into college, and he needs to get into college so he can earn his bachelor's, and he needs to be stable enough to earn his pilot's license, and then somehow net 1,000 hours as pilot-in-command in a fucking jet, and on and on and on, because there's still this stupid, stupid, stupid little voice in his head that won't shut up about how cool it'd be to actually manage to become an astronaut despite—

—everything.

He wants to ask what Valerie wanted to be when she grew up, but that's... not now. That's a conversation for later, if he's lucky enough that she'll trust him with that little, foolish dream every kid clings to even when they're loudly proclaiming how stupid it is. Everybody grows up and realizes how stupid the dream jobs they wanted when they were kids was; it's the real dreamers that grit their teeth and keep working despite—

—everything.

He takes the risk, the leap of faith. He closes the distance between them and plays a pattern across her shoulder to warn her he's coming in for a hug. No cubes or guns or accidental ecto-rays materialize to blast him into next week, so he calls it a win and finishes the deed. She's all hunched shoulders and hard fingers knotted in his shirt, hot tears and probably some snot at war with how neutrally temperature-wise the rest of her feels. Everybody else—everybody human—feels hot as a sunburn if he gets too close. Ghosts are still too cold, though thanks to his handy-dandy ice powers none of them are ever cold enough to hurt like humans do. 

Here and now, hugging Valerie and whispering soft, pointless bullshit into her frizzy hair is the closest to human he's felt in—

—in too long.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"Don't be," he replies, instead of Me too.

"Thank you," she says.

"Nothin' to thank me for," he replies, instead of You should be blaming me for this.

"I'm scared," she says.

"It's going to be okay," he replies, and means it.

=

It's almost nine by the time he makes it to Sam's house, and he's so hungry he tunnel visions twice on the flight over. Lucky him, his friends and secret keepers know how bullshit his anatomy is, and there's a veritable buffet awaiting him when he gets there. Luckier him, his friends and secret keepers know better than to try and hold a Serious Conversation when he's like this, and leave him alone for the better part of 20 minutes before they both start loudly clearing their throats.

He slows his flawless imitation of a combine harvester long enough to muster a, "Hngh?"

Sam and Tucker waste precious moments he could be upping his calorie count with another psychic conversation that they're clearly both enjoying. He scowls, for all the good it'll do him.

"How'd it go?" Sam asks.

"Well," he says, setting his fork down to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Manners, schmmaners. "She didn't shoot me."

"Damn it," Tucker says loudly, and pulls out his phone.

"Seriously?" Danny asks.

"He owes Jazz twenty bucks," Same explains as Tucker begins a furiously-typed text. Danny suppresses the urge to shudder. Something about the haptic feedback on cell phones really sets him on edge. He genuinely doesn't know if it's a pet peeve or a ghost thing. Either way he always has to squash the insane urge to pitch Tucker's phone at the nearest brick wall, and right now that is an honest struggle.

"Seriously?" He repeats. "You bet against me?"

Tucker pauses long enough to level an incredulous glare at him. "Dude."

...yeah, okay. That's fair. Danny would've bet against himself too, if he'd known to. 

"Rude," he says anyway, on principle. 

Sam and Tucker both make a huge show of rolling their eyes, but at least Sam pushes another three slices of pizza in his direction. They even ordered in, so there's actual meat and cheese on it. He has the best friends a guy could ask for, even if Tucker is an ass nine times out of ten. Serves him right to lose 20 bucks, voting against him against his sister of all people.

"Details," Sam demands. "How's she doing, what happened, is she gonna stop trying to kill you, et cetera."

"Vlad happened," he manages through half a slice of pizza. Sam and Tucker both wince; Tucker hard enough he actually drops his phone.

"Fuck," Tucker hisses. "Why?"

"Dunno yet. And I dunno about you, but figuring out his latest scheme has definitely become number one on my honey do list."

They both nod. Tucker's the one to ask the important follow up. "And Valerie? How's she doing?"

He makes a seesaw motion with one hand. "Again, gotta stress the whole 'didn't shoot me' thing." He grins real sleazily while Tucker groans. "She's not great though. I foresee the next like, two months helping her out taking priority over all the usual ghost bullshit. Short of like, apocalyptic ghost attacks, of course."

"Fair," Sam and Tucker both say. Sam gives him a pointed capital L Look, going so far as to pull his plate a few inches away so he can better direct his instinctive growl at her. "She's not gonna rat, is she?"

"No," comes out more snarl-y than he means it to, but—pizza. Sam takes him at face value at least, and gives him his plate back, with an extra slice of meat lover's for good behavior. She's his favorite. 

"We're gonna co-op," he adds, and pretends not to notice the Extraordinarily Concerned Psychic Look Sam and Tucker share over that bit of news. Whatever. They can stress over the idea of Valerie being included in their group. Him? He's gonna polish off the rest of this pizza, pull his one (1) notebook and one (1) pencil out of his bag, and he's going to get as much of a headstart on his homework before patrol as he can. If he actually manages to finish his two pages of grammar problems he's going to call it a great day. Anything else? Well, that's gravy so far as he's concerned. 

He grins to himself a little, thinking of Valerie's new phone number burning a hole in his pocket. If anything toothsome decides to show up tonight he got the okay to text her. And honestly? For all that she's in the same bullshit hell as he, Vlad, and Elle are....

Well. It's probably shitty of him, but it's still nice to have an ally and friend in this half-ghost bullshit hell.

#danny phantom #my writing #valerie gray #gray ghost #phic phight 2020

[ladyanput]

So Lila is having a party and hires Mari’s partners bakery to cater. The Batfam come over to surprise Mari with a visit. Mari has to work Lila’s party. The Batfam decide to help out. At the end of the party Lila decides to not pay for the pastries. And says “if Marinette was a friend she would give them to us for free.” The Batfam is pissed and put not only Lila but the entire class in their place. Sooooo much salt

This is also based off of a prompt @virgil-is-a-cutie sent me forever ago.

[[MORE]]

Marinette stared down at the name on the catering order, dread curdling in her gut like sour milk.

Lila Rossi

"We're catering a party tonight?" Marinette looked up at her parents, who were frantically putting together the order that had been sent in last minute. The sight made Marinette's heart ache.

"The poor girl told us that her caterer cancelled on her last minute and this is for her birthday, so we decided to take it." Sabine smiled brightly, though it was obviously strained along the edges as she whipped up some more buttercream icing for the towering birthday cake they were putting together.

"I just hope we can find someone to help us cater on such short notice." Tom muttered as he took another batch of chocolate filled croissants out of the oven, filling the air with the buttery sweet scent.

"I could help!" Marinette spoke out quickly, then winced. She knew exactly what this party was, it was the one that Lila had been going on and on about for months, a big party where tons of celebrities would be, as well as Lila's millionaire boyfriend. There were also her braggings about getting special caterers from Spain, but Marinette assumed this was just Lila backpedalling with a new story of the caterers canceling on her last minute.

It was also a party that Marinette had not been invited to and was basically banned from by her class.

But still, she couldn't just let her parents deal with this alone, they didn't deserve that!

Her parents beamed and Sabine hugged her daughter tightly, just as the front door's bell jingled. Marinette peeked out of the kitchen and blinked in surprise with she saw four men standing in the bakery entrance. Four familiar men.

"What are you guys doing here in Paris?" Marinette pushed her way through the swinging door, rushing over to the four Wayne sons and throwing herself into Damian's arms, warmly kissing him

as she was picked up and spun around.

"We wanted to visit you." Tim offered, blinking in surprise when Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

"We wanted to see you, Angel." Damian smiled, then shot a glare to his brothers, Jason specifically. "Though one is us simply wanted to stuff his ugly mug full of pastries. I swear, he'll end up fat with diabetes and alone for the rest of his life."

"Whatever, Demon Spawn, you're just jealous because Marinette likes making goodies for me more than you." Jason rolled his eyes, but scooped up Mari into a tight hug. "Your boyfriend here has been antsy to see you."

"Because I couldn't stand the sight of your face anymore." Damian shot back, before turning his gaze to Marinette once again. He noticed the lines of stress around her mouth, her eyes. Something was obviously bothering her. "Marinette, what's wrong?"

"Huh?" Marinette looked between the four guys nervously, fiddling with one of her pigtails. "Oh, nothing! It's just that we just got a last minute catering gig and we don't have enough catering staff. As in I'll be the only one serving alongside my parents."

Dick and Jason exchanged glances before the oldest Wayne boy reached out and set a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Let us help you tonight, Mari. We wanted to spend time with you anyways, so this can help with the issue." Dick offered, smiling brightly down at her.

"No, I couldn't ask that of you! Besides, you've probably never catered before, I wouldn't want anyone getting hurt!" Mari stuttered out as her parents exited the kitchen, covered in flour, sugar, and sweat.

"Well, Angel, I'm sorry to say." Damian smiled, crossing his arms as he watched her. "You don't really have much of a choice."

---

Looking back on it now, Marinette was more than happy the boys insisted. The entire school was at this party being hosted by Lila at Le Grand Paris. Marinette silently wondered how the hell Lila could afford this.

She served people the chocolate croissants, though kept clear of her classmates, not wanting to deal with any of that smack talk. From what she saw of the boys, they were doing superb, some of her classmates *cough* Sabrina *cough* Alya *cough* openly flirted with the beyond handsome guys.

As Marinette turned to serve a few kids from her art club, her stomach dropped at the sight of Lila walking over to her. Ever since Lila had turned seventeen, she had taken to wearing these tight clothes that hid nothing of her body. Marinette was pretty sure that tight orange evening dress Lila had on fit her like a second skin. And it obvious the girl was not wearing a bra, by the gods where was the bleach.

"Marinette! It was so kind of you and your parents to cater my party this evening! I really appreciate it, the food was lovely, there were even done croissants that weren't dried out." Lila grinned, her green eyes sparking with malice as their class surrounded them, shooting Marinette glares as they hadn't wanted the baker's daughter anywhere near this party to ruin it.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Lila." Marinette forced a smile, her hands gripping the edges of her platter tightly. She honestly wanted to chuck it at Lila and run. "My parents will be sending you the bill tomorrow."

Alya snorted, as well did the rest of miss Bustier's class. Lila joined in, her laughter drawing the attention of the nearby Damian.

"Very funny, Marinette. I know all about you not charging your friends. And you are such a good friend, right, to cater my birthday party for free? It's my eighteenth after all, you wouldn't want to make me cry on my birthday." Lila fluttered her lashes, but the threat was clear. If Marinette said no, Lila would put up a stink in front of the entire school and ruin the bakery's reputation.

"But... But this entire gig is worth about three hundred and forty euros." Marinette visibly paled, her eyes darting to her parents who were setting down the large birthday cake Lila had ordered, one with fifteen layers. They had worked so hard ever since two am that morning... It would be so much money down the drain.

"God, Marinette, don't be selfish! You catered to my birthday party last year, didn't you?" Alya snapped, crossing her arms as she cocked her hip.

"Yours was only a few trays of cupcakes, Alya.." Marinette began to tremble in anger as she noticed Lila tearing up. How dare they.. How dare they expect something this expensive for free?! Marinette was sure Lila was going to try and get this ballroom for free too, as well as the decorators!

"That is a bit ridiculous, don't you think?" Damian stepped up beside his girlfriend and shot Lila a withering glare. "This is a very expensive venue, a true friend wouldn't ask for that ridiculous amount of a discount. Even a best friend."

"I don't know who you are, but you will certainly be hearing from my boyfriend if you don't mind your own business!" Lila snapped, tossing her hair over her shoulder, which unfortunately caught Alya in the face, knocking her glasses onto the floor.

"Oh yeah, who's your boyfriend?" Tim strode up, eyebrow raised. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to kiss that vile girl.

"Damian Wayne. His family is very rich and powerful, you know." Lila sneered, setting her hands on her hips, unaware of Alya being on her hands and knees, desperately searching for her glasses.

"That's funny. I don't ever remember having a girlfriend quite like you. Last time I checked, my girlfriend had the most beautiful blue eyes, and the most adorable freckles." Damian wrapped an arm around Marinette's waist, pulling her close as he planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I take it you're the lying girl that made my little Pixie Pop cry." Jason loomed over the group, a feral smile on his face as he crossed his arms, the entire room watching them now. "Throwing our father's name around isn't too smart, Lie-la."

"Neither is telling the hotel staff that our father is paying for this venue." Dick commented as he strode over, Mayor Bourgeois right behind him, sweating nervously.

"What do you mean? I don't know what stunt you're trying to pull, but Bruce Wayne will certainly send his lawyers after you lot for trying to pass yourselves off as Wayne's!" Lila snapped, fear flickering across her features, her skin paling a bit.

"Enough with the lies, Miss Rossi, I do not take kindly to those who bully my future daughter in law."

The voice cut sharply through the rising noise of the class beginning to shout at Marinette for setting this scenario up to ruin the party, and the rest of the school whispering to each other that Lila's other promises hadn't come true. Jagged Stone and Clara Nightengale never appeared to play at the party; Nino had been forced to DJ last minute with Lila convincing him to do it for free. Prince Ali never came to dance with Lila. Everything she said never seemed to add up.

But the sight of Bruce Wayne, a tall, handsome, imposing figure, shut everyone up. He made his way towards his sons and Marinette's class, a kind smile forming on his face as he reached Marinette.

"I was wondering where you all had gone. It seems you all neglected to mention to me that you had my sons helping you tonight. You know, I could have chipped in too, Marinette." He patted her head fondly, while Lila started to sweat bullets. Alya, once having found her glasses, though one of the lenses was cracked, put them on and looked over at Bruce Wayne, gasping rather loudly.

"Oh my god, Bruce Wayne! I'm so glad to finally meet you! Can I get an interview on your thoughts of your son Damian getting married to Lila next year? Are you really going to get her shoes made of gold? Will she really take off with him on a horse drawn carriage to their honeymoon in Fiji?" She babbled out, taking her phone out to record the conversation. Though one look from Bruce's icy eyes stopped her dead.

"I believe you need to re-check those sources of yours. I have no idea who this Miss Rossi is, except she has been having large expenses being put down under my name." He growled, while his sons snickered behind him. Lila gulped and began to tremble, never thinking Bruce Wayne would actually find out about those expenses. Most rich people didn't, they just spent money without a care in the world, right?

"Please, there's a misunderstanding..." Lila squeaked out, while Alya saw red, turning on Marinette.

"How dare you! You turned the Waynes on Lila too?! What, did you spread those ostrich legs of yours to corrupt them? God, Marinette, you're the most selfish, cruel, manipulative girl I know!" Alya got right in Marinette's face, reaching out for her. But Damian stepped in her way, a look of murder on his face.

"Touch her and you lose your hands, and I'll have my friend's mother ruin that God damn blog of yours. Lois already hates the sight of it, she's eager to tear it apart." He hissed through clench teeth.

The silence was thick as Bruce turned to Mayor Bourgeois, who was ringing his hands.

"I have no intention of paying for this venue. Everything that she out under my name tonight is to be charged to Miss Rossi, understand?" The cold tone had the mayor nodding and trembling under the Wayne's cold gaze.

"Tom, Sabine." Bruce turned to the couple, and his warm smile returned. "I daresay you both wasted enough time here. How about we all go out for dinner now, hm?"

"You can't do this to me!" Lila sobbed, tears flooding her eyes as she hugged herself, before frantically turning to a shellshocked Alya. "Alya, I can't afford this! You need to help me!"

"It's okay, Lila, Marinette won't get away with this. Adrien still likes you, right? Why not ask his father to cover it? You're his most prized model, remember?" Alya smiled, though her brows were drawn together in uncertainty.

Lila took a moment to smooth down her hair, to calm herself. She mustn't lose control, she could easily turn this on Marinette, on her parents, on the Waynes. She was Lila Rossi, the most adored girl in school. She wouldn't let anything like stupid Marinette the chink ruin this for her.

So with a stunning smile and some words to wave away any doubt, she strode over to her massive birthday cake as the Waynes and Marinette's parents left, announcing it was time for some delicious cake. She was about to cut a slice, when someone (definitely not Juleka) bumped into the table holding the cake. The massive cake wobbled, before it went teetering onto Lila and Alya, splattering them both in cake and buttercream frosting, as well as a ripping down as Alya stumbled and stepped on Lila's dress, causing the material to rip from hem to the top of her bodice.

Marinette could hear their screams of outrage as she entered the Wayne's limo to head out for a nice dinner with her boyfriend and his family

---

The fallout of the entire debacle was a mess, an extreme one. Lila's mother found herself suddenly with bills that almost lead deep into the thousands of euros, as well as some lawsuits from celebrities that caught wind of Lila using their names to get things and into places.

Alya was sent lawsuits after lawsuits by the same celebrities for her lies on her blog, and her parents as well as Nino's were furious when they found out that the two had been sneaking out of babysitting for secret dates, dumping their children onto either Marinette or Lila's lap, the latter being a complete stranger.

But Monday morning had to be the worst. The school was talking about the disaster of a party, of everyone being forced out of the venue since Lila couldn't pay, of Lila accidentally flashing people once her dress hand been ripped in two thanks to Alya. They even spoke of Miss Bustier's class as if they were the plague, and avoided the group in fear of facing any backlash.

When Marinette arrived that morning with Adrien at her side, both were laughing as Marinette carried a stack of papers. When Marinette saw the class, they all looked tired, ashamed. Many got up to beg for her forgiveness, but she merely waved them back to seating, then handed each and everyone one of them a piece of paper. They each read them, noticing that they looked like receipts.

"Hey, Marinette, what are these?" Kim held up his paper, frowning in confusion. Marinette rose a brow and set her hands on her hips.

"Your bills for every event, every cake, every dress or outfit I made any of you for free." She replied flatly, crossing her arms as soon as she sat. Adrien handed a red eyes Lila a piece of paper as well. "Bruce Wayne made me realize that since you all aren't really my friends, I shouldn't have to waste so much money on all of you."

"This is from my father. This is for your official termination." Adrien's smile was bright as Lila began to tremble in anger at the sight of it. "It was nice knowing you, Lila."

The class was on their feet in seconds, shouting in outrage as soon as they saw exactly how high their receipts were asking for. It was over a million for the class as a whole. Marinette raised her left hand to cover a yawn, and Alya caught sight of a rather impressive wedding ring. The reporter pointed at it and cried out in shock.

"You're engaged?!" She screamed, her hand crushing her receipt as she trembled. Hers was the highest out of everyone's. Her parents were going to kill her.

"Yes, just last night. We'll be getting married next year." Marinette shrugged, smiling at Adrien as she motioned to his left hand. "And Adrien and Tim will be getting married soon after graduation."

Everyone stared at the gold band on Adrien's left ring finger, many going pale. Alya worked up a shaky smile.

"W- we can't wait to go, you guys! Congratulations, they'll be the weddings of the century." Her mind already swirled around the possibilities of covering those weddings on her blog, it could save her entire career.

"Oh Alya." Adrien clicked his tongue in disdain, hooking arms with Marinette and the two of them smiled, like wolves about to slaughter the sheep. Then in unison they spoke.

"You all will be too far in debt to even buy a newspaper about our weddings."

And that night, the class suffered the worst grounding they had ever seen, with many bank accounts being drained to scramble and pay back the Dupain-Chengs. Lila and her mother had to file for bankruptcy, and were forced back to Italy thanks to the embassy catching wind of this scandal.

Meanwhile, Damian cuddled with Marinette as they laid under the stars on her roof, their left hands gripped tightly as their engagement rings twinkled softly in the moonlight.

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @ravennightingaleandavatempus @2sunchild2 @crazylittlemunchkin @bee-wrecker @souleateralicestein @loysydark @kceedraws @realrandomposts @alienjoyful @sidessunnybumblebee @persephonebutkore @18-fandoms-unite-08 @suzen23smith @luciferge @theelventhgod @noirdots @space--butterflies @ghostglaceon @magicalfirebird @goggles-mcgee @chocolate1721 @minightrose @bookcrazybby @cupcakeandkisses @mewwitch

#lila salt #alya salt #miraculous salt #daminette #maribat #ml x dc