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iviarellereads · 2 months

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A Wrinkle In Time, Chapter 6 - The Happy Medium

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index for the Time Quintet, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which those don't sound like very useful tools for this sort of rescue mission.

Everyone watches the crystal ball as it moves to another place, still in the Milky Way, where a planet is overcoming the Darkness, and overcomes it fully, returning the planet to peace. Mrs Whatsit, however, is sad about it. When Charles asks, Mrs Whatsit says that was a victory, but a star had to give its life in the process. Mrs Which asks if Mrs Whatsit's incident was recent, and Charles observes aloud that she was a star, then, who did just what they just saw for another place.(1) Charles Wallace offers an embrace and a kiss on the cheek, which Mrs Whatsit accepts. Meg would offer, but feels it would be anticlimactic after Charles.

The Happy Medium slowly falls asleep and starts snoring, sitting up and all. Meg starts asking what's next, but Mrs Who quotes that "[w]alls have ears", and Mrs Whatsit agrees, they should go outside. The Medium wakes and asks if they were leaving without saying goodbye, she was going to offer them refreshments. Mrs Whatsit says they should be going, but Meg realizes how hungry she is. Charles Wallace tells her in a whisper that the Mrs don't need to eat the way humans do.(2)

The Medium offers to do something nice, since the children had to see such horrible things. Meg asks to see her father, but Mrs Which is very clear that they're going there soon enough. The Medium offers to show her mother, then, which Mrs Whatsit says should be fine. Meg asks for Calvin to see his mother, too, and she's not sure if his reaction is "thanks or apprehension". Mrs Which thinks it's a mistake, but allows it all.

Meg asks for Calvin's mother first, but when the Medium zooms into her, she's committing child abuse.(3) The Medium apologizes, and Meg reaches out to Calvin to comfort him, thinking how just yesterday she'd have laughed at anyone who said she'd be doing it now for someone like Calvin, but now it feels as natural as it would to comfort her brother.

Next, the Medium shows Mrs. Murry, writing another letter, probably to Mr. Murry. She lets herself sink into her deep unhappiness, in a way she never lets the children see.

And now the desire for tears left Meg. The hot, protective anger she had felt for Calvin when she looked into his home she now felt turned toward her mother.(4)

Mrs Whatsit murmurs about Mrs Which being right again, and the Medium wails that she only meant to help. Meg reassures her that she really did help, because now Meg's mad, and there's no room for being scared anymore. The Medium, asks the children all to kiss her goodbye, for luck, and asks where they're going so she can watch over them. Mrs Whatsit says they're off to Camazotz, and for the Medium not to upset herself watching a dark planet, but the Medium wants to know what happens to the children, of course. As she falls asleep again, they leave quietly.

Outside, Mrs Which says they must not be frightened, and Mrs Whatsit reminds Meg to stay angry.(5) And, they tesser once more, to Camazotz, which I'm probably going to misspell at least once.

Mrs Whatsit says that the Mrs won't be able to stay, or speak to them, or help, but they can provide small gifts. She gives Calvin a greater strength to his ability to communicate with people, and she gives Meg all her faults, which she will find more useful here, much as she resents them. All she can give Charles is "the resilience of [his] childhood." Mrs Who gives Calvin a hint in the form of a quote from Shakespeare's The Tempest,(6) and Charles one in the form of Goethe which is much more straightforward. But, to Meg, she leaves her glasses, to be used only in "the final moment of peril." Mrs Which simply gives them all a command: go into the town, and do not let themselves be separated.

Charles is confident he can protect Meg, but Mrs Whatsit cautions that Charles faces the greatest danger because of his abilities. He should be particularly cautious of "pride and arrogance". Charles says he's afraid, and Mrs Whatsit says only a fool wouldn't be. Meg, her voice trembling with her own fear, says they should get going, so they do.(7)

The three children enter the town, which is uncanny. Every house is just the same, Meg is even sure they have the same number of the same flowers as each other. The children of each house are playing, all bouncing their balls exactly in sync. Every mother opens the door at the same time to call them back inside. All but one boy, whose ball bounces erratically, and is lost to him. Our three are unsettled AF, but Charles wants to investigate, and Calvin refuses to split the party.

Charles gets the ball and rings the doorbell at the boy's house, and they hear the sound echo down the street. Every door opens at the same time, and every mother's head pops out to listen. The mother of the boy in question is confused, it's not time for the paper delivery, milk delivery's already come, and all her papers are in order. Charles says the boy dropped his ball, and offers it back. The mother is horrified, children on this street don't drop their balls, not ever. Not a single capital-letter Aberration in three years!

Leaning past the mother, despite her protests, Charles offers the ball to the boy, who's about his own age. The boy darts forward to grab it, and runs off. The woman pales and slams the door, followed by every other door up and down the street. Charles couldn't get a read on them, and wonders aloud what they're all so afraid of.

They continue forward, and run into a paper boy on his route, riding a strange combination bicycle-motorcycle. He's curious why they don't know the rules, that they're out when only route boys are allowed. Charles notes that he's quoting from something for his listed regulations.

"The Manual, of course," the boy said. "We are the most oriented city on the planet. There has been no trouble of any kind for centuries. All Camazotz knows our record. That is why we are the capital city of Camazotz. That is why CENTRAL Central Intelligence is located here. That is why IT makes ITs home here." There was something about the way he said "IT" that made a shiver run up and down Meg's spine.(8)

Charles asks where Central Intelligence is, and the boy corrects him, CENTRAL Central Intelligence, before saying they can't miss it if they keep on this road. He starts to ask if they're really not from around here, but Charles asks if the boy should be asking questions, which makes him go pale just like the woman did, and send them on their way.

So, on they continue again, discussing somewhat heatedly what to do next. Charles thinks they should go right to CENTRAL Central Intelligence, as that's surely where Mr. Murry is being held. Calvin is more concerned with how the mother and the paper boy were both very clear about having papers in order, perhaps they need passports or something. But Charles insists, if they needed anything, the Mrs would have provided it.(9)

Charles explains that he's sure they're not robots, they have minds, he just can't access them. He tries one last time.

The three of them stood there very quietly. The doors kept opening and shutting, opening and shutting, and the stiff people hurried in and out, in and out, walking jerkily like figures in an old silent movie. Then, abruptly, the stream of movement thinned. There were only a few people and these moved more rapidly, as if the film had been sped up. One white-faced man in a dark suit looked directly at the children, said, "Oh, dear, I shall be late," and flickered into the building. "He's like the white rabbit,"(10) Meg giggled nervously.

Charles is distraught that he can't reach the people, and then that he might not recognize his father. Meg insists, on the latter count, that he'll recognize his father just like he recognizes Meg, without needing to see her, because he can sense her. This is just what Charles needed to hear, and he's ready to move forward.

Before they go, though, Calvin reminds them of how he was in their path because he had a good feeling he had to be there, just then, to meet them. Well, now he has an opposite feeling, that they're walking into great danger.

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(1) I know some people get annoyed at this sort of explanation, and want the text to trust the reader to figure some things out. I can go either way: sometimes a story that does subtlety and subtext works for me (see: The Locked Tomb) but other times I want a story that doesn't make me work so hard to understand. (2) Never to be addressed again in this chapter, naturally. (3) The story doesn't seem to support the abuse, but there's also… there's not really an indication that it should be stopped. Perhaps we could say, it's a side effect of the Darkness? It feels icky in a way that only feels half intentional to me. (4) This sort of character resonates down through the ages, but the other one that first comes to my mind is Tiffany Aching of the Discworld, who I unfortunately only met as an adult but nevertheless spoke to some of the same parts of me as Meg once did and still does. (5) Not always the best advice, it requires nuance. Don't fight your anger, but find ways to use it that aren't destructive as much as possible. March at protests, make phone calls or write letters to your representatives in government, research and write sourced posts about issues that matter to you. You can't let it eat you up and you can't let it hurt the people around you. But, it's still kind of revolutionary to see any children's book acknowledging that anger isn't inherently bad. (6) The quote is about Ariel, the spirit servant of Prospero the magician. The Tempest is full of illusions, the island is run by Prospero who manipulates the wills of others, and Ariel was imprisoned in the pine where he remains, and Mr. Murry is imprisoned here on Camazotz which parallels the lot. (7) And Meg, of course, is no fool. (8) And it's not just the old Stephen King book or either of the adaptations it's had, since that was written WAY later than this. Funny how many authors in history have chosen to simply capitalize a non-person pronoun as a villain. I have neither affinity nor distaste for the use of it/its for myself or others, but thinking about it seriously as a person-pronoun takes away some of its horrifying consequence as a villain-name. And, use of it as a villain-name reinforces the distaste most people have for it as a person-pronoun. (9) Which raises questions as to how they knew what would be needed. (10) Alice in Wonderland, a touchstone I assume most people are familiar with but still worth establishing just in case.

#madeleine l'engle #time quintet #a wrinkle in time #meg murry #charles wallace murry #calvin o'keefe #mrs whatsit #mrs who #mrs which #the happy medium

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stream-spotify · 4 months

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YouTube for the used vehicle market

YouTube is the second most preferred online search engine in the world next to Google. I personally feel that it is preferable this way because people are naturally careless and watching a video on YouTube is much easier than judging something. Of course, there is the added bonus offer that YouTube is a video clip uploading and sharing site, therefore a video will always be more popular than just images or words. Absolutely, many organizations benefit from YouTube. Services ranging from makeup artists offering tips on precise makeup application to advice on how to find the fastest way around a race track are just two examples of this growing trend acheter des streams spotify.

Many car dealer sites only reveal photos, which if done properly can provide a good assessment of the car. Being able to move around the car, zooming in on small stone chips and other blemishes you get with a used car and truck not only informs individuals about the car's condition, it also helps develop trust and sincerity - something that is usually lacking on the electric motor market.

Having the ability to look at a used car from the comfort of your own home is also important to many people. Usually people don't like to walk into a car showroom for fear of being jumped by a salesperson, so looking at a car online allows them to see a car and get a better idea of its condition in a non-threatening environment. The current problem we face as a car dealer is finding space to film a vehicle. If you ever go to a car dealership, you will probably recognize the absence of available space, and believe it or not, filming a car takes up a lot of space since you have car doors to open and close, and also the is essential that you get the all-important long shot of a car and truck. Another problem we discovered is trying to find time for the very important task of creating videos and then uploading them to the site.

The great feature of submitting cars on YouTube from a business perspective is not only that you get potential customers to watch it (as in we send them the web link after they contact the company), but also individuals who generally have a detailed version that our organization might never have found before. Existing research recommends that the regular car user in the UK and US will spend at least 8 hours on the internet just watching in a car... So no doubt they will probably end up on YouTube as part of one's study plan. There is the reality that we can show cars and trucks to a person who lives in another country and so would never buy from us. It's a free service, and believe me, if we have 200 cars online, each getting 1000 sights, 200,000 people will look at what we offer. Of these 200,000 people, some will certainly live far away, but some will also live near you!

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

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Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing

Part Summary: While Y/N is out shopping with Cara, news breaks that ties her with MGK.

Masterlist

Masterlist

Two days later...

Cara and I go out shopping and have lunch for a girl’s day. I have yet to talk about the other night with Sam. Cara hasn’t mentioned it and I have no plans to either. Cameras have followed us up and down Rodeo Drive. By this point, Cara and I are both used to it. Carrying my bags however, I doubt I look graceful for these videos their taking. Oh well, they have fifteen thousand more of me.

“CARA! EXCITED TO WALK IN THE CHANEL FASHION SHOW?”

Cara ignores the paparazzi and points out a dress in the window at Dolce and Gabbana. I request to go inside to try it on. I’m not sure where I’d wear it to, but that doesn’t really matter.

“Welcome ladies!” A woman in a black dress approaches. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

I point over to the dress in the window, “could I see that in a size six please?”

She leaves us to go find the dress for me and we roam around a small section while she does. My phone rings and I see Nicole’s name pop up. My heart immediately begins to race. She doesn’t call me unless absolutely necessary, usually we text. I step away toward the corner to be discreet.

I answer the call hesitantly. “Nicole? What’s up?”

“I got a call from Stephanie,” she sounds agitated on the other end.

Stephanie is my publicist, she handles everything that Nicole can’t basically. They bicker a lot since they’re both so headstrong and constantly need control. It’s the classic good cop/bad cop scenario, yet I don’t know who’s who. These two cover every aspect of my career, God bless them.

“Oh no, sounds bad,” I grumble anxiously.

“Depends how you look at it,” she lightens her tone.

“What is it?” I press.

“Well…” she hesitates.

“Nicole!” I drag out her name.

“It’s all over social media, magazines and it will be on TMZ tonight,” she stammers. “I’m surprised you haven’t already heard if I’m being honest-”

“Nicole! What?” I rush her.

“An article about you and Colson Baker just dropped on some gossip sight,” she explains. “It says that you and Colson Baker are dating. Stephanie and I figured no one would believe it but it’s everywhere! They have videos and photos of you two leaving The Ivy plus talking by Sam’s car. If I didn’t know you, I would be convinced.”

My head hangs low as I rub my forehead, letting out a deep sigh. “Oh dear God.”

“We can handle it, don’t worry!” Nicole assures. “This story will be gone soon!”

“I need to go, talk to you later!” I hang up on Nicole right when the woman shows me the dress.

“I’ll take it” I attempt to hurry up the process.

Cara comes up next to me “don’t you think you should try it on first?”

“I’ll explain later but we need to go” I whisper to her and just like that, she’s hurry the woman along at the register.

I have the dress and exit the store in a rush. I must act cool, the paparazzi will take notice of my mood change.

“HOW’S COLSON, Y/N?”

“SEEING HIM TONIGHT?”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN DATING?”

“HOW ARE GONNA HANDEL HIS FANS?”

“HAS HE MET THE FAMILY YET?”

“What’s going on?” Cara asks concerned.

“I’ll explain once we’re somewhere private,” I whisper so the cameras don’t pick up on it.

We speed walk to the car and I offer to drive since I made us cut the day short. Once we’re on the highway towards home Cara asks what the heck is going on.

“Why did they keep asking about Colson?”

I turn on the radio and Elvis Duran, along with his team, are discussing no other than me and Colson.

Danielle summarizes the article for the listeners. “The article says they’ve been dating for the past few months. They’re very happy but the relationship is still new. The pair has not yet met each other’s families but Colson is going on tour soon so maybe Y/N will join him and eventually meet the family. Throughout, there are tons of photos of the cute young couple leaving The Ivy Wednesday night. There’s even a link to a video showing them, what appears to be, having a deep conversation by Sam Merka’s car. If you watch the video, the two are clearly looking at each other very lovingly. I mean, he’s looking at her the way I look at a fresh pizza!”

The rest of the cast laughs and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Actually, scratch that, I can believe it. I’m just pissed.

“If MGK and Y/N are officially an item, why did she leave with Sam Merka?” Elvis questions.

“I’m glad you asked! According to sources, they’ve been very close friends since the start of TSL. In fact, the duo have taken many vacations together along with their co-star Penelope Glass.”

Cara turns down the volume and looks to me with a steady expression. “Is it true?”

I narrow my gaze at her in bewilderment. “What? No! There’s no way in hell!”

“Okay, just checking,” she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Never ever!” I add and change the station.

Colson Baker is everything I despise in a person. I’ve never hated someone so fast as I’ve hated him. Us together as a couple is impossible. It’s completely irrational.

_________________________________________________________

Later in the afternoon, Stephanie sets up a meeting for us to meet with Colson and his publicist. I had to drag myself to her office. My Fridays aren’t well spent in an office building with enemies. In fact, my whole day could be tarnished by this incident. The meeting room we’re all ushered into is freezing and I’m still in my sundress from earlier. Cara and I were never able to get lunch so I’m starving on top of being cold. The photos of us play in a slideshow on the meeting room’s tv. An endless cycle of false advertisement is how I see the photos. The media is selling us as something completely far from the truth. On top of everything, I’m in a meeting with the one guy in all of Los Angeles I can’t stand. Death would be less painful than the current situation. I tune out the debate between Stephanie and Colson’s publicist. He told me his name but my brain is so numb from the temperature in here I can’t recall it.

“Y/N!” Stephanie calls my name and I search for her around the room until I find her in the doorway with Colson’s publicist.

“We’re going to go make a few phone calls. You two will stay here while we handle the press.” I nod “sounds good.”

I send her a weak smile to charm her out of an apology for zoning out. She huffs and escorts Colson’s guy to her office so they can talk on speaker privately. I stand up from my office chair and stroll over to the windows overlooking the courtyard. I watch the cars zoom by on the street and businessmen and women shuffle in and out of the Starbucks below.

“If it means anything, I’m sorry,” Colson says quietly behind me.

I nearly miss it, he speaks so quietly. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms as I face him.

“You’re sorry?” I shrug, not really seeing his blame. “Why? It’s not your doing.”

I return my gaze to the chaos below us. I watch as people with office jobs travel about. I wonder if they’ve heard of me? I wonder if they like me or think I’m a stuck up actress? I shouldn’t care what people think, but it’s easier said than done. When millions watch TSL every week, it’s hard to ignore the wondering.

“If I hadn’t walked you to the car none of this would be happening,” Colson reasons guiltily.

I shake my head, finding humor in the situation now. The paparazzi can make nothing into a months long romance. A brief conversation outside a restaurant and suddenly we’re meeting each other’s families.

“We were only walking to a car. How could either of us have predicted the amount of attention that would come of us walking?” I justify, not to ease his mind, but my own.

My flicker over to the tv, I examine the slideshow of us. Examining the photos I realize it wasn’t all in my head, the way in which Colson was gazing at me is a tad bit gawk-like. Images of us walking to the car while I’m answering the paparazzi’s questions depict Colson glancing at me with what seems to be such admiration. A picture of when Cara calls for Colson comes up and I’m stunned by how we look. Even I appear to be in awe of him in return. It’s evident Cara is speaking yet neither of us react. We were so caught up within on another.

“I have one question!” I blurt out suddenly with my arms crossed I walk back over to the table. Just one and then I wish to put all of today’s events to rest.” Colson perks up and hums for me to continue. I point over to the photos on the screen “why did you look at me the way you did?”

Turning his head, he reviews the photos blankly and I wait anxiously for some sort of reason. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way,” he disregards my accusations.

I chuckle, amused by his horrible way of lying. “Lies!”

He’s thrown off by my reaction and I storm over to the TV screen to point it out to him.

“It’s clear as day to the press, the public and now me included. You’re clearly lost in some kind of thought! You were there, so was I and our friends! Say all the lies you want but you’ll never convince anyone.”

His jaw clenches and he avoids my gaze. He leans back in his chair, staring out the windows. “Colson,” I sigh, slowly approaching the table. “Maybe the truth could help the lies disappear! If we’re honest then maybe the press will leave us alone!”

He shakes his head low, letting out a brief laugh. “I highly doubt that.”

I have a thousand questions but I’m aware none will go answered. He’s a lost cause. I’m in this alone I guess. Turning my back to him I return to my position by the window. Observing the worker bees swarming around the spaces below. The sound of Colson’s chair rolling back comes from behind me but I don’t even shift. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his figure in the reflection of the window beside me. My attention remains outside. He won’t give me the time of day so why should I treat him any better?

“You wanna know why I looked at you the way I did?” His presence hovers of me and he feels like a wall surrounding me.

“Please,” I mutter a subtle beg.

“I... I had this imagine of you in my head, pre-judgements. You’re supposed to be America’s Sweetheart, Little Miss Perfect! You told me you had been working for this for years, had drive and trails.” He confesses. “You’re not what I expected... It caught me by surprise is all.”

My eyebrows furrow close, “So you thought I was just some pretty face, goody-two-shoes, ditz? If it’s because my image, my past, you said so yourself it doesn’t matter!”

“No, no, that’s not it!” he runs his hand through his hair nervously.

Narrowing my eyes, I press further. “Why then?”

The door swings open and I straighten up before forcing a warm smile to my face. I step back from Colson before the person ever appears in the doorframe. One of Stephanie employees informs us that we’re free to go. Steph doesn’t want to keep me here all day and since I’m allowed to go Colson’s publicist is releasing him. I clasp my hand together, walking over to fetch my purse.

“Thank you so much!” I gush. “Have a good day and please tell Stephanie “thank you!””

The young intern eats up my pleasant expressions. “You too Miss Voss! Will do!”

The young woman shuts the door behind her and I return to the state I was in. Expressionless, I gather my belongings and Colson does the same. Checking my phone for any missed emails or calls I can tell he’s staring me down.

“Does it ever get tiring?” His tone is light, but I can hear the ounce of mockery beneath the surface.

My attention is locked on my phone as text after text pops up from Penelope. She’s more likely than not has seen all the articles and Twitter posts. I should call her and explain.

“Y/N!” Colson shout pulls my from my thoughts.

“Huh? Does it ever get tiring?” I restate his question back to him. “What exactly are we talking about?”

I slide my purse over my shoulder while stepping over to the door, leaving Colson behind. That is until he follows me.

“Your whole act.” He forces a fake smile and tosses imaginary hair over his shoulder. “The “happy go-lucky goody goody All-American girl?””

I scoff, eyeing him up and down. “You’re ridiculous. It’s not an act.”

I swing open the meeting room door, eager to leave here. My heels clink against the white shiny tiles on my walk to the elevators. After hitting the down button, I call up Blake now that I have some time to kill. She’s my oldest friend, I’m sure she sees right through all of the tabloids and is only checking in.

“Calling your boyfriend?” Colson mutters over my shoulder and I quickly move away.

“Don’t have one,” I answer plainly, waiting for Penelope to pick up.

He smirks and props himself up against the wall beside the elevator doors. I side eye him, all he does is smile all the time and he calls me out for acting so happy all the time.

“Can’t you find anyone else to annoy?”

He grins proudly, “sure I could. None would as entertaining as you though.”

“Geez,” I mumble under my breath.

I pace outside the elevators as I wait for one to arrive and for Penelope to answer. Classic of her to text me non-stop but not to answer when I call her back. The elevator doors open and I step inside, ready to get out of here. I hit the ground floor and Colson strolls in lazily not rushed at all. He checks the button and doesn’t add any. The doors shut then silence sits flat in the small space with us. My phone buzzes continuously, I check the name at the top of the screen.

“Frickin’ frackin’!” I clench my teeth together in a growl.

Colson’s eyes widen at my sudden explosion. Closing my eyes, I exhale to calm myself then bring the phone up to my ear. Smiling helps to fake enjoyment when talking to someone on the phone. Sometimes I can fool myself into thinking I’m not miserable during discussions.

“Finn!” I greet. “What’s new?”

My southern accent surfaces. I flip the switch whenever I speak to my family or friends back in South Carolina. I can’t have them thinking I’m not the same Y/N from Charleston. Colson eyes me with his eyebrows raised, surprised by my sudden transition. He makes fun of me in a whisper for my fake enthusiastic voice. I wack him on the arm and it only encourages him more.

“Hi ya Y/N, uh so ya prolly already know butcha face is everywhere along with this MGK fella...” Finn’s voice falters at the end.

I sigh and press my forehead to the wall. Finn asks me if any of what he has read is true and I instantly deny.

My tone goes timid, “who all knows?”

“Just us, Odelle, Greyson and Myself,” he assures.

A sense of relief rushes over me. I turn back around and Colson sends me a sympathetic look, it shocks me. Going from mockery to sympathy from him has my entire mood shifting.

“What ‘bout Momma or Daddy?” I ask, keeping eye contact with Colson.

“Nah, at least I don’t think they do,” Finn guesses. “I’m not entirely sure. Greyson is sayin’ they don’t. He’s the only one that’s home at the moment.”

“Heavens to Betsy,” I exhale deeply, looking up to the heavens. “Let’s hope to the high heavens they don’t. Thank you Finn.”

I go to hang up but he says one last thing. Bringing my phone back up to my ear I reply. “Sorry, missed that.”

My brother becomes stern on the other side, “do you and this guy spend tons of time together?”

I shift uncomfortably, preparing myself for the older brother advice I already see coming. “From time to time but I promise, we’re just friends.”

There’s a pause on his end, an unbearable pause. “I trust you Y/N,” Finn finally speaks. “It’s him I don’t trust. He’s not the best sort of guy. Ya’ll aint right for one another.”

I hope Colson can’t hear any of what Finn is saying. To keep him from becoming suspicious, I keep my replies indifferent. “Sure thing. Uh, talk ya later Finn.”

“Bye, talk to you soon.”

We hang up and I slip my phone into my purse.

Colson leans back onto the railing next to me. “Who was that?”

“My older brother, kinda overbearing,” I laugh nervously then bite my lip. My accent begins to subside again.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Colson remarks.

A faint smile appears across my lips thinking of my brothers. “I have two actually and an older sister. The order is Finn, Odelle, me then Greyson.”

Colson returns a kind and gentle smile. “That must’ve been nice to grow up with so many siblings.”

“It was.” I nod as memories flash across my mind. “Finn and Odelle were grouped together and so was me and Greyson since our age gaps are less.”

As we pass each level on the elevator there is a “ding.” Facing toward the doors again, I absentmindedly watch the numbers go down as we pass the levels. My mind wanders to the many memories I’ve made with my brothers and sister.

“Finn is about Sam’s age, so he likes to believe he’s almost a co-parent for me and Grey,” I describe with a pleased expression. “He’s the total opposite of Odelle.”

Colson genuinely shows interest, “how is she?”

“She’s a total wild card! We all joke that it’s every other kid. Finn and I are the rule followers. He was student body president, quarterback of the football team and still managed to graduate with honors. I’m nowhere near him on the perfect child spectrum but I’m supposed to be “America’s Sweetheart.” My parents eat that up. Then there’s Odelle, she’s the total opposite of Finn. My parents had to beg her to improve her grades so she could graduate. I remember being twelve, it was the middle of the night when I got up to get a drink. I went downstairs and saw her sneaking out of the backdoor. She made me promise not to tell our parents. I haven’t talked about it until today. There were days she’d fake being sick just to ditch school with her friends. By her senior year nothing had changed. She ended up graduating but my parents forced her to go to a college close to home so they could keep an eye on her. Her antics continued the entire time I was in high school. College for her was a playground. For some reason, I envied her. I still do. I suppose it’s because no one expects anything from her. She messes up, well, that’s Odelle for you. She causes trouble, just another day. For me, my parents have me up on a peddle stool. By the time I turned sixteen people out here started taking notice of me. When I reached seventeen the title of “America’s Sweetheart” popped up and from then on, I was longer a teenager. I had a role to play and an image to uphold. I could never make mistakes like Odelle. I have to be “perfect” constantly. Sometimes I feel like a doll, plastic. None of it is real.”

The bell rings for the floor. I comprehend the words escaping my mouth and snap back to reality. I revealed so much about myself while I was in that daze, private facts about myself that I’ve never spoken of before.

Straightening up and adjust my dress, I apologize. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what came over me.” The doors slide open and I step out. “Good to see you Colson,” I rush out a farewell before speed walking towards the exit.

I mentally slap myself for all I confessed. If only Nicole found out, my head would be on a stick. My life, my background, every aspect of my being is supposed to be flawless. An All-American girl from South Carolina with a wholesome up brining is who I’m supposed to be. If word gets out that I’m not so perfect then… then I would be finished. My hand digs for my keys in my purse.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Colson jogs up next to me then steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“Colson, please....” I practically plead in a mutter, stepping around him.

He wraps his hand around my wrist, stopping me. “Let me buy you a drink!”

Workers around us walk around in multiple directions like zombies. I wonder if they’re taking notice. Hesitant, I narrow my gaze at me. The reason we’re in this mess is because we were seen with one another.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I admit and release myself from his grip.

I only make it a few feet before he’s in front of me again.

“Fine, no to a drink! How about we go get some coffee? Or tea? If you prefer tea!”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, his desperation is evident. The reason behind is desperation is still unknown to me, along with the reason he looked at me the way he did last night. Who is this mysterious man who stands before me? So many questions I wish to ask but I can’t get passed his eyes. Puddles of crystal blue settle on a white canvas. Confused beyond belief, for a reason unbeknownst to me, I accept. Could be my curiosity is getting the best of me.

“Coffee it is,” I give in to his request.

He grins ear to ear and steps to the side so we can leave side by side. “Unless of course you prefer we get tea!” he suggests, sounding a tad nervous.

Honestly I like both drinks but I prefer coffee. He holds the door for me and the bright sunlight of California weather strikes me.

“Nah, I normally drink a cold brew with a shot of espresso,” I describe.

He winces and pretends to gag. “Ew! That sounds horrible!”

“It gives you a boost in the morning! Nice and strong!” I laugh.

“You’re nasty!” He waves his hands in disgust.

“Eh, you’ve called me worse,” I laugh, unfazed by his insult.

He chuckles, “you’re not wrong.”

Our laughing dies down a little as we stroll over to the Starbucks. I peer up at him with a side eye. When our eyes meet we begin laughing again uncontrollably.

___________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa56 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxrl @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresixx @Thysagclub @hockeybabe87

#mgk smut #mgk imagine #mgk fanfic #mgk #mgk aesthetic #machine gun kelly #colson baker #colson #machine gun kelly fanfic #imagine #fanfic

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ready-to-obeyme · 4 years

Text

[OM!] College!AU Zoom University Headcanons

For the 7 Demon Brothers + Solomon

Scenario: Headcanons about how you interact with the demon brothers online during online lectures via Zoom (an online video platform that universities have been using to teach classes) and their habits using it

Notes: gn!MC, Considering most universities (including mine) are all online AGAIN fall quarter and we’re going to be using Zoom forever……. i kinda wish i DID have online classes with the demon boys (and Solomon)

Lucifer

Video off, mic off, no profile pic just the typical first and last name, so you don’t really talk to him but you do see his name pop up in the Zoom chat to ask clarification questions

Accidentally has his mic on sometimes

First time you interact with him is when you private message him “hey, I think your mic is still on” because everyone can hear his brothers arguing in the background

The mic is soon turned off and you get a response back “thanks. Sorry you had to hear all of that”

“Yeah no prob. How many brothers do you have anyways?”

“Too many.”

Thus starts your relationship with him as zoom buddies, asking each other privately what the professor just said and some clarification questions

If you’re shy about asking stuff, he has no problems asking for you; never makes you feel dumb about your questions

first time you hear his voice during midterm season when the professor doesn’t see your messages (“you’d expect them to know how this all works by now” he messages you dryly) and he asks his question out loud before the professor can move on

(lowkey think he’s hot just from his voice)

Then highkey finds out he’s hot when his video is accidentally on for a few seconds when he’s distracted with Asmo or Mammon in the background

Bonus points if you tease him about it

Shows up at office hours when the TA is late and you just talk to him, exchange emails and numbers ;) y’know for homework help

If you’re going to do group projects, he seeks you out first-- god forbid he’s stuck with someone who doesn’t do the work ONLINE

Mammon

Mic is ALWAYS accidentally on until the professor mutes him or tells him to mute himself

“Oh, sorry prof!!! My b!!”

Private messages you on purpose to ask a clarification question because he doesn’t want to seem dumb asking it to everyone or to the professor

You wonder why he chose you but then you realize it’s because you had asked a question yourself earlier in the lecture or answered a question

It becomes a recurring thing-- like EVERY lecture

If you’re not annoyed at him, then you might suggest that the two of you share a document for notes or tease him about just having you teach the lecture if he’s confused

“Actually, that sounds great!” he types to you before you could say jk “that’d help me a lot, thanks!!”

Smh why did you sign up for more work for yourself but oh well, he seems like a nice guy

Is also a very attractive guy, you realize, when you schedule a zoom meeting with him and actually see his face

Realizes why he keeps asking questions is because he plays card games on a split screen instead of paying attention to lecture (same tho)

Invites you to join him by private messaging you a link to join (and you do eventually when lectures gets boring)

Sometimes sends the invite link to the whole class by accident

He admits he wouldn’t even attend lecture and would just watch the recording but you’re always there so he goes

Which means you suppose you should keep going to lecture if anything to have him go as well

Leviathan

Already the master of online classes tbh and has no problem with the format

Finds it kind of annoying when there’s technical difficulties, but he just quickly switches to a tab to watch anime

Probably is just watching anime on another tab if the lecture gets boring or slow anyways

He’s always the first one to answer forum/discussion posts because he’s just very tech-savvy and good at replying to people

First interaction is probably him answering one of your questions on the discussion question and from then on after you start messaging him privately during lecture when you have a question you think he can help with

A little hesitant on helping you, but you’re also just really nice to him so he’s okay with helping you, I guess

Give him your email? Why? So he can send you the book pdfs and previous practice tests of course, why else??

O-Oh, you want to add him on social media? Just to ask for homework questions right? Okay, yeah, sure! o////o

If video is on, you see the reflection of anime in one of his mirrors and casually ask him which episode he’s on

Has never been so shook or attentive in his LIFE

Satan

He is a godsend during every breakout room because he ACTUALLY TALKS instead of leaving you in a quiet room alone with three other strangers

You think you’re lowkey in love with him when he has no problems volunteering to present to the professor and putting his thoughts into words so eloquently

He also appreciate you talking during discussion too, and enjoys the conversations the two of you have while you’re not even sure the other blank profile pics are even there anymore

He’s the one to suggest making a shared doc to share notes and study together-- the man is productive and efficient about this, what can I say?

Manages to convince you to go to office hours with him and meet up for studying hours and ooooh he’s hot

He’s actually a very good study buddy, especially when he’s teaching you something you’re confused about, but also just good to study together with (when you’re not too busy staring at him)

The only reason why you’re focused during class because he’d look disappointed at you if you weren’t-- that’s on you for caring about what he thinks, but he’s just so PUT TOGETHER how do you NOT look up to him?

Finds out that he’s actually just a mess like everyone else when his brothers come in during one of your study session and he says “excuse me,” mutes the mic and goes off screen; you can see some shadows in the back as satan shoves his brothers out of the room and manhandles them till they leave

Is kind of embarrassed he forgot to turn of video too but you just think it’s funny because you relate to the lack of privacy of online classes (and perhaps annoying siblings)

Asmodeus

How the hell does he look awake and lively at a 9am lecture class????

Is that make up??? Is he… wearing PANTS??? (you don’t remember the last time you put on actual pants)

The most functional-looking person in the entire zoom lecture, asides from the professor

Has video on all the time-- because honestly why wouldn’t he? He actually looks good

Definitely not paying attention most of the time, and you see it on his face

Messages you first when you actually wear something nice for once because you’re going to go to the supermarket afterwards

“Ooh, where’d you get that accessory??”

The two of you end up not paying attention AT ALL and instead just gush about each other’s outfits

Definitely is not afraid to ask for your social media so you can follow each other and ask for homework help I guess but MAINLY to talk to each other because online classes can get sooooo tedious

Really really wants to be able to meet you in person someday when it’s safe (“we’d look so cute together!!!”) but settles for facetime or zoom meet-ups

Really does not hesitate to make friends and make the best out of social situations despite remote format bless him

The only time he doesn’t turn on video is after a night of drinking with his brothers (“it was mammon’s birthday” he types into the chat with you, “ugh i’m probably going to go lie down, let me know how lecture goes”)

Beelzebub

Always eating-- even if this wasn’t online, he’d also be the one to bring snacks-- his whole LUNCH to class to eat so this isn’t too surprising

You think it’s hilarious when he actually brings his laptop or phone (whatever he’s using zoom with) to the kitchen and literally makes dinner during the lecture

Sometimes you watch his tiny video of him putting stuff into the oven than the lecture slides and you bet your entire class is doing that too

Sometimes you ask him jokingly what he’s cooking and you’re surprised when he pauses and answers your question mid-dinner making

“Lasagna. You want some?”

“Yeah send it over through mail bro”

You don’t actually know if he’s actually retaining any lecture information, but apparently he’s doing decent enough-- still, if you offer to share your notes, he’d be so grateful

“Where do you live?”

“Ldfjalskjd why are you going to send me food?”

“Yeah. What’s your address? I’ll send you a box of cookies or something.”

Basically he just does NOT care what the entire class sees him doing; he could be cooking, eating, working out-- he’s listening to the lecture out loud but he’s giving you a show (whether it’s a cooking show or a work out video depends on the time of day)

Belphegor

If the lectures are recorded, you’ll never see him, especially if the class is early in the morning LOL

If you do see him during lecture and video is on, he’s always in his pajamas or sleep clothes, a pillow in front of him

During discussion, if video is required, he probably has a screenshot of himself awake as a profile picture so he can snooze away pretending like he’s actually there

You definitely notice because he’s the first video to show up in your gallery and his video is like never moving HAHA

You finally message him when the TA splits you all into breakout rooms when you’re all supposed to be finding the answer or discussing something to be shared later

Kind of awkward at first because he’s like… asleep, but when he wakes up blearily, he does participate-- if only for your sake and for discussion points

“Hey… wake me up if the TA or professor asks us any questions, will ya?” he says as he puts his head down and sleeps

Since you and him are now officially breakout room buddies, you message him when you have a question and know that he’ll probably respond to you by the end of class because he actually knows the material despite sleeping through half of the class

Is actually very appreciative of you that you volunteer to speak on behalf of your breakout room if no one else does because that means HE doesn’t have to do it

Bonus:

Solomon

The one to make the groupchat/slack link and send it to everyone in the class so we could actually help each other in the class

Shares a link to a google folder with resources

Highkey more useful than a TA sometimes

Super helpful, efficient, and charismatic… but suspiciously so

Like where did he get all these pdfs? Where did he get all these 100% test from previous years? And-- is that an answer key??? To what???

Video isn’t on ever, so you have no clue what he looks like… until you’re in the same discussion as him and he turns on his video for breakout rooms

He always, ALWAYS sits at the island in the kitchen and sips coffee whenever you have discussion with him

Responds back to you almost immediately if you ask him questions during lecture (because honestly, why not-- he seems smart and has his life together) but if anyone messages him in the groupchat, surprisingly takes a while to reply… maybe he’s busy?

Anyhow you’re not gonna question it; you’re gonna pass this class and Solomon is carrying everyone to an A+

#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me #ZOOM UNIVERSITY BABY

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thatsamericano · 3 years

Text

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano. Background Gerita, and Seborga and Prussia are there too. Very brief appearances from Denmark and Lithuania in the video, as well as a ton of other characters who don’t get lines.

Rating: Teen, but only for cursing. Very fluffy, and no warnings to speak of.

Word Count: 2518

Summary: America sends Romano a special video for his birthday. He isn’t Elvis Presley, but it’s the best rendition of the song Romano’s ever heard.

A/N: I wanted to post something fluffy for Romano’s birthday. This will be up on AO3 soon.

It had been a nice, quiet birthday for Romano so far. Feli’s macho potato had dropped by to spend the day with him, and Prussia had tagged along too. Savino was glad Gilbert and Marcello were here, because otherwise he would’ve been stuck third-wheeling the sappiest couple in the world on his own birthday. Spain and Belgium had said they would arrive in a couple hours, which Romano was looking forward to as well. Most of the people who had sent his little brother a happy birthday message had remembered to send one to him too. America had sent them both silly e-cards, and the gifts he’d sent had arrived a week early and would be unwrapped along with all the others after they frosted the cake.

Romano was not lonely, especially not for someone who would’ve had to fly across a whole ocean to see him. He only threw a spatula at Germany’s head when he leaned in to kiss Feli right after he put the cake in the oven because the sight of the potato bastard kissing his little brother grossed him out to no end.

Feliciano pouted at him. “Fratello, that wasn’t very nice of you.”

“I had to stop you two before I lost my appetite. I want to actually be able to eat a slice of cake later!”

Germany muttered something under his breath, and Seborga giggled while Prussia ruffled his hair. “Relax, Savi. It’s your birthday.”

Romano shoved Gilbert’s hand away. “I’m relaxing just fine, damn it.” He walked over to the counter to check his phone, which had received a few new messages since he and Feli had started making their joint birthday cake.

As he was reading a message from New Zealand (who seemed to be confused by the time difference and hoped their message had arrived on time), a new text popped up on his phone. From America.

“Huh, that’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Marcello asked.

“America sent me a link to a Youtube video.” Alfred liked to upload a lot of strange things on Youtube, including cooking videos with his twin, recordings of him prank calling England, and the occasional stunt that would’ve turned Savino’s hair gray if he’d aged like a human. Seriously, what the fuck had possessed him to surf down a staircase on a fucking ironing board?

The message before the link was cryptic as hell. Happy bday. Here’s an extra present for you. 😉 Hope you enjoy.🎶 Knowing America, Romano wouldn’t have been too surprised if he’d opened up the link and seen that one Rick Astley song the idiota still thought was funny to send to people. But Feli immediately got excited about it.

“Oh, he finally sent you the video! I thought he’d do that a month ago!”

Prussia smirked as Feli rushed over to them. “Nah, Al had always planned to upload it today.”

Germany came over with a subtle hint of a smile on his face, like he knew what all this was about too. At least Marcello still looked baffled as he leaned over to get a look at Savino’s phone.

“What the fuck are you assholes up to?” Savino didn’t like this feeling. He didn’t like that everyone except his baby brother had been plotting something behind his back.

“It isn’t bad, Romano,” Germany promised. “Just open the link and you’ll see.”

Romano didn’t trust Germany further than he could throw him, and the guy was way too heavy for him to even lift. But if Germany thought it was okay, it probably wasn’t a video involving the kinds of ridiculous shenanigans America liked to film, and it certainly was nowhere near as heart-attack inducing as some of the videos he’d seen Fredo post (especially if Prussia or Denmark were egging him on). Savino squinted at Ludwig suspiciously before he clicked on the link.

It wasn’t Rick Astley. The video started with a black screen. “No, Gil, you’re supposed to press the red button!” The voice sounded like Denmark.

“Magnus, I pressed the red button!” That was Prussia.

“Guys, maybe we could use my iPhone instead?” America asked. His voice sounded uncharacteristically strained and nervous. “The quality won’t be as good, but at this point Vinny’s probably given up anyway.”

Suddenly, the image of a white dress shirt with a navy tie (and an inexplicable ukulele) appeared on the screen. The camera zoomed out a little, and he could see Alfred smiling at him in a crowded bar with many nations Romano knew well, and many who were only acquaintances. Denmark rushed past him, but Romano could scarcely take his eyes off America. He was wearing the same outfit he’d seen him in on the day of the last world meeting he’d attended a couple months ago in Berlin, and he was cradling a ukulele in his arms. His warm smile, as always, made Romano’s heart skip a beat. But there was a hint of anxiety in his crystal blue eyes, and that made Romano wish he was there to talk to America and help him with whatever seemed to be bothering him.

“Hey, Vinny! Right now it’s still January, but by the time I upload this video, it will be your birthday, so happy birthday, dude! I hope you’re having a good day with your brothers.” He chuckled. “You guys will probably need a huge cake if you’re gonna blow out all your birthday candles.”

Romano rolled his eyes. “That’s what numbered candles are for, idiota,” he murmured.

“Anyway, I know I’m not the best singer in the world—” Prussia snickered from behind the camera and America glared at him sharply before relaxing back into the smile he’d had on his face before. “But I’ve been practicing this song a lot, so hopefully you’ll like it.”

Romano wondered which song it was. If it was the Italian version of “Happy Birthday,” America wouldn’t need a ukulele, and this video would not be three and a half minutes in length.

America started strumming the ukulele, and it wasn’t the “Happy Birthday” song. Savino vaguely recognized the melody, and apparently Feliciano knew what the song was, because he was bouncing next to him and muffling squeals behind his hand. Savino was tempted to smack him, but that would involve looking away from his phone.

Then, America started to sing in a shaky but surprisingly clear voice, staring straight at the camera. “Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

Marcello gasped. “He didn’t!”

“Oh, he totally did,” Prussia replied smugly.

Savino was too emotional to talk. He teared up as Alfred continued with the next line. “But I can’t help falling in love with you.” Fredo’s voice was full of sincerity, like he actually meant it, like he actually loved him. For so long, Romano had assumed his feelings for America were completely one-sided, that he would have to ignore them as much as possible, vainly hope they might disappear, and move on with his life as best he could. But clearly, he had been wrong, and the proof was that America was serenading him with a love song. On his birthday.

America started walking backwards with his ukulele, and Prussia’s camera followed him. At the end of the first verse, he’d reached a booth with Spain, Portugal, Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg. They all held up signs wishing him a happy birthday in various languages as they sang the last line together. Spain waved and Belgium winked at the camera, and America grinned as he kept walking through the bar.

He briefly stopped by other groups of people to allow them to hold up signs wishing Romano a happy birthday as he sang. Russia, his sisters, and Canada. Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia and Poland. Hungary, Austria, Germany, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein. China, Japan, Taiwan, Vietnam, and South Korea. France, Monaco, all the UK countries, and Ireland. Australia, New Zealand, Seychelles, and Kenya. Greece, Turkey, and Egypt. All the Nordics too. It was the sweetest, most romantic thing anyone had ever done for Romano. America must have gone to so much effort to orchestrate something like this, to gather so many countries together in one bar in Berlin and convince them to go along with his plan. Savino smiled as he kept watching the video. Maybe Alfred wasn’t as good a singer as Elvis Presley or any of the many people who had covered this song, but his performance was heartfelt, and Savino loved every second of it.

Near the end, all of the countries sang the line “For I can’t help falling in love with you” together and held up their happy birthday signs. The bartender and some confused humans sang along with them. Savino laughed as Alfred chuckled sheepishly in the video, cheeks turning pink because this was an unusually public spectacle, even for him.

Alfred repeated the final chorus and sang with just him and the ukulele, as he had begun the song. “Take my hand, take my whole life too.” His eyes were shining with tears, and not the happy kind Savino had been shedding since the second line of the song. “For I can’t help falling in love with you.” He repeated the final line then took a deep breath.

“So, yeah. That uhh… wasn’t just a song.” America glanced off to the side. “I’ve kinda been hopelessly in love with you for a while.”

“About 90 years, give or take!” a tipsy voice shouted from off camera. It sounded just like Lithuania, the few times he’d had a little too much to drink at a speakeasy back when he, America, and Romano all lived together. Romano remembered those days fondly.

America hunched his shoulders with a pained look on his face. “Yeah. What Tolys said. You mean a lot to me, Vinny, both as a friend and possibly more, if you want that. If you just wanna stay friends, that’s cool. I hope you liked the song. Happy birthday.”

The screen abruptly cut to black, and the video ended. Savino wiped his eyes and looked up at Feliciano. “This is… this is why we had to fly back right away, isn’t it? Our boss didn’t call you.”

Feli shook his head. “I lied. America asked me to lie so he could surprise you with that video.”

“I can’t believe he did that for me.” Part of Savino felt like he didn’t deserve it, but a much bigger part of him was too selfish to care about what he did or didn’t deserve. He just wanted to be happy. “I wish he was here,” Romano confessed quietly. “I wish I could tell him I feel the same way.” And he wanted to kiss away every tear that idiota had ever cried over him, which was long overdue.

Savino ignored his little brothers cooing over what he had just said and tried not to bristle at the fact that even Germany seemed to think it was adorable. Prussia, weirdly enough, was too busy texting on his phone to join in on the overbearing fawning.

Gilbert chuckled at something on his phone. “Alfred’s a lot closer than you think. He decided to skip the Saint Paddy’s Day parade this year.” He grinned up at Romano, who instantly got the message. Alfred wasn’t celebrating with his Irish-American citizens. He was here in Italy, and it wouldn’t take much effort for Romano to find him.

He sprinted to his front door and flung it open. Alfred, who had been standing with his back to the front door, turned around to face him. “Vinny, I…”

Savino was too impatient to let him get another word out. He tugged on the collar of his emerald green t-shirt and sealed their mouths together. Alfred made a muffled sound of surprise and started kissing him a couple seconds later. He wrapped an arm around his waist, and Savino could feel that he was holding something wrapped in cellophane in his hand. He didn’t give a fuck what it was. He didn’t give a fuck about anything except the fact that Alfred was grinning against his mouth as he reluctantly pulled away for air.

Alfred’s face was flushed, and he had to reach up to fix his glasses. “Wow. This t-shirt never worked before.”

Savino glanced down at the shirt, which read “Kiss Me, I’m Irish!” (of course it did) and snorted. “I didn’t kiss you because of a fucking t-shirt logo. I kissed you because I watched that birthday video you sent me, which was the most adorable goddamn thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“So you liked the song, huh?”

“I loved the song. And I love you too, Fredo.”

He heard sniffling, and it couldn’t have been Alfred, who was beaming at him like every prayer he’d ever uttered had been answered just by Savino saying those words to him. And the sniffling noise was coming from behind him. At least one person had followed Romano to the front door, but Romano had been too focused on America to notice.

Romano tensed up as America laughed and put an arm around his shoulder. “Germany, are you crying, dude?”

“I… I’m verklempt. That was a beautiful moment.” Savino glanced over and saw that Germany wasn’t the only one. Veneziano, Seborga, and Prussia were all standing in the entryway, and they all looked misty-eyed.

Romano groaned and turned to bury his face in America’s ridiculous t-shirt. “Seriously, did you come out here to fucking spy on us?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” America squeezed his arm around him in a silent gesture of support. He could probably tell how embarrassed Romano was.

“Well, you were the one who decided to run out the front door suddenly,” Marcello said teasingly. “You can’t blame us for wanting to see what was going on.”

Veneziano piled on. “It’s nice of you to visit us on our birthday, America. You can come inside if you want, or you can stay out here and kiss Savi some more.”

Romano growled and turned to shoot vicious glares at both of his brothers, but America didn’t seem bothered at all. “As tempting as it sounds to stand here and kiss Vinny all day, I think I’ll come inside.” He dropped his arm from around Savino’s shoulders and presented him with the floral bouquet he somehow hadn’t noticed earlier in his mad dash to the door. “These are for you.”

“Grazie.” Savino smiled as he bent his head to sniff the bouquet of red roses mixed with white lilies. The symbolism wasn’t lost on him.

“Anything for you,” America whispered, too quietly for the others to hear. He pressed a kiss to Savino’s cheek, grabbed his wheeled suitcase, and dangled out his free hand as they headed into the house behind the others.

Romano grabbed America’s hand and laced their fingers together. This was the best birthday he’d ever had, and it was due in no small part to the fact America was holding his hand right now and smiling like he was the one who had received everything he ever wanted.

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ultimate-kaisa-simp · 3 years

Text

Ok so this took a while to write, but hopefully it doesn’t suck!

This is a re-write of season 2 episode 3 with @kaminos-hangout-corner’s The Mum Swap AU.

It skips going through the actual labyrinth, but i does do the before and after.

Very angsty because is there another way to write?

Might do a follow up if people ask but it probably won’t be as long as this one (2044 words!!)

Without further ado, hope you enjoy!

Hilda and Frida hid behind a cart full of books as they watched the librarian approach three women sitting at a very tall table. When none of the three made any move to speak, the librarian took a step forward, earnest expression on her face.

“Honored Council, does you calling me here today mean you’ve reconsidered my request?”

Her tone was so pleading, so vulnerable, that the three women - the council, Hilda guessed - shared matching looks of pity before they schooled their faces into stern expressions.

“Unfortunately not Johanna. We have called you here for a separate matter entirely. 29 years, 364 days and 22 hours ago, The Skeleton Whisperer was checked out. As the Keeper- sorry, the librarian, after 30 years the responsibility for the missing book passes to you.”

A book floated off the cart and towards the council as the woman on the left waved her wand shaped like a rose. Or maybe it was a rose, Hilda couldn’t tell from where she was hiding. She was so entranced by the show of magic Frida had to pull her down so they wouldn’t be seen.

“But I wasn’t even the librarian then! That was-”

Johanna’s protests died off and the council members were all looking sympathetic again? Hilda didn’t know what was going on, but she intended to find out. If it weren’t for Frida’s hand on her arm keeping her down, she would have already jumped out.

“We understand, and as a non-witch, we can’t throw you into the Void of No Return, but we would have to fire you. Do you have the card with you?”

Johanna nodded and reached into her pocket, only to find it was empty.

“I swore I had it in here, maybe the other one?”

Her checking got more frantic until Frida jumped out from behind the cart waving the card, dragging Hilda out with her.

“It says Pilqfvist! M. Pilqvist!”

Johanna turned towards them as the council reeled back in shock.

“Hilda? Frida? What are you two doing here?”

As Hilda took a deep breath to tell her the whole long story, the middle council witch cut her off.

“It doesn’t matter what they’re doing here! Non-witches! In the Witches Tower! It’s unheard of!”

Johanna crossed her arms and turned back to the council with a huff.

“I’m a non-witch, and you called me here. And I come here with some regularity. So I wouldn’t say it’s ‘unheard of’.”

The middle witch was about to say something else when the witch on the left cut her off.

“Well you were always a special case Johanna,” the witch smiled. “But the point remains that the clock is ticking and these two followed you here. Luckily for you, we know where you can find Matilda Pilqvist.”

Johanna smiled back up at the witch as Hilda and Frida went to stand beside her, handing her the card as they did so.

“Thank you Abigail,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Is it nearby? I won’t be able to open any portals to get there if it’s not.”

All three witches winced before Abigail waved her wand. Nothing happened for a few seconds before a different wand came zooming into the room. Abigail floated down onto the floor as she took hold of it, drawing a rectangle in the air while chanting. Once the shape was complete, she stepped back as a door materialised and placed the wand in, turning it like a doorknob. Turning, she faced Johanna with a somber expression.

“Through this door is the labyrinth of Arch-Sorceress Matilda Pilqvist. She’s… not one for visitors. I wish you the best of luck. You… you’ll need it.”

Hilda, Frida and Johanna all looked at each other and nodded. In sync, they all stepped through the door.

~~<3~~

“Ok, I think this should be the last room,” Johanna remarked, glancing up from the map that Frida had managed to find. They stepped through to find the room full of snow and ice.

“I bet we’re going to have to fight a snow or ice monster in here!” Hilda exclaimed excitedly. As soon as the words left her mouth, a burst of steam shot up from the ground. A monster made of lava and molten rock stepped out of the steam and roared, spraying lava everywhere.

“RUN FOR THE DOOR!”

It didn’t matter who shouted, they all jumped into action. Hilda and Frida ran around each side and Johanna slid underneath the monster. Once they were all on the other side, they slammed the door shut and took a moment to catch their breaths.

Straightening, they took in their surroundings. They were in a pitch black room, no end to the expanse, only one other door. Cautiously Hilda placed a hand on the handle and turned it. Behind the door was not a castle, like Frida was picturing, or a spooky dungeon like Hilda was, but instead a place very familiar to Johanna. As the younger two entered, there was a voice coming from an armchair in the corner.

“Oh look Cornelius! We have visitors!”

As an old lady rose out of the chair and floated over to the girls, Johanna, still outside the doorway, spoke, voice so quiet it was barely a whisper.

“Tildy?”

Tildy’s head snapped towards Johanna, who had tears pooling her eyes. She flew over at speeds far faster than one would assume she would be capable of, and wrapped Johanna in a hug. Johanna sobbed into her shoulder as she hugged back. Frida and Hilda turned away, feeling that this was a private moment not meant for them to witness.

“She’s gone Tildy, I’ve waited 10 years and she never came back! I miss her so much it hurts and, and-”

Johanna cut herself off with a fresh round of tears. Tildy just patted her back sadly, leading her over to the couch.

“I know dearie, I know. I miss her too. I tried to find her but she’s blocked her magic. Short of going door to door, there’s not much we can do aside from hope she comes back.”

As Johanna sat on the couch, head in her hands, Tildy turned towards Hilda and Frida.

“Now what can I do for you two young ladies?”

Frida didn’t answer so Hilda stepped in and took the lead.

“We’re looking for a book that you checked out… uhh… 29 years, 364 days, 23 hours and 45 minutes ago. The Skeleton Whisperer?”

Tildy huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Did those three fussbudgets send you here to make me return a book? I have more important things to deal with right now, you tell them I’ll return it when I’m good and ready.”

Hilda wasn’t sure if it was magic, or just Tildy’s grandmotherly nature, but she found herself relaxing a bit. It’s not like anything life threatening was at stake, right?

“But if we don’t get this book returned in time, Johanna will lose her job!”

The sense of urgency returned to Hilda at Frida’s words, and she started looking around for where the book might be.

“Oh dear, that is a problem! Well it can’t have gone far, we can look for it together. I’ll go get my crossbow!”

Hilda watched as Cornelius munched on a ball of yarn that was lying on the ground and got an idea.

“Tildy?” She started. “Is there any way your familiar might have the book?”

Tildy and Frida both turned to look at Cornelius as Tildy floated over.

“Cornelius? What’s that in your mouth?”

Tildy grabbed Cornelius as he tried to slowly shuffle away, making him spit out the wide variety of stuff he had swallowed, including the book which Frida quickly found. Tildy turned to Johanna and took her hand.

“Are you ready to go dear? There’s no rush.”

Frida covered Hilda’s mouth before she could point out that yes, there was a rush, but it didn’t matter as Johanna stood up, wiped her eyes, and then nodded. They all linked hands and teleported to the Council Room.

The card tower that the council was building fell abruptly as the group teleported in, though they all rushed to get back into dignified positions.

“We got the book!” Hilda yelled, waving it around for the council to see. Hilda and Frida were standing in front, Tildy beside them and Johanna behind them.

“I’m sorry, but a deadline is a deadline. You missed your chance by about 15 minutes.”

Hilda was confused and angry. They totally had more time than that!

“I’m sorry dears. Time gets a bit… messy when you translocate like that,” Tildy apologised.

“NO!” Johanna cried. “I have to stay here! What if she comes back! I need to make sure she’s ok!”

The council shifted in place as Tildy placed a comforting hand on Johanna’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry but rules are rules. Johanna, Librarian of Trollberg City Library and The Witches Tower, Famil-”

“Oh what utter nonsense!” Tildy interrupted. “Aren’t you the slighted bit impressed that three people without magic made it through my maze, when so many seasoned witches have failed? And can’t you see one of them is a natural witch?” She added, when the council shifted some more.

“Well that is true,” the middle witch conceded.

Hilda puffed out her chest a bit in pride and Frida gave an encouraging smile.

“So what do you say… Frida?”

Frida looked just as surprised as Hilda felt.

“Me?” She questioned. Tildy just nodded.

“Of course dear! And Hilda, you’ve got the spirit to be an invaluable familiar to Frida.”

As Frida and Hilda were celebrating their new witch-and-familiar status, Johanna stiffened behind them. With a wave of her finger, Tildy summoned her teapot, some cups and a few board games, leaving Hilda and Frida to catch them.

“Now, time for tea and board games back at my place! It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone new to play with, Cornelius is a horrible cheat!”

Tildy grabbed Johanna’s hands and started to pull her along when Johanna stopped her.

“Girls, would you mind waiting outside for a bit? There are a few more things that The Council, Tildy and I need to discuss.”

After sharing a look, Frida and Hilda nodded and left, finding the perfect position to eavesdrop.

~~<3~~

“Dear I understand you might be upset but-”

“OF COURSE I’M UPSET!” Johanna interrupted. “TILDY WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? THERE IS NO WAY THIS WILL END WELL!”

Johanna had tears streaming down her face as years of bottled up emotion came out. Abigail opened her mouth to speak but Johanna cut her off as well.

“I THOUGHT THE COUNCIL SAID I WAS THE TRIAL! WELL GUESS WHAT? THE TRIAL FAILED! THEY’RE JUST CHILDREN, WE SHOULDN’T DO THIS TO THEM!”

Johanna finally ran out of steam and sunk to the floor, overwhelmed by memories and emotion.

“We were just children,” she whispered through tears.

Tildy patted her on the back comfortingly.

“That’s the thing about children dear, they can learn from the mistakes of the past and become better for it. And you’ll be there to help them along the way, you can help them avoid those mistakes. Now, how about we go back to my place? I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough, don’t you?”

Johanna nodded and stood up on shaky legs. Wiping her eyes, she gave Tildy a hug and they left the room together. Once they met up with Hilda and Frida, Tildy teleported them all back to set up some games.

BONUS:

“Johanna?” Hilda started. “What’s the name of the person that you’re trying to find? We’ve met a lot of people on our adventures, maybe we’ve run into her!”

Johanna stiffened a bit before relaxing and let out a low chuckle.

“Well I don’t doubt that,” she laughed. “Here, I’ll draw you a picture as well.”

Hilda nodded and took her turn in Dragon Panic. By the time it got to Johanna’s turn, she was finished.

“This is Kaisa,” she said, sliding the paper over to Hilda. Hilda just stared at it in shock, picking it up and looking at it closer.

“This-” she said, the words getting stuck in her mouth. “This is my mum.”

#hilda librarian #hilda kaisa #hilda johanna #hilda (hilda)#hilda frida #hilda netflix #hilda the series #hilda tildy #hilda the council of three #the council of three #sketchbook ship #angst #fic #fan fiction #my writing #hilda fic #hilda fanfiction

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peaxhcringe · 4 years

Text

Move

pairing: Akaashi x Gn! Reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

warnings: mentions of parent’s divorce

word count: 1.6K

summary: Y/n has to move to America with her parents after their divorce, and this is their last time to say goodbye to Akaashi

A/N: I had this one in my google doc for almost 2 months and is one of the first Akaashi stories I’ve ever wrote, but never finished until now. I hope you enjoy!

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

The screams of your parents from the living room flow through the thin walls of the house. Your hands pressing two small pillows tightly against your ears trying your best to drown out the almost routine argument between the two adults downstairs. Over the past few months you’ve gotten used to your new nightly routine of drowning out the noises and getting little to no sleep.

Your parents were currently in the midst of a messy divorce, leaving you in the middle with each of them trying to convince you to stay with them. You weren’t shocked when you found out they decided on the divorce, but the only thing that worried you was that no matter who you’d chose to stay with, you would end up moving to America, and away from what you called home. If all this drama would’ve happened a year earlier you would’ve begged to move, to get away from school and the horrible people here, but no, it all had to happen after you met Akaashi.

You let out a frustrated groan, taking the pillows from your ears and slamming them down onto the bed, one of them falling onto the carpeted floor below. Sitting up, you climb off your bed and walk over to your window, reaching out and placing your hands on the cold white sill. You carefully lift the window up with a small creek before stepping out onto the roof, the siding like ice against your feet as you walk down the roof, sitting towards the edge. You pull your legs up to your chest and place your arms against your knees, letting your head fall and lay against your propped up arms.

With a deep breath, you close your eyes taking in the scent of a coming storm, and the sound of leaves softly blowing in the wind. As you sit there you don’t hear the buzzing or the dinging of texts rushing through your phone, your mind only drifting off to other places.You allow your eyes to close softly, letting the rustling of leaves and the occasional rumbles of thunder in the distance tear your mind away.

Your breathing slows, your body softly luling itself to sleep until two large hands suddenly touch your shoulders. Your eyes shoot open and look down to see two legs appearing next to yours, placing you in between them. One hand moves from your shoulder, before a different weight is placed on it, your body tensing up from the contact.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me” A calm voice says softly against your ear, a chill shooting through your body “It’s okay” The voice assures, noticing how tense your body became

You tilt your head to the side, seeing the deep blue eyes and the stoic expression of your boyfriend, pieces of his black hair softly blowing in the breeze. His head resting on your shoulder as one hand is placed on your arm and the other on your waist. As your eyes take in his appearance you relax against his touch, instinctively leaning back against his chest and resting your head on his shoulder. It’s silent between you as you both take in each other’s company.

For the past couple weeks you both haven’t been able to see each other unless it was the occasional ‘Hello’ in the hallways, due to his relentless volleyball practices and training camps he attended. You understood, knowing that his practices did mean a lot to him, but it just meant the next time you got to see each other would feel amazing.

Your eyes start to close again as you breathe in his smell of coconut and linen mixed with the scent of the cold weather around you. Your body turns to snuggles into his embrace as the wind begins to send goosebumps along your skin. Sleep starts to slowly take over you until Akaashi’s voice pulls it away

“You weren’t answering your phone” He says quietly, his voice vibrating against the side of your neck

“I’m sorry” You apologize, taking one of your hands and placing it against his that was pressed to your waist “I just needed to come out here for minute” You explain, letting your head nuzzle further into his hair

“You can always talk to me about anything” He says, his voice slightly muffled “I’m here” he adds lifting his head off your shoulder, making your body move to sit upright again

Akaashi was always very perceptive, he was like that even before you started dating. He seems to always know how you were feeling or what you were thinking even if you weren’t sure about it. He always knew when you were upset or when something was bugging you, which was a thing you both loved yet hated about him.

Your head turns towards him, taking in his blue eyes. You think to yourself, thinking if you should tell him about your parent’s plan for you. Your heart begins to race, anxiety starting to rush through you as your mind starts to make up scenarios and how things could go, good and bad. You shift your gaze from him, down towards the street, watching as the couple walked hand in hand together while laughing and making new memories together, your heart almost breaking at the sight.

Worry begins to flood your brain, wondering if this would be the last time you got to really sit and be with Akaashi, and wondering if you would be able to see your classmates one last time. You jump slightly when you feel Akaashi’s cold hand place itself on your jaw, turning your head towards him, your eyes meeting.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again, his eyebrows furrowed, noticing at how silent you were

You let your eyes fall from his gaze one last time, carefully taking one of his hands in yours and holding it tightly, letting your thumb softly rub against the back of his thumb.

“I- it’s just- I have to move to America” You say softly, your eyes not meeting his, knowing any tears that haven’t already fallen today will pour out of your eyes “My parents are getting a divorce, and they are both leaving to go to America” You continue, not letting Akaashi speak, a part of you scared to hear what he had to say

When you finish you notice wetness dripping from your face, quickly bringing a hand up and wiping it away, realizing that you had begun to cry. Silence feels the air as you wait anxiously for Akaashi’s response, your heart pounding in your chest.

“When?” He asks, tilting his head down towards you “When would you be leaving?”

You look up at him, your eyes immediately taking in his, noticing how they’ve become glossy, tears brimming them.

“I’m not sure, at the soonest it would be in a couple days” You say, letting your thumb draw soft circles on the back of his hand

Wordlessly, Akaashi pulls you closer, letting one of his arms wrap around your side and pulling you tightly to his chest. His head rests itself in the crook of your neck, letting his warm breath blow against your sensitive skin. Although you were used to the silence between the both of you, this silence felt completely different. It felt as if you were to talk or move, everything would be lost that we might wake up from a dream. You both allow the silence to consume you, your bodies relaxing against one another as your breath in each other's scents.

“What do you think they're doing?” Akaashi asks out of nowhere

Your turn to him, raising an eyebrow before following his gaze to the street. Your eyes follow the different cars zooming by and the people that walk hand in hand or side by side. You catch a glimpse of the same couple you saw earlier, walking slowly next to each other, their hands linked tightly. A smile forms on your face as you lean further into Akaashi, his body warming up the exposed skin of your arms as the wind begins to pick up.

“No idea” You say, a soft laugh following after “What about you?” You ask, tilting your head up towards his, only to meet his blue eyes

You smile at him as you lift a hand to his face, your hand cupping his face lightly, his head leaning into your touch. You watch as your thumb caresses the top of his cheek, a pink tint crossing across his face. Your body leans further into his grip, letting his arm that was placed behind hold you tightly.

“I see my gorgeous girlfriend who,” He begins, leaning forehead and pressing a soft kiss to the side of your mouth “no matter what happens... will always be mine” He speaks, his lips just barely grazing against yours, the tip of his nose brushing past yours

A blush races across your face at his words, your fingertips lightly playing with a few strands of his black hair. Pulling him closer, you press your lips back to his, your eyes closing as you breathe him in. You move in his arm to sit up straighter, his other hand moving to your face and cupping your cheek.

The kiss felt so different than the other hundreds you’ve shared with him. This kiss felt oddly like the last, like a simple wordless goodbye. Although nothing was ever set in stone, especially your situation you both felt the need to share one last intimate moment between the two of you. This kiss was something you both subconsciously needed, you both needed to feel one last real thing between the two of you. The kiss was one last goodbye.

#haikyuu fluff #akaashi fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #Akaashi Keji #akaashi haikyuu #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu angst

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

DMs

Pairing: Ben Hardy x F!Reader

Summery: You run a nsfw snapchat account. Ben's horny.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), partially written as chat text, video chat sex, masturbation, fingering, sex toys, nipple play, voyeurism I guess, fuckboy ben

Words: 3774

A/N: Inspired by something El posted. I love Ben but he’s got them fuckboy/lad vibes and im positive he’d get down on some sc porn

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely

@veriloquently

Your phone buzzed, the familiar noise distracting you from your book. Considering you’d just posted a new photo, partially hidden by emojis, to Instagram and updated your snapchat story with the uncensored version, it was hardly surprising you were getting messages.

YourNewDaddy: Mmm baby let me pound you

You clicked through to his profile. Absolutely nothing. The profile picture was some abs that could belong to anyone. No recent snaps, nothing. For a few seconds you considered replying with your payment details but decided against it. He wasn’t worth your time.

The whole NSFW account thing had started a while ago on Tumblr and then Instagram. A way to kill time and get some attention that you weren’t receiving in the real world. But then the porn ban had happened which severely limited what you could post, so you’d mostly moved to Snapchat, using everything else to advertise. A few months after the move you started getting guys offering to pay you to do specific things. One had wanted an audio recording of you calling him Daddy and begging for his cock with a few moans thrown in. Another had wanted a video of you and a dildo, though he’d had to pay more. Since then you’d used your accounts to pick up a bit of extra cash here and there. Nowhere near enough to live off of, but it came in handy.

You clicked back out of the app, put down your phone and went back to your book, hoping someone entertaining would at least comment on the photo soon. Barely half a page later another ding pulled you away. This time Instagram.

Benhardy: Just came over you

Quick and to the point. Fuckboy energy. You clicked onto his profile half expecting another faceless timewaster. No description or links to other sites but he had a profile picture. And some fifty odd photos. Not many posts considering his million followers but at least you knew he was a real person. You scrolled through his feed trying to put gather what info you could before you responded. Lots of photos of himself sometimes with friends. A few that were clearly modelling jobs or, more likely considering the movie trailers and saved story called Oscars 2019, promotional photoshoots for magazines. And he was a proud dog dad. Definitely attractive. You wondered briefly why someone so handsome was getting off to half dressed girls on Instagram but put it out of your mind as you opened his conversation up again. Who cared why as long as he was talking to you? After all, he was hot and willingly giving you attention. Plus, if he was an actor or whatever he probably wouldn’t mind paying for something special, once you’d given him a taste. The only question left was how to approach the conversation.

You: Really? That’s so flattering!

You: Kind of wish you’d cum over me for real tho, bit bored

Benhardy: dirty girl

Benhardy: could probably think of some way to keep you busy

Benhardy: you’re fit

You: haha aww thank you! I post more often on snap if you wanna follow. don’t have to hide behind swimwear and emojis there. easier to chat too, unless you prefer kik or something

He didn’t reply. You frowned at your phone wondering if you’d shown your hand too soon. Perhaps you should have kept up the flattered damsel act a little longer, waited before mentioning Snapchat. Maybe he wasn’t looking for a chat, just genuinely wanted to compliment you, even if it was in a gross slightly derogatory way. Or maybe he just got cold feet. You sighed as you swiped back to check what other people had been sending you. A few more ignorable accounts, a couple messages you didn’t like enough to respond to straight away. And then another Snapchat notification.

Ben Jones: had to create an account but I’m here

You: oh! you’ve changed your name

Ben Jones: Hardy’s the stage name lol

You: hmmm hardy… little bit of a pornstar name

You: or could be if you changed the ben part.

Ben Jones: that’s my backup plan in case actual acting doesn’t work out lol

Ben Jones: not too out of place right now tho

You: haha that because of me?

Ben Jones: maybe. loved the photos in your story you’ve got great tits

Ben Jones: kinda wanna see you pinch and pull on them

And so it began. You leaned forward to pull your shirt off and then settled back against the pillows, running your fingers around your nipple until it was hard. Angling the camera towards your chest you pinched your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them. The camera clicked as you took a photo and then clicked again as you tugged your nipple away from your body, hissing a little at the pain.

You: Like this?

Ben Jones: perfect

Ben Jones: really are lovely tits.

You: surprisingly don’t hear that much irl so ty

Ben Jones: u don’t? criminal

You: lmao yeah but that’s what I have you for

Ben Jones: happy to help

Ben Jones: What are you wearing?

You: Just a pair of knickers now

Ben Jones: sexy

Ben Jones: can I see?

You: just the knickers or the whole look?

Ben Jones: whole look first

Ben Jones: then just the knickers so I can see the wet spot you’re making

You wriggled against the pillows, shuffling further down the bed. Long ago you’d learnt which angles were the easiest to take photos in and which were the best to show off your body. A full body shot was easiest when you leaned your phone up against a stack of books or something at the foot of the bed and used the timer on the camera to get a few shots of you kneeling. It left your hands fee to squeeze your tits if that seemed appropriate or slip into your underwear, or to put behind your back in a pose that seemed innocent but actually pushed your hips and chest forward. For Ben though you felt something that appeared a little more casual would be appropriate. You lay back, head raised slightly on your pillows, feel flat against the mattress so your knees were in the air and pressed together. Carefully you positioned the camera, wrist twisted a little to get the angle just right. You brought your free hand up to your breasts, pulling your nipple again since Ben seemed to like it, and snapped a photo. The shot of your underwear was easier, legs spread, pushing your hips up slightly to get a clear shot of the wet patch that had been slowly growing since the start of the conversation, though a little added saliva to make it more obvious didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t be able to tell.

Ben Jones: hot

Ben Jones: like got me so hard again hot

You: does that mean I get a picture in return?

Ben Jones: Only if you take your knickers off for me

Ben Jones: wouldn’t be fair otherwise since im not wearing underwear😉

You took your time sending him a new photo and got one back almost straight away. You would have scoffed at his eagerness to show himself off but, with a body like his you couldn’t really blame him. You zoomed into the photo, trailing your eyes over every inch of it. Messy blonde hair, though whether it was intentionally messy or just like that from him grabbing it while he jerked off over your photo you weren’t sure. Gorgeous eyes, heavy lidded and a little fucked out. One arm behind his head as he lay on his bed. It looked carefree and spontaneous, like someone else had taken the photo at the very moment he looked at the camera, but it showed off the muscles in his arms too well to be coincidence. And speaking of muscles. The boy was a fucking Adonis. You were instantly struck by the desire to drag your nails down his chest and leave a trail of hickeys and bite marks all the way down to his toned stomach and tight waist. You clenched your thighs together at the thought as you slowly revealed the bottom half of the photo. He had his legs outstretched though one was more bent than the other, knee jutting out to the side. Almost too casual to be casual, especially with the way he had his hand wrapped around his cock, like the photo was taken mid stroke. You couldn’t help linger over that particular part of the photo. It was a lovely hand, big with noticeable veins, exactly the sort that could make you weak in the knees. And the same could be said for the dick it was holding. You wondered briefly where this Ben guy had come from and what you could possibly have done to catch his attention.

Ben Jones: is that silence because you’re so impressed

The message made you roll your eyes. Hot he might be, but he was still just another desperate fuckboy looking for a naked girl to drool over and a quick orgasm.

You: well I’m not not impressed

Ben Jones: no need to be shy. just say you’re imagining riding me and I'd understand

You: wasn’t before. Am now.

Ben Jones: what were you picturing before?

You: doggy

Ben Jones: be happy to let you try both and compare.

You: let me film it and watch the tapes back to study your game?

Ben Jones: wait this is dumb.

Your frowned at your phone. For such typical guy, the sort you’d dealt with so many times before, Ben sure was hard to pin down.

You: what?

Ben Jones: you comfortable doing live chat?

Ohhhh

You: umm sure thing

Ben Jones: you don’t have to

You: i know that. you couldn’t force me to even if you wanted, beauty of doing this online. i just don’t do live very often. or I charge for it.

Ben Jones: that desperate for me?

You: you caught me in a good mood

You let the call ring for a bit, wanting to make sure Ben understood how in control you were and how much more he needed it than you. But eventually you picked up, settling back against your pillows. Ben seemed to be in a similar position, leaning against his headboard, the screen showing you his face and bare shoulders. “Hi,” “Hi,” his voice was deeper than you’d expected, thrown by how soft and, dare you say, feminine his features were, and yet it suited him perfectly. You could only imagine how that voice would sound growling out sexually charged complements, the thought appealing enough to have you pressing your thighs together. There was a moment of silence as you took each other in, not quite sure how to continue now that you’d switched from text. “So you going to show me how wet you are?” Once again his demeanour had you wanting to roll your eyes though you refrained, “No.” “No?” His confusion was entertaining to say the least. So many of the men who contacted you assumed you were going to be outright submissive and meek, taking whatever photos they demanded and doing everything they told you to with a smile and a yes sir. So proving them wrong, defying them, taking control, that was fun. Almost an aphrodisiac in its own right. Sometimes you’d eventually submit, play the brat and then let them win, and if they were paying it was a different story. But Ben struck you as the kind of guy who could use a little more pushback. Probably used to getting his way, having his pick of the litter. Lord knows had he hit on you in real life you probably would have agreed to whatever he wanted just to feel his hands on you. But here, on your profile, you had the power. Plus, in the back of your mind you suspected that being a little more assertive might just make him more interested in seeing you submit and maybe a little more willing to pay for the pleasure. “Not yet.” “Bit of a bold move considering I could just go find someone else to look at. There’re these things called porn sites, yeah?” “But they’re so impersonal. Isn’t this more fun?” He paused, eyeing you, and then let out a breath, “You got me there.” “Figured, since the video chat was your idea and all.” “Just got sick of typing one handed.” “Mmhmm, sure.” “So are you going to show me your cunt then?” “Eventually. But what’s the rush?” you stood up, making sure to let the camera dip just a little so Ben got a quick flash of your chest. “How about I’m hard as hell and want to get off?” “You’re not the only one who wants to get off so just hold your horses for a second while I get my toys.” “There are toys now?” You could see Ben’s shoulder move as he started to stroke himself again. “Told you to hold your horses. Stop touching yourself.” Ben’s arm stopped its movement though he seemed a little taken aback by his own obedience. “Good boy,” you watched for Ben’s reaction, not disappointed as he swallowed hard, his cheeks going pinker than they already were. That was interesting. “Yes there are toys, you wanna see?” “Do I get to pick which ones you use?” “Maybe,” “Go on, show me then,” You flipped the camera around as you opened your chest of draws. There wasn’t much in there, a couple different dildos and vibrators, a set of nipple suckers, mostly things you’d bought to fulfil requests guys were paying you for. You picked up the nipple suckers and held them up to the camera. “I assume you’d like to see me in these since you liked watching me play with my nipples.” “Mmhmm, absolutely. Also want to see you with a dildo. You got one with a suction base? Might tell you to ride it the way you’d ride me,” he seemed to be doubling down on the pull for control after you’d seen his reaction to being told what to do, determined to put you in your place or whatever. “Unfortunately, no. But this one will do,” you took hold of a silicon dildo, pulling it from the draw, “Don’t think it's as big as you but it does vibrate and that’s guaranteed to work.” “I’ll allow it, though I think we both know I’d be better.” “I’m going to ignore that,” you said as you turned the camera back towards you and headed back to your bed, settling against the pillows again. You propped the camera up against a pillow so Ben could watch as you placed the suckers over your nipples, whimpering at the sudden taught feeling. You picked the phone back up, giving Ben a closer view of your boobs. “They suit you. And you can ignore it all you like but when you start doing what I say and I let you fuck yourself into your third orgasm I’ll remind you. Maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you where you can meet me in real life and show you exactly how good I am.” “You’re a cocky one, aren’t you?” “In every sense. If I remember correctly you were speechless at the sight.” “You’ve got a bad memory, Benny boy.” Slowly you let your fingers trail down to your pussy. You didn’t believe he was as good as he thought he was – you’d dealt with too many overconfident wankers, both in real life and online, to believe another one – but the game you’d fallen into, the back and forth teasing, not entirely sure who was in control at any one time, was arousing to say the least. It was certainly one of the less predictable conversations you’d had recently. “If not speechless then certainly wet. Show me your pussy, wanna see you touching yourself.”” “Who said I’m touching myself?” you slipped a finger into your entrance, trying to keep your breathing even.” “You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are. So show me.” “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Ben gave you a fleeting look, eyebrow raised, before his camera flipped and you were once again looking at his hand wrapped around his cock, red and leaking precum. You turned your camera too, making sure he had a good view. “Add a second finger for me.” You did as he asked, “You been a good boy and not touched? Or do I have to tell you off for misbehaving?” “I didn’t but it wasn’t because of anything you said. Just didn’t want things to finish before I heard you beg me to cum.” He began to stroke himself, keeping in time with the slow pace you’d set as you pumped your fingers in and out of your pussy. “Sure,” you panted, adding a third finger, “so if I told you to stop now,” His hand halted. “Well aren’t you just so obedient,” You removed your fingers from yourself, reaching to grab the dildo, “you wanna see me fuck myself properly? Watch me cum all over this toy, pretend it’s your cock making me moan?” “God yes,” his voice cracked a little, fingers twitching against himself as he briefly let the cocky, controlling persona fall away. It didn’t last long, “Show me how deep you can take that cock. C’mon, I know what a fucking slut you are, getting off on people watching you.” You didn’t bother arguing, sliding the dildo along your dripping folds before pressing it into yourself with a whine. “Wait, hang on a sec.” The was the sound of shuffling and the screen went black as Ben moved around but, eventually, he flipped the camera again and settled back on the bed. He’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of himself, letting you see every inch of him from his face to his hard, leaking cock, “better?” “Oh much, hang on I’ll do the same," you carefully pulled the dildo from yourself and sat up, leaning your phone against a stack of books on your bedside table and then adjusting your pillows in front of it, “we good?” “Yeah, take the nipple things off though, wanna see your tits properly.” You did as he asked, letting out a soft moan at the sensation. Ben chuckled, “God I can’t wait to hear how loud you moan imaging how hard I’d fuck you.” You slid the dildo back into your entrance, slowly pumping it in and out of yourself as you brought your other hand up to squeeze your breast, “mmm, you look so pretty when you’re all needy Benny.” It wasn’t a lie, between his lust blown eyes, flushed cheeks and soft pout, Ben looked incredible and it only turned you on more, “Want to show me how needy you can get? Want me make you beg?” “Faster. Harder,” he ignored your questions in favour of giving you another order but you were sure you’d heard his voice crack just a little. You sped up, whining with each thrust, Ben’s hand matching your pace as his slid his thumb over the tip and spread the precum over his length. “Fuck your wet, I can hear it. That all because of me?” “Maybe a-a bit. Also just like, fuck, being watched,” “Turn on the vibrator and rub your clit,” Ben’s voice was husky, impossibly deep and rough, “don’t stop until I say.” You moaned as the vibrations started, angling the dildo to rub against your g-spot on every pass. “There you go, being a good little slut. Gonna cum how I tell you to.” “On-only if you cum how I tell you to.” You almost let the dildo fall from your grasp, so shocked were you by the whine Ben let out, “Like that idea? Want me to tell you what to do? If I told you to stop and watch me would you?” “No,” he said, steadfastly sticking to the game although his hand faltered and his voice had mostly lost the controlling edge he’d had before, all desperate, whiny need. “N-not sure I beli-eve you.” “Please don’t stop. Wanna cum so bad,” “I know y-ou do Benny.” “You close?” “Yes, fuck Ben, so close.” “Cum for me, come on, be a good slut and cum,” “Not. Yet. Play with your balls Benny, wanna see you cum first.” His gasped turned into a strangled cry as he ran his fingers over his testicles before lightly squeezing them “T-turn the vibrator higher,” Neither one of you were in control anymore, too caught up in getting yourselves and each other off, though you were both determinedly looking at the screen, watching each other. Ben’s lip was caught between his teeth, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he let out some of the prettiest moans you’d ever heard. It only served to push you closer to the edge, your own moans escaping as you bucked your hips rhythmically in time with the dildo moving in and out of your cunt. Ben finished a split second before you did, your eyes glued to the white now painting his stomach as you held the dildo in place, its vibrations making your toes curl.

The was a moment of quiet as you both collected yourselves, the only sounds his panted breaths and your soft whine as you removed the dildo from yourself, and then Ben spoke. “Fuck that was hot.” “Yup,” “I thought your tits were good enough to wank over but Christ. That’s gonna keep me going for a bit.” You laughed, relaxing as your heart gradually fell back to its normal rhythm, “Well not too long I hope. You’re fun and I’d be happy to chat again sometime.” “Did I see in your bio that you take commissions?” “Yuuup,” “Huh, well, I’ll keep that in mind then.” “I look forward to it,” “Well, I should be off then, gotta clean up,” he gestured to the mess drying on his stomach. “Yeah, me too, maybe have a nap. That really was fun though so next time you’re bored or whatever hit me up. If you’re lucky I’ll let you boss me around. If you’re luckier I’ll do the bossing,” “I’d like to see you try,” “That whine you made says you’d enjoy it quite a lot,” “My whine? What about yours? Needy little brat.” Guess you’ll have to come back and settle this then.” “Guess I will. See you later.”

#my writing #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #hope ya'll like this #hope i made him enough of a fuckboy #and that it makes sense and everything #i wrote the first half real quick like last month #and then took a break from it to write curtains 5 #and then found it kinda hard to get back into it #but i think im happy with it #anyway #gonna be more benny content coming soon #im so very deep in my feels because of all this 6u content

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

Text

Can I Ask You Something?

Part 1 | Part 2 |

A/N: I’ll properly link this and fix it tomorrow or technically later today. I’m tired and bleh. I’m also a boomer when it comes to tech so like, take pity! Part 3 will be tomorrow too

When you log back in a few days later to play solo missions, you notice that he’s on, and before you can chicken out, you send him a hello and ask if he wants to go another mission together.

On the other side of the screen, he raises his eyebrows. Did you think that he was friends with you? He’s going to ignore you, leave you on read and continue with whatever he’s about to do. When he continues to scroll through the mission list of the month, he sets his eyes on particular interesting mission, he notices that the mission he’d set his eyes on, requires a minimum of two players. He throws his head back and decides to throw you a bone, only if you’re willing to play his game.

Eagerly you type back, agreeing to what he wants to try and so you begin. Ten minutes into the game, an almost friendly banter starts to exchange between the two of you but when your avatar gets nipped in the leg, causing you to miss the hit and let the high ranking monster run away, you let out a string of curses. He’s surprised at that; he never took you to be so vulgar. He’s distracted for a split second by you, and his avatar gets picked off and then he’s cursing into his headset.

You stare at the screen a bit stunned, you knew he was vulgar, you’ve heard him say much worse than what he was saying right now so that wasn’t the issue but you really couldn’t believe he would get picked off so easily; he was the best player that you had seen and to see that made you giggle hysterically.

“What’s so funny dumbass?” He growled into his headset.

“Nothing, nothing,” you shake your hand in front of you, trying to control your laughter, “I just didn’t expect you to get picked off so easily. You’re usually so focused.” A giggle cuts you off, and you stifle your laughter with the palm of your hand. You clear your throat and let one more laugh slip out before controlling yourself, but he can still hear the smile in your voice as you spoke. “What happened there Tomaraki?”

He narrows his eyes at your words, there was smugness and playfulness laced in your voice. His teeth were already bared, ready to point out that you had gotten taken out before him but you cut him off before he could get his words in.

“Ready for another round? If we hurry, we can get into the next batch. I’ll even let you get most of the loot.” You purred out, feeling more comfortable and openly teasing him.

He’s silent for a moment. He’s unsure how to proceed but when you ask him ask him again, your voice still playful but a hint of concern is laced in, he replies, his voice nonchalant. “Whatever. Let’s go.” The grip on his controller loosens slightly for a quick second, only to be gripped harder, the plastic creaking in his hands and the buttons digging into the pads of his fingers.

Afterwards, you two begin to do missions together and in result, you two begin to talk more to each other- never branching out to talk about personal lives but more to talk about upcoming events or to complain about other members. Usually it’s you who mentions the upcoming events while he complains about how incompetent so-and-so is. And as the missions in group increase in difficulty, you do solo missions to raise your level, occasionally joined by Shigaraki, still referred to as Tomaraki, who offers you backhanded compliments, taking half of your rewards because, as he states, “He might as well get something out of this,” to which you reply, that he invited himself to the mission. He only ever tells you to shut up whenever you bring up that point and not wanting to fall into his bad side, you do as you’re told, sometimes letting out giggles only to change conversation to something else before he can snap at you. Oddly enough you’ve began to think of him as a friend, teasing him if he were to miss a shot and he would spit back a comment, and while it was harsh, it didn’t hold the same type of malice as it did before.

The group has been waiting for ten minutes for you to arrive. When those ten minutes had passed, a few of the members had started to say that they might as well start the mission since your icon is still black and white signifying that you aren’t even online and they might as well get started. So they do. Shigaraki frowns as the load up screen starts, and his frown only deepens, when you don’t pop up mid-way into the mission. He had half expected you to pop up, your voice frantic, apologizing for being late and coming up with some excuse- but you never do; instead, he hears everyone talking above each other, barking out orders and the occasional insult.

Everyone is laughing in relief at the quest being completed, members talking about how they’ll upgrade their armor while others advise to save up for better armor that is supposed to come out in the upcoming months. Shigaraki is as always silent, just waiting for everyone to say their goodbyes but then your voice pops ups.

“Uh, hi?” Your voice is hesitant, like you’re unsure if your microphone is even connected.

“Oh!” Another member begins to talk, their voice full of fake cheer. “Look who’s back!”

You groan into your headset, “I know, I know. And I’m sorry! But I had to help my friend—” You get cut off.

“What’s the rule?”

You throw your head back, gripping the controller in your hand, feeling the buttons dig into the pad of your fingers. “Don’t be late and no talk of the “outside”. You make air quotation marks as you say the last word and annoyance drenched in your words.

“Exact—” It’s their turn to be cut off.

“Look that’s a stupid rule anyways. Plus my excuse has something to do with the outside so like shut up and listen.” You take a deep breath and smile when you can hear the others laugh and say ‘ohh’. “Okay, so like I was helping my friend move into another apartment because their old place sucked and I mean it sucked, ya know. Anyways, afterwards, me, my friend, and my other friend went to go get smoothies, and let me tell you, if you ever have the chance, go try BlueBird’s smoothies because wow! They’re smoothies are amazing!” Shigaraki’s eyes narrow slightly at the mention of the establishment but he shakes his head, it was a chain, there was going to be more than one in the area. “Anyways, flashing forward, we’re all going home and like this van just fucking zooms past us. And y’all know the pro-hero Endeavor?”

Shigaraki straightens his back, pulling away from the computer, his body aching from being hunched over for so long, and your voice becomes distant, it grows farther away as he searches in his mind the plans of the League for today.

“What was tonight?” He thinks to himself. He checks his mental calendar and he realizes that he sent Twice and Mr. Compress out to steal documents. Had they taken a van? Were they back yet? Did the pro-hero Endeavor try to stop his team? Did Endeavor really appear or were you just coming up with some grand lie? No. Of all the things you could have said, why would you settle on a pro-hero?

His door creaks opens. He turns his head, his neck aching in protest as he watches Dabi stand there, a bored expression on his face with his hands shoved into his pockets, his head cocked to the side resting on the door frame. “We got a meeting. Twice and Compress are back already.”

He stares at Dabi for a moment, his fingers twitching in anticipation, his neck already burning and the blood that rushes in his ears is deafening. He blinks once, then twice, and nods his head, his eyes never once leaving Dabi’s. When the door clicks close, his face returns to a neutral look, and he forces his attention back to the game, trying to catch your last words.

“And that’s why I’m late. Valid excuse right?” You finished your story, and let out an airy chuckle, as if the story was funny and Shigaraki can only sneer at you.

It’s quiet for a moment, and then as someone speaks up, their voice in awe, Shigaraki interrupts them. “Shut the fuck up.” His tone is steady and menacing, it’s said between bared teeth, and he leaves no room for a reply. “One of the rules is to not mention personal shit.” His words are sharp, and he says the last words like they’re burning hot. “So shut up.” He closes his mouth and his lip twitch open, his words come out through gritted teeth and he logs out, throwing his headset onto his bed.

The group is silent. People had slipped up with the rule before, mentioning that life was kicking their ass or that they had a date, so you weren’t the first to talk about your personal life and even then it wasn’t personal, it was just some story about how you saw a villain and hero; but he had never threatened to kick someone out before and you were aware of this. And by the tone of his voice, you were all aware that this wasn’t some empty threat.

You can only mutter ‘sorry’ before you log out, the words dipped into shame and feeling bitter on your tongue.

In another part of the city, Shigaraki is scratching at his neck, listening as Mr. Compress talks about the mission and that it was a success even though Endeavor had appeared. Twice is tending to his wounds, offering the occasional commentary companied by yelps of pain when he accidently knocks the first aid kit onto his knee, the contents spilling everywhere. Shigaraki only stares blankly, telling Spinner to pick it up, and he walks to his room, his nails digging deep into his flesh on his neck reopening old wounds that had long been closed.

So were in the city, and relatively close. Close enough that you were able to return home, boot up your PC, and log in, telling everyone about your almost encounter with a pro-hero just as Twice and Mr. Compress returned home.

He doesn’t like that.

You lie in bed that night, your mind swimming with thoughts about what you did wrong. Under the covers you can feel yourself start to drown in doubt and humiliation, your mind grows heavier and louder, your insecurities screaming at you. You two had been good so far. You were joking with each other and he had even seemed to enjoy your online presence given that you never did a solo mission when he was around. You know it’s dumb, but you had even begun to gain some sort of crush on the gamer, even if you hadn’t seen his face, he seemed like the bad-boy-with-a-soft-spot type and like most people that was a weakness for you. You frown and you feel dumb for wanting to cry but then that just makes you feel worse. You toss and turn that night, and before you can let sleep consume you, you open up the personal forum and type out a message, your lips pulled into a frown as you check for typos. Your finger hovers over the send button, and take in a deep breath, the air filling your lungs and clearing a bit of the storm inside of you for a moment, and you press your finger down, your message popping up on top on the forum.

The next day, he waits for you to log on, waiting to start a mission together as has become tradition in the past few weeks but your icon remains black and white. He waits for another ten minutes, picking at his neck and when another ten minutes pass by, he goes on a solo mission, killing NPCs and random players.

You don’t show up during the next group meeting and he acts like he doesn’t care. He only replies with an “I don’t know” when the group asks if they’ve heard anything about you, and someone mentions that you haven’t been active for two weeks. Some random member, which Shigaraki can’t be bothered to remember the name of, offers to maybe check the group forum- that perhaps you’ve posted something there and maybe they all just missed the notification.

The second in command replies that that’s a good idea and Shigaraki runs his nails down his arms to prevent himself from going to itch at his already raw neck. The only sign that something was written there, was when the second in command gives an exasperated sigh.

“You were right. They posted something there.” His voice is monotone, if they had the video function on, the rest of the group could see his lips being pulled into a frown.

“And?” Shigaraki not wanting to waste any time, tries to speed the conversation.

“They uh, they posted that they won’t be playing for a month.” They hesitate before continuing. “Something came up apparently.” Shigaraki could hear the other player click their tongue. “They also mentioned that if we want to kick them out, we can.”

The headset is filled with the clacking of the keyboards, no doubt going to check the forum, and seeing your message there. He’s no different. This time, he gives into his curiosity, his typing slow and quiet and as the page loads, he drums his finger impatiently on his desk.

<User_Name>

“Hi guys! So I won’t be online for a while. ‘Bout like a month or so. Don’t worry I’m all good, something just came up:P Anyways, if y’all wanna like kick me out or whatever because of it then whatevs. Catch ya on the flip side… Or not;P”

Shigaraki stares at the message date. The same day when he threatened to kick you out. Are you really that sensitive? Are you going to give everyone the silent treatment simply because he had snapped at you?

“Hey Tomaraki!” Shigaraki is snapped out of his thoughts.

“What?” He sneers, trying to sound threatening over the headset.

“So what do we do? Do we kick them out? It’s your call since you’re leader and all. We’re all good with them staying but for certain missions we might need another member and we can’t just go around on forums asking for spare players for the next month or so.”

He can only stare at your words on the screen. You had told him that you liked the group- that you didn’t want to leave. For fucks sake, you had even gotten choked up when you had offered to leave and you simply typed a “whatevs” to the outcome of whether you’d stay or not? And now he had to make a decision? You were so fucking annoying and you weren’t even there.

“Like I fucking care. Give them a month.” His voice was laced with annoyance and anger, and it seeped through the headset.

“All right. You heard him. We give them the month and afterwards, we’ll look for someone new.” The second’s voice was nonchalant, he was probably leaned back in his chair, shrugging his shoulders looking bored at the whole ordeal. “Now, let’s go kill some fucking guys!”

At that, the whole team cheered and began their new mission. You were already an afterthought; no doubt some of them had even begun to think of where to get a new member if the situation were to call for it. You had already been replaced, you could be easily replaced, your skills weren’t special, there were probably hundreds of people in game with the same skill set that you had and even if there wasn’t, the team was fine before you came into the picture and they could just let the newbie gain all the experience to just bump them up to where you were at. You weren’t special. And Shigaraki kept repeating that to himself as his avatar ranked up experience points and kill count.

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Goblin Brain Study Session Fic 1 [Day 54]

Because I don’t want to just have walls of text for my Goblin Brain Study Session posts, I’m separating them by days. If you want to read the previous chapters, click the links below. Chapter 21 and what’s done of chapter 22 is under the cut.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 My Master Post

See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. Also, if you’re interesting, don’t forget that I am constantly updating the timeline as I write. :)

I have a zoom meeting in about an hour. Not sure if it will take long because it’s just supposed to be an organization meeting, but the time slot is for 2 hours. So... I’m not sure if there will be a random 2 hour break in this or not... But, anyway, time for Janus to murder his Virgil’s dad.

Chapter 21

Emile’s car, of course, did not have a built-in button that would let him into the bases outer gates like Remy’s would have. Instead, Remy had to get out of the car and put his face in front of the security camera. He waved and someone must have seen and recognized him because the gate swung open to let them through.

Remy climbed back into the car and Emile drove up towards what appeared to be an abandoned factory.

“Since you’re not an agent they’ll want us to go inside the shell building instead of down to the parking garage for security,” Remy told him.

Emile had never actually been to the base. He usually met with Logan at another location or sometimes Emile’s office and he met any patients in his office as well. Thus, he had absolutely no idea what parking garage he was talking about or where on Earth it could be, but he could figure out where Remy must want him to go because there was only one building in sight.

He drove down the driveway towards what looked like the main entrance.

“Weird,” Remy said as Emile pulled up in front of it. “There’s another car here.” They exchanged a glance.

Remy mumbled something that sounded like “damned kid,” under his breath. Then they were both scrambling to get out of the car the next moment. Remy went ahead of Emile because he knew more about this place and also Emile would not be able to stop him.

The door had been left slightly ajar and Emile could hear voices as they approached.

Emile heard Virgil’s voice (and thank god Remy was right about where he’d been going) say “you know my dad?”

An unfamiliar voice responded with a shocked. “Remy’s dead?” which was right when Remy made it to the door.

Without missing a beat, Remy threw open the door and said, “Quit telling everyone I’m dead!” Now Emile loved a good animated movie reference usually, but today he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

There were a few seconds of silence before the one figure he didn’t recognize finished the quote by saying, “Sometimes I can still hear his voice.”

“Dad?” Virgil asked sounding all types of vulnerable and confused.

“Kid,” Remy said, “you are the bane of my existence. I’m dead for 5 minutes and you skip town?”

Emile watched Virgil’s face as he quickly adjusted to the fact that his father was not in fact dead, but simply an emotionally constipated idiot with a flair for dramatics. He narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, and where have you been, old man?”

“Running after you once the wrist tracker said you’d booked it 50 miles away by the time I knew you were missing! Which then stopped tracking.”

“Yeah, well I threw it out a window because I thought you were dead and I’m not stupid.”

“Well your lack of stupidity has made my life a living hell for the past few hours.”

“Right back at you not-dead dad.”

Remy snorted a bit. “Come here pipsqueak. Your old man deserves a hug after you nearly gave him a heart attack.” Virgil still looked a bit sullen but went in for the hug anyway.

Virgil caught sight of Emile over Remy’s shoulder and drew back from the hug. “Uncle Emile,” he said, sounding relieved. “I tried to call you.”

Emile turned to glare at Remy.

“Oof,” Remy said. “Yeah, that one may have been my bad too.”

“I,” Logan interjected. By the look on his face, Emile could tell that his willingness to let Remy and Virgil have a moment was wearing thin, “also tried to call him.”

Remy just shrugged. “Yeah, well, boss, someone drilled it into my head not to give out secret critical information on unsecured lines and I am definitely critical.”

Logan gave him an unimpressed look and Remy shrugged and winked at him after a moment. He dug the flash drive he’d stolen out of his pocket and tossed it at Logan. “Oh, and also this.”

Logan caught it and raised an eyebrow at it. “What is this?”

“Enough information to want to kill me for it,” he paused. “Of course, that’s not a high bar considering she tried to kill me before I stole it.”

Logan put the flash drive in his chest pocket. “I’ll decide if I’m going to kill you after I look at what’s on this.”

“Fair enough,” Remy agreed.

“So, you’re a secret agent?” Virgil asked.

“Yep,” Remy confirmed. Virgil looked over at Emile.

“Don’t look at me,” Emile said. “I’m just a run of the mill psychiatrist.”

“Who gives therapy to secret agents,” Remy pointed out.

“Even secret agents need therapy sometimes,” Emile said, “and I already knew about the organization.”

Virgil turned back to his dad. “I’m mad at you,” he said.

“Ah,” Remy said. “Yeah…”

“Teach me to shoot a gun, and I’ll forgive you.”

“NO,” both Emile and the man he didn’t know said at one.

“Trust me,” the other man continued. “He doesn’t need to learn how to use a gun. He does just fine with a knife.”

Remy considered Virgil suspiciously for a few seconds. “What did you do, you little shit?”

“Remy,” the other man chastised.

“He’s heard a lot worse,” Remy waved him off. The other man frowned at him, but Remy just turned back to Virgil. “Now, what did you do?”

“I needed a ride,” said Virgil.

“What about a knife?”

“The knife… helped me get a ride.”

“Did you kidnap Patton at knife point?” Remy asked. Virgil just shrugged. “Kid!”

“And you allowed that to happen?” Logan asked, Emile presumed, Patton.

“He wasn’t exactly scary,” Patton said.

Virgil looked almost affronted. “I was terrifying!”

“Sure, you were kiddo,” Patton said. Virgil pouted at him.

“From what I understand, he also incapacitated one of Nelson’s men with pepper spray,” Logan interjected. He eyed Virgil. “We should have a conversation at some point in the future.”

“Logan,” Patton chided. “He’s 15.”

“I’m aware of his age,” Logan said.

Virgil looked at him. “Would you teach me how to use a gun?”

“Hey, if anyone is going to teach my child how to use a gun, it’s me,” Remy insisted.

“No one is teaching him how to use a gun,” Emile said. “He doesn’t even have his driver’s license yet.”

“If I agree to take drivers ed… then I can get a gun?” Virgil asked.

“Maybe,” Remy said.

“No!” Emile exclaimed.

“Okay, but Janus is not allowed to teach me to drive. He’s the one who told me the gas pedal was the break on that golf cart. I don’t want to crash another vehicle into a body of water.”

“Wow,” a new voice said from the door. Emile looked over to see a group of damp people walk into the building. Emile did not recognize four of them, but he did recognize the fifth. The speaker turned to Janus. “You must be cursed.”

A woman in the group turned to Logan. “We found your kids,” she said.

Chapter 22

33113

Janus did not respond to Roman’s quip about the car. Instead, he shoved past Roman the second he heard the boy’s voice. Roman recognized the kid immediately from the pictures he’d been sent along with his mission directives.

“Virgil,” Janus said, crossing the room to get to his little brother without regard to anything else. “Thank god. Are you alright?” He grabbed his face and titled it as though to look for injuries. Nothing about what Roman had learned about Janus in the past few hours would have prepared him for the way he descended directly into mother-hen mode, cupping the boy’s face with delicate fingers.

He was even less prepared for when Virgil shoved his hands away with an eye roll and a “I’m fine, Janus,” and Janus immediately started to cry.

Janus pulled Virgil into a hug, and Roman winced in sympathy for Janus’s injured ribs when the kid hugged him back tightly. They should really get that checked out as soon as the two of them had their moment. “I’ve been worried sick about you,” he said, voice all types of wrecked. The past few hours of worry that Janus had kept careful hold of lashed out suddenly, and it was even more than Roman had anticipated. “I showed up to the house, and you were gone, and the window was broken.” Virgil was getting a bit wobbly lipped himself, and Roman couldn’t exactly blame him with how gutted Janus sounded. “Where did you go? How did you get here? How did you know to come here? Did Logan send someone else after you?”

“Dad let the name slip,” Virgil explained, “and Mom sent someone to pick me up, but I’d already accidently heard that she’d killed him with the radio Dad keeps in his room. So, I really didn’t want to go with the man, and he was mean especially when I said no.” His voice cracked a bit as he spoke and he too started crying. “I didn’t know where to go or what to do. At first, I just wanted to get out of the city so Mom couldn’t find me. Once I was out, I decided to try to get here because dad said he worked with the owner, and no one was answering their phones.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Janus said. “That was my fault. I broke my phone. I should have thought about you wanting to call me.” He pulled back to kiss Virgil ever so gently on the forehead.

“Hey, what gives,” another man said, and Roman blinked because that was Remy Gates and Remy was definitely supposed to be dead. “I was dead, and I didn’t even get that much of a heartfelt reunion.” Janus seemed to freeze for a moment and then turned to him.

#study break stories #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #patton sanders #virgil sanders #platonic moxiety #emile picani #remy sanders #logan sanders #kidnapping #murder mentioned #guns #car crash

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reel-em-in · 3 years

Text

Pre-Production:

I feel that the pre-production for Coming Out Country went really well. We researched a few different things in relation to country music, but there was a big focus on the stereotypes held about the genre and those who listen to it, wether country always had ties to conservatism and right-leaning ideals, and examples of country artists that are/were more progressive or queer themselves. I also created a survey during pre-production which I posted in some groups online, as well as sending to people that I know. This was to find out a surface level view of the demographics of people who consider themselves fans of country music and wether these fans feel they had been treated unfairly within the country music fan base due to their identity. It also had a section for people who did not consider themselves fans of the genre, and instead they were asked what their feelings were towards country, if they disliked the genre they could tell me why, and what there stereotypes were about country music fans. This was interesting as something I noticed was that many of the stereotypes had their origins in classism (many felt that country fans were less educated and less progressive and suggested that this was due to their rural/less well-off upbringing).

We also conducted some zoom interviews during pre-production. With the group formulating questions to ask me. This allowed us to get an idea about the sorts of things I would be able to talk about in the film, and what was of interest to the group. This was very useful as country music is a special interest of mine so I would find anything about the topic to be interesting, whereas I understand that to the general populace it probably wouldn’t be that interesting. These interviews fed into the questions that would later be asked during the interviews during production.

I also spent a lot of time collecting the archive photographs. I managed to get a large selection of possible photos, whilst also learning that we have more photographs of agricultural machinery in the house than of me as a child. An amusing fact.

Production:

I feel that for the most part the production of our documentary was successful, though there are definitely a couple of things that I would improve upon.

Production began with me getting the b-roll footage of me working on the farm. This footage worked well within our documentary, though it is also something that I would have done differently had we not been in a pandemic. In a perfect world I would have liked to have had the group (or at least Luke as our DoP) come to the farm and film the b-roll footage properly with a camera. Though due to travel restrictions this was not possible. I had also left my camera in Edinburgh as I was not anticipating being home for so long. This meant that I had to film the b-roll footage on my phone, and ask my mum to be my camerawoman. Telling her what footage I needed, and then getting her to point and shoot. She now knows all about the rule of thirds!

Once I was back in Edinburgh, Luke and I shot the rest of the footage. We spent a few days in my flat filming the interviews as well as some of the songwriting process, and eventually the song. I think this worked really well as due to Luke being a friend of mine I felt much more able to open up in the interviews than I would have if someone I didn’t know that well had been the one asking questions. This meant that our doc took a much more personal direction than it was originally going to.

A lot of the song writing process was also filmed, though much of it wasn’t as it was a long process. I am pleased with the final song, though it was definitely difficult to write. Now that I have proved to myself that I can do it, I plan on writing more of my own music though.

We also recorded the song during this time, something that I think was really well done! I would have liked to record the song in a studio, but unfortunately to to time constraints and Covid restrictions this was not possible. With that being said I think the recording is of a really good quality for being recorded in my room, with sound equipment that Luke had access to.

Post Production:

The post production was also mostly successful, though once again there are a couple of improvements that could be made.

Beth began the editing process, putting together the first cut before I joined her for the rest of the editing process. I spent several days with Beth working on the edit, creating the narrative of the film from things that had been discussed in the interview. This was a difficult process as we had so much footage from the interviews with so many interesting points that deciding was to keep in the film and what to discard was a bit of a nightmare. I feel like what made it into the final cut worked really well though. We were working under more time constraints than initially planned due to other projects we were working on simultaneously, but each day we would send our cut to Sana and Leo for feedback, and act upon that feedback the next day.

One thing I would have done differently though is to have included the sound from the interviews underneath the archive photographs, as the lack of dialogue did impact the flow of the film. I don’t think this was too much of a problem, but having dialogue there would have definitely improved the final film.

Once we had picture lock, we sent everything off to Jess for the sound design. This was also done with more time constraints than we would have liked, but I feel that it was mostly successful. I think that the levels of the mix were great for the most part, and the different audio clips blended into one another nicely. Without any noticeable or jarring cuts. Though Leo mentioned that the water sounds over the archive photograph of me sitting by a pond was somewhat jarring. If we were to revisit the sound design I think that this could be fixed by either bringing it lower in the mix, or by adding similar linking sound effects to the other archive photographs. Or perhaps a mixture of both.

The final step of the post production process was to send it to Luke for colour grading, and for Luke and I to add the titles. The colour grading was really well done, and made the film link together much more than in our non-graded cut. The titles and credits were inspired by westerns, something that I think worked well within our film both through its thematic links to country as well as through the fun and quirky atmosphere it created. We also chose to have the credits appear in time with the final part of the song, and be in the colours of the trans pride flag.

A couple of other things I would have changed during post-production I should have done during this final step. The first is that I would have liked to have added subtitles to the song, as the lyrics draw on a lot of the topics discussed during the film. The use of subtitles would have been a great way to draw attention to this. The second thing I would change is the way that I am credited. I realised after submitting the film that at no point do we introduce the character that is the focus, for all the viewer knows this is just some dude with green hair and no name. Even if I didn’t include a name or anything earlier in the film, it would have been a good idea to have clarity given in the credits by perhaps saying ‘starring and directed by’ or something similar.

Overall:

Overall I feel that Coming Out Country was a success, both in terms of the final film, and the fun that we had making it. It is also a project that I plan to improve by acting on feedback from the crit, as I want to make sure it is as good as it can be and can be added to my portfolio.

Feedback From the Crit:

I know that some of this was covered in the rest of this post, but I have included it anyway :)

Sana:

What Worked Well:

The hand held footage on the farm

The structure

That it took a more personal route than originally intended

What Could Be Improved:

The cutting back and forth between interview, archive, and b-roll didn’t work as well. It would have been nice to remain with the b-roll for longer

It would have been good if my grandfather had been reintroduced into the narrative again, later in the film

The archive photographs could have been used more effectively. Some of them feel as though they were added a bit randomly

Leo:

“This is a really enjoyable film for people who know Tom, and don’t know much about country music. If you touch up the edit a bit it can also be a really enjoyable film for people who don’t know Tom, but enjoy country music.”

What Worked Well:

Fun to watch and listen to

Luke was included as a character (both visually and through audio), but he did not feel overbearing. The choice to not include his face even when he was on screen playing guitar was well made.

The titles

The song was well written and recorded

What Could Be Improved:

Dialogue should have ran under the archive photographs

The water sounds were a bit jarring

The narrative ‘sections’ could have been made to intertwine more, rather than being in distinct blocks

The Class:

What Worked Well:

It was fun to watch

It represented who I was well (it’s just a shame if people didn’t already know me they wouldn’t have known who the person represented was).

What Could Be Improved:

Could have played more on the juxtaposition between the country stereotype of right wing ideologies and my identity

It could have been interesting to have my trans identity act as more of a reveal

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ejzah · 4 years

Text

A/N: Somewhat loosely follows parts of Deliverance. We are slowly getting there, but I’m changing things up a bit more.

***

The Agent and the Lawyer, Part 20

“I should have done something,” Deeks said, running his hands through his hair. Sam and Callen had arrived shortly after Kensi was taken and they’d driven back to the mission together.

The memory of Kensi’s eyes as she looked at him with so much trust-trust he didn’t deserve-was on a constant loop in his mind. He kept replaying the moment, trying to think of what he could have done differently.

“There was nothing you could do,” Callen said, surprisingly calm and resigned.

“That’s debatable.” The quiet condemnation in Sam’s voice was somehow worse than if he’d yelled. Callen cleared his throat pointedly before the conversation could derail.

“Regardless, now we need to focus on getting Kensi back.”

“But we don’t have that freaking black book and we don’t know where Kensi is. The Russians could have taken her anywhere,” Deeks pointed out.

“Guys, you need to get up here right now,” Nell announced, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. She continued to explain as they all raced back up to OPS. “An Anonymous caller phoned in a website to the Navy yard in D. C. They forwarded us the link and Eric just opened it.”

“Kensi?” Deeks asked hopefully as they walked through the sliding doors.

“Yes, but it’s not good. Eric?” He pulled up a video of Kensi standing in an empty room. She looked tense and was standing completely still.

“I’m trying to trace it, but there’s a bunch of proxies,” Eric explained apologetically.

“This is my fault,” Deeks said quietly.

“No, my plan, my fault,” Callen disagreed.

***

Deeks paced as Hetty, Callen, and Sam discussed the plan to exchange Kensi. Nell was currently placing midcrodots, or whatever the hell they were called, in a small book that they would try to pass off as the now infamous black book.

“What if they don’t buy it?” Deeks asked, coming to stand in front of Hetty’s desk. “I mean, these guys do this kind of stuff for a living. What are the chances that they don’t check it out immediately? If the Russians suspect anything, they’ll kill Kensi.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Deeks, we will not let Kensi come to any harm,” Hetty said calmly. He wanted to believe her, but the current plan depended on a lot of chance and trickery. He wanted to believe that Hetty knew what she was doing, but he couldn’t help being doubtful.

He deeply regretted not making up with Kensi. His pride and feelings had been hurt when she pushed his hand away at the bar, but now his reaction felt incredibly juvenile. The reality of how easily he could lose Kensi on any given day was startling clear.

“Contact,” Eric announced, rushing into the room without any of his usual flare. He was as tense as everyone else, maybe even more so maybe since he was responsible for tracing Kensi’s location. “The Russians just posted a time and the place on the Web site. Exchange is in 30 minutes.”

“The book isn’t ready,” Nell said, sounding vaguely panicked, which didn’t reassure Deeks at all. He stood back, silently watching as Hetty deemed Nell’s progress adequate. He wanted to object, but remained silent; he was already riding on thin ice as it was. The last thing he needed was for Hetty to send him home.

“Alright, Mr. Callen, bring her home,” Hetty instructed, clapping her hands together.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked as Sam and Callen discussed how they would handle the exchange. They shared a glance and Deeks rolled his eyes as Callen hesitated.

“Uh, Deeks, you probably should sit this one out. No offense, but this is going to be dangerous and there’s no one to back you up if you run into trouble.”

“I promised Kensi I would get her back,” Deeks reminded them.

“And we will follow through on that promise,” Sam told him. “Right now the best thing you can do for Kensi is keep yourself safe and provide support from here.”

Deeks turned to glance at Hetty, hoping she would override Callen’s decision. She pursed her lips, sighing deeply and gave him a sympathetic look.

“While I understand your position Mr. Deeks, I agree. We don’t need to lose another member of this team today.”

“Hetty-“

“That is my final decision, Mr. Deeks.”

Deeks clenched his jaw, holding back a response that would likely get him kicked out of the mission all together.

Shaking his head, Deeks stalked from the room, needing a few minutes to calm himself. The gym was empty so he ducked in there. A punching bagging was conveniently set up and he hit it a few times, taking out some of his anger on the inanimate object.

His hand began to ache after the first few minutes and it probably would have been a good idea to grab some gloves, but he didn’t stop.

The problem was that Sam and Callen weren’t wrong. He was a liability in the field, especially after today. He hadn’t been able to do anything assist Kensi. Maybe if she hadn’t been worried about him, she would have had a better chance.

He slammed his fist into the bag as hard as he could with an enraged roar that echoed in the empty room.

“Woah, I didn’t realize you boxed too,” Nell commented from behind him. Deeks spun around, slightly embarrassed at having been caught. He usually kept much better control of his anger. “Pretty impressive.”

“I, uh,” He gestured to the bag, then awkwardly brushed at his bangs. “I was just, you know...”

“Yeah, I saw.” She stepped closer, clutching her tablet against her chest. “So, um, I though you might want to look at the stream of Kensi again. You know, just to see if there’s anything we missed.” She held out the tablet until Deeks reluctantly took it.

“I’ve already seen it a dozen times,” he said, but looked again. Kensi stood in exactly the same position. Nell peered over his shoulder, making a noise in the back of her throat.

“She looks tired,” she commented quietly. His stomach clenched again as he realized she was right. When he zoomed in on the picture, he saw beads of moisture sliding down her temples and a fine tremor ran through her body.

“You heard Hetty, there’s nothing I can do,” he reminded her bitterly. He handed the tablet back and gave the bag a final punch, feeling the anger and drive drain from him.

“Are you really going to give up that easily?” Nell’s tone was fairly derisive and she crossed her arms again, giving him a disappointed look. “I haven’t known you that long, Deeks, but you don’t strike me as a guy who goes down without a fight. I’ve seen your court record.”

“This is different.”

“How? You’re a lawyer. You convince people to do things all the time,” Nell said. “I’ve seen you do it here several times. Convince Hetty that you need to go with Sam and Callen.”

“I don’t exactly think I’m Hetty’s favorite person right how,” he pointed out.

“You don’t have to be. You just have to convince Hetty that this is a terrible plan. You know that Sam and Callen can’t do this on their own.”

“You know, you can be really annoying.” He allowed a hint of a smile, which Nell returned briefly before she got back to business.

“I count on it. Now go talk to Hetty before Sam and Callen leave.” Deeks shook his head, in vague amusement. She might be even more stubborn than Kensi, which was a terrifying prospect to consider. “And bring Kensi back in one piece!”

***

A/N: Today’s chapter is a bit shorter, but I thought this was a good place to stop. Especially as I haven’t figured out what Deeks is going to say to convince Hetty to let him go.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #the agent and the lawyer #part 20?#au #densi #kensi Blye #deliverance #ejzah fanfiction

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neocity-sarai · 4 years

Text

Fight for You

❂ concept: cyberpunk/futuristic au!

❂ pairing: mark lee x reader

❂ alerts: angst, fluff, mentions of blood, violence, death

3 years and 2 months that you’ve lived alone. 3 years and 2 months that you’ve survived without the help of your parents or any friends. Sometime ago, the world felt like it was truly ending. Disease and famine plagued the earth, it seemed as all hope was lost. Megacities were ruined from an onslaught of tsunamis, wildfires, and hurricanes. Your parents shielded you with the comfort of your small apartment, the warmth of their embraces to ease the anxiety. Yet, it wasn’t enough. You remember how your 15 year-old-self watched your mother slowly wither away, the disease could have infected her from anywhere: the grocery store, work, or from your own family. It felt unfair, the way people had to die when they had no choice to make money for the roof over their heads or to put food on the table. Your father held you close, his sobs shaking his entire body at the sight of your mother’s dying heart. Your whole world fell as silent as your mother’s heartline when your father whispered in your ear. He told you he was sorry, how he wished that he could tell you everything was going to be alright. He told you, “I don’t have much time left either.”

You could barely blink. You froze in place, your hands shaking at an uncontrollable rate. You eyed him incredulously, “What are you talking about?”

That night, you came home alone. You knew that the disease made adults more vulnerable yet you couldn’t believe that you had lost both of your parents in one day. All you could do was sit in your living room and cry until you couldn’t breathe. You screamed until your lungs heart, the weight of grief crushing your chest- it suffocated you. All that swirled in your head was memories of your mother cooking dinner while your father chased you around the dining table or the way you’d go to the city to explore, laughing in your family’s van as you drove. It was all too much. What were you going to do? Who would you call for help? Your family didn’t have many relatives in the area after your father decided to take a PR job in New York City. You felt all alone, the gloomy, steely skies looked especially lonely outside of your window. You couldn’t even see the sun.

You fell asleep on your living room couch, your muscles sore from the unmoving position of your legs and arms. Deciding to switch on the TV, you were sure that the government would send a social worker to come fetch you- that’s what they always said on the news. Surprisingly, headlines read, “New vaccine formulated by pharmaceutical team at New York Institute of Medicine.” Despite the fact being good news, you felt numb. It didn’t matter because you had lost your family. It was too late. Over the next two years, the government issued a world-wide administration of the vaccine, the diseases had almost disappeared entirely. People were able to go back to work, walk their dogs, and dine out with their friends. The UN had stated each nation would work together to rebuild the damage of what was lost, whole cities were torn down to restart again. Technology advanced just as quickly: the old, ruined world becoming a man-made virtual paradise. Engineers and infrastructure developers reached new heights by building jets that flew at 1,840 miles per hour to skyscrapers that seemed to pierce through heaven. Somehow, by mercy, you managed to see the world change. You survived.

Current time

Of course, there wasn’t a real opportunity to go back to school after the plague, it led you to look for other ways to contribute to the work force instead. In the old world, work consisted of becoming a doctor, a lawyer, even a neighborhood bee-keeper ; as a young kid, you never had a clear idea of who or what you wanted to be. When you started to stabilize yourself by taking small part-time jobs that didn’t require a degree or some form of formal education, you slowly started to accumulate savings. After a while, you had been eyeing a virtual game constructed by the Kynigos company that swept the world by storm. It was everywhere on social media, all of the sign boards that lined 2nd avenue to 7th. Almost every family on your block purchased these visionary headsets that allowed you to see life in a kaleidoscopic lense. When you tried yours on for the first time, it was utterly breathtaking. New York city mimicked that of rainbow road in your old mario kart game, the streets glowed hues of bubblegum pinks and electric blues. The skyscrapers were dripping with panels of evergreens and xanthous yellows as the sky sparkled as a net covered it, the tiny strands glittering with violet crystals. You continued to walk down the block, circles glowing over your eyes and floating signboards that advertised expensive desserts bobbed up and down. As you scanned your surroundings, every person on the street or drivers cruising down the road had their headset on. Cars projected virtual screens that were lined with data codes and numbers. Even the foliage on the trees changed a new color every morning and night, the clouds moved by glitching slightly. It was like you could sweep your fingertips across every color you could think of, the streetlamps dripping gold above your head.

Each time Kynigos uploaded a new software update, people would go ballistic over the installation of game mode. In place of a regular day job, you’d be able to make money by taking investors’ requests and errands. It ran on in-game currency that could be exchanged for real money in which you desperately needed to eat, to live. That’s where you were: you took requests for the smaller investors like fetching their meals or buying their groceries. Moving up, you honed your skills on clearing the game levels, earning access to a database of more promising, richer moguls. They were getting hungry, some of them crossing the law to conduct illegal activities in-game: Kynigos never really enforced the restrictions. No matter how much the government tried to take over the game, it would only gain more and more powerful. They always found their way around it. You had just cleared level 50, your reward was to establish a link with an anonymous client who offered 5 grand in exchange for a person’s identity. Not that you knew who the client or request was, you had become a bounty-hunter chasing for your next bankroll. You didn’t have time to pick and choose. At the corner of your headset screen, a pop-chat window appeared: “Hello. Please refer to me as Mr. C.”

You replied, “Hi. How may I help you?”

“I’m looking for someone who can track down a person that I’ve been trying to find. The request is to confirm their identity and bring them to me. I will raise the reward if need be.”

You continue, “I need that in writing. May I have this person’s file?”

“I will send it over shortly.”

The chat window expands into a link, a typed document of the request along with a signature. You had been cheated out once, you were sure to not let it happen again. When you enlarge the file, it’s a picture of a boy who was much younger than you. He wore a navy blue sweatshirt, his black hair curled on one side of his forehead. His eyes seemed incredibly innocent, his doe irises complimenting the smile that graced his lips ; the sharpness of his cheekbones accentuating his prepubescent face. His name read, “Mark/ Minhyung Lee.” and was last spotted not far from where you lived. You asked, “Mr. C, why are you looking for a kid?”

“I have no obligation to answer that question. Regardless, are you able to do it? If you can’t succeed, I will have to take measures into my own hands.”

With the amount of money that was being offered, you would be set for a while. Taking the request seemed extremely worth it.

“It’s a deal, Mr. C.”

You pulled up your virtual map with a click of a button, the map expanding into the space of your living room. It showed every alleyway, every nook and cranny in the city. You enlarged the floating map with your fingers, zooming in on a couple blocks away from your apartment. From your room, you grabbed your back-pack and changed into a black body-tight outfit (a skin you won as a reward on level 15), and your hair tied in a loose knot. Dashing out the door, you headed for where this Mark was last seen. You walked around the city, scanning the crowds of people as you walked. The street lamps illuminated the moving sidewalk as people talked into their headset by the cafe windows. Colorful lights blossomed on the tiny windows of the tall buildings. How were you supposed to find such a young kid wandering around by himself? Was Mr. C. his father? Maybe a disgruntled relative? You were unsure. You stopped inside a convenience store, the view of a black-haired boy turned around in one of the aisles. You couldn’t see his face, could that be Mark? The cashier sleepily greeted you, his headset sat crookedly on the rim of his forehead. Making your way to the small boy, you walked in front of him to get a better look- it was not him. He looked up at you confusedly, “hey lady, should I get a chocolate bar or a lollipop?”

Pointing at the chocolate bar you winked, “Chocolate for sure.”

The child walked away from you as he perused through the candy aisle more. You felt a hand grab your wrist from behind to be met with a scruffy man who wore tattered clothes and scratched at his dirtied beard. His eyes bulged with hysteria, “Pretty girl, give me that!”

He pointed at your polished headset, his grimy fingers reaching for it. You stumbled back as your heart beat furiously in your chest, “Sir, I don’t want trouble. Please step back from me.”

The man takes another step towards you instead, his rough hands flying to grip your waist, “Say, what’s your name? Want to come with me?”

You try wrenching out of his grip, you shouted for the cashier’s attention- he’s too busy paying attention to the game to even hear you. The man’s fingers make contact with the skin on your hip which causes you to jolt, you struggle to reach for the knife at the bottom of your backpack.

“Sir, kindly back off!”

The homeless man swivels around, facing a boy about the same age as you. Looking at him, you had not ever witnessed a more attractive boy in a while. His hair was a chestnut color, the crest of it gelled over, his face was slim and defined. Even his lips were the prettiest shade of sakura blossoms, his obsidian eyes stern with fury. He pushed up a pair of version 3 cyber-glasses on the bridge of his nose, “Sir, I said to back off!”

Just like that, the homeless man raised his hands in mock surrender as he scampered out of the convenience store- leaving you staring at the handsome boy in front of you.

You nervously adjust yourself, “Um-I- thank you for that.”

The boy gives you a warm smile, one of his hairs falling onto his forehead, “No need to thank me. That guy was being a total creep. Plus, that cashier should be fired for being distracted.”

You laugh, you catch yourself staring at the abundance of watermelon pops in the boy’s hands. He eyes you and then back to his pops, “Oh, would you like one?”

Stammering over your words you shake your head a bit too wildly, “N-no t-thanks! I-I prefer mango?”

Why did you say mango? You hate mango-flavored things. He gives you a hearty chuckle, “Fair enough, mango’s good too.”

It goes without saying anything, you both pay for the treats as you walk on to the sidewalk, a cold breeze making you shiver. The boy cards his fingers through his hair, the streetlamps casting a golden flow on his highlights, “I guess this is where we part. I hope you don’t run into any more creeps.”

You nod at him, “I sure hope not. By the way, what’s your name?”

There, you feel like you’ve messed up. This stranger saves you from some homeless guy and you ask him for his name, his eyes are widened with surprise. You silently sigh in relief when he breaks into a toothy smile, “Yeah, um, My name’s Jonathan.”

His voice comes out a little hesitant, as if he’s not sure. You eye him, “You sure about that, bud?”

“Of course. I was just deciding whether or not to tell you Jon or Jonathan is all.”

You say, “Well, goodbye Jonathan. Thank you for helping me out today.”

You swerve to walk back down the street in which you came, your headset blinking with the weather forecast in the corner of it. You feel a hand catch your shoulder gently, “Wait-t, d-do y-you think we can exchange handles?”

Turning back to the boy, you certainly weren’t expecting him to say that, “Yeah, sure!”

Together, you calibrate your headsets as a glowing icon appears above his head, “Accept Jonathan as a friend?”

You say, “Accept!”

Jonathan’s name adds to your friends list, not that you had any previous names added anyway. He finishes adding to you as well, your name hot on his tongue as he repeats it daintily. Giving you a final wave, you both go your separate ways. You decide to look for Mark in the morning.

Later that night, you find yourself staring at a message notification from Jonathan. Tapping in the air, you press on it- you bite your lip in anticipation. A bubble appears over his message, “You still up?”

You type on your virtual floating keyboard, “I am, wanna chat?”

Another bubble appears: “proceed with projection communication?”

You look yourself up and down, your outfit only consists of a pair of striped pajamas unlike your black suit earlier. You can’t imagine that Jonathan’s dressed up at this hour. Accepting the bubble, a scan of Jonathan’s virtual body appears in front of you as if he’s sitting in your desk chair. He looks different from earlier, he wears a thin t-shirt that reads ‘Vancouver’, his hair glimmers with wet drops from his shower and he holds an acoustic guitar in his hands. At first he doesn’t realize that you’ve accepted the projection call until he drops his guitar to the ground, fumbling in his chair, “Oh! hi-i, I didn’t see you there for a second..”

You laugh at his silliness, “you were the one who initiated the call in the first place!”

“Still! One second, I need to get something.”

When he finally returns, he holds a bowl of cereal in his hands, spooning sugary flakes into his mouth before toasting the bowl, “Cereal baby!”

“Who eats cereal at this hour?”

“Me- I do!”

You smile at him, leaning back into your pillows, it’s almost too surreal that it feels like Jonathan is staring right back at you from your room. It’s like he’s right there with you.

You continue, “So, what do you like to do in your free-time?”

He looks up from his bowl, “Hm, I uh- I guess I just listen to music or watching Netflix? Something like that?”

“I see you have a guitar by you, do you play well?”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously, “I wouldn’t say too good but I do enjoy playing? I write a bit too.”

“Can you play something for me?”

He gives you a playful smirk before breaking into a high-pitched laugh, “Put me on the spot now aren’t we?”

You reply, “You kind of set yourself up by bringing out a guitar. Of course I was going to ask.”

With a heavy sigh, he mumbles, “This is a song that I wrote when I started living on my own.”

You feel your heart swell at the sight of this stranger whispering soft words of song, the strums of his guitar filling the emptiness of your room. When he’s finished, you give him a standing ovation, “What do you mean not too good? You’ve got talent.”

He rubs his eyes tiredly, “Gotta stay humble, you know?”

Your memory plays back to Jonathan’s words: “I started living on my own.”

You tread into unknown waters, “Listen, let me know if this is too personal but when did you start living alone?”

Visibly, his frame becomes stiffened, his lips press into a thin line, “About three years ago? I think?”

He’s the same as you. You continue, “Do you still keep in touch with your parents?”

A flash of pain coats Jonathan’s face, his teeth sink into his lower lip anxiously, “You know-w, I-I think we should call it a night-t?”

You’ve pushed too far. “Oh, yes- sure. Right, good night.”

Like that, Jonathan’s projection disappears from your desk chair, the call ending with a beep. You throw your headset to your nightstand with a clang, throwing your head into your pillow. You doubt that Jonathan wants to talk to you after pressing into his private matters.

When morning comes, your heart jumps at the notification at the top of your messages bar. You click on it, Jonathan’s audio file plays, “Hey-y, I-I’m reallly sorry for uh- I-I kind of left you hanging last night? Can we meet up and talk? Possibly? Let me know when you get this.”

You respond back to him, “Hey, don’t apologize. It was my fault for pushing you where you weren’t comfortable. I’ll forward my address.”

Within the next hour or so, you find Jonathan standing in your doorway as he raises a bag of mango and watermelon pops from the convenience store in his hand. You usher him in, “You got here quite fast..”

He smiles at you, setting the bag on your table, “I’m pretty speedy. Also, you’ve got a nice pad.”

“Oh- yeah, technically it used to be my parents but they well- they passed away.”

His face turns somber, his features darkening with hurt, “I’m sorry for your loss y/n.”

Trying your best, you muster a small smile at him, “It’s okay. Can I get you anything? Water?”

“I-uh- no, I’m good.”

With a heavy sigh, Jonathan plops himself on your couch, his eyes shifting to the vibrant city view outside, “Anyway, I-I just wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly last night.”

Shaking your head, you answer regretfully, “No, it was completely my fault, I should be sorry.” The features on his face turn sharper. He stiffens again, his fists curl beside him on the couch, “I also haven’t been too honest about myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“My name isn’t Jonathan. That’s just an alias- my real name is Mark. Mark Lee.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat. The boy that your client is after is sitting on your living room couch. How could you not recognize him? Your headset tab has his file bookmarked- he was a child then. Of course, he’s matured.

“Why would you lie about your name?”

Jonathan- now, Mark sighs, “Because, I have to. You asked me about my parents? They were murdered by some gang leaders because they owed them money so we could survive the plague. They did what they had to so we could live. They’re still after me.”

You hand flies to your mouth in shock, “Mark, I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I-”

Mark places a warm hand on yours, “It’s okay- don’t be sorry y/n. Just don’t tell anyone.”

“Not a word, I swear on it.”

Mark picks himself up to move closer to you, your knees almost touching, “When did you start living alone?”

The memories of you watching the doctors send your parents’ bodies to the morgue surface in your mind. You can’t stop the flood that breaks the dam. Digging your nails into your palm, you sniffle, “My parents passed away from the plague on the same day. Like yours, they had to work and go outside for us to survive. I was on the streets a bit before I could make money myself.”

It’s impossible. You can’t stop the tears that stream on your cheeks. You squeeze your eyes shut, “I miss them so much.”You feel a thumb swipe your tears away. You open your eyes to see a blurry vision of Mark’s concerned face, his fringe swept on one side of his forehead, “I’m here, it’s okay. I miss mine too.”

In a split second, you fall into the crook of Mark’s chest, snuggling into his arms. You hear the slow thrum of his heartbeat, the music that beats with his soul. It’s beautiful, the way his doe eyes gaze down at you and the way it feels when you reach up to sweep the hair out of his eyes, “Thank you, Mark.”

He doesn’t say anything, he continues to rub circles on your back comfortingly as he thumbs your hand in his lap. Afterwards, you and Mark decide to eat dinner with Mark in the city. With Mark beside you, everything seems ten times more vibrant. Musicians play on the streets, their instruments laced with colorful threads (bonus items that tune your instrument automatically). Robotic helpers roll around in the restaurants as they pick up tabs, refill waters, and do little things that could be cumbersome for humans. You and Mark sit on the second floor of your favorite ramen restaurant, one that your parents frequented often. Laughing at the way Mark slurped his noodles made you happier. For some odd reason, Mark reminded you of the comfort that your parents had- a warm glow that always brightened the room. He placed his chicken into your bowl, forcing you to eat his no matter how much you protested. When you were done, Mark led you to the third story of the restaurant, a rooftop garden that overlooked the city. The view was breathtaking: the skyline reflected an ocean of colors onto the water as the Brooklyn bridge allowed flying vehicles to soar across the sky. You both sat on the edge of the building, Mark pulling your body closer to his. He rested his head on your shoulder as he hummed some unrecognizable song, the honking of cars is the only thing that disrupts him. Steadily, you brought a hand to the scar on his cheekbone- causing him to raise his head at you. Mark leaned further into your touch, his hair fluttering in the wind slightly, “Can I um, kiss you?”

Smiling, you crash your lips onto yours, his lips feeling plush and soft at first. You move one hand to entwine Mark’s hairs in between your fingers, causing him to let out a moan. Your kiss grows more passionate as you part your mouth for him to move his tongue, your body temperatures rise- an alert pops on to your headsets. Ignoring it, Mark leans further into your lips while you arch your back on the roof. He pushes you flat against the concrete, his lips detach from yours with a sound. When you look at him, Mark’s half lidded eyes and swollen lips pop from the colorful netted sky that hangs above him, you say, “Wow, you’re good Mark Lee.”

He laughs into your shoulder, his giggle full of mirth. You don’t resist when he presses a kiss to your lips for the second time, you take harder control than he does. You roll onto your side so you can climb on top of him instead. Mark reaches up to place a hair behind your ear before you lean in to press a kiss to his nose. His eyes glimmer with adoration, “y/n, the things you’re doing to me right now-”

Mark starts to press a burning kiss to the hollow of your neck, you pause when a notification flashes on your messages bar. You open it, it’s from Mr. C. It reads, “Y/n. I’m afraid you’re out of time.” You scramble off of Mark, causing him to yelp, “Oh god, y/n, I-I’m so sorry, I- did- I go too far? I shouldn’t have done that- oh my-”

You press your hand to Mark’s lips, “It’s not you. I have to tell you something, it’s-”

“What? What’s wrong?”

You both sit up, “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you earlier I just forgot about it because we were talking and I-I just don’t-”

Mark’s expression turns firm, “What is it?”

“I just passed level 50 in-game. I got a request from a client and he told me he was after you and I took it because I thought I needed the money and now that I know you’re the person he wants, I don’t know what to do-he says we’re out of time!”

Mark looks down, his face morphing into slow pain, “Did you have that request since we met?”

You shout at him, “Yes! But, I was never going to sell you out, I swear! I started to like you and I wouldn’t have done that!”

Marks still casts his eyes down, “Y/n, I have to go right now- I can’t be outside-”

“You’re too late!”

You and Mark swivel your heads to see a skinny man dressed in a plaid suit hop off his emerald hoverboard, a pistol sits in the grip of his hand, “I’ve got you now Mark Lee! And y/n has led me straight to you!”

Mark practically leaps across you, forcing you to move behind him, “Just stay behind me.”

You place your hands on Mark’s shoulders, gripping him tightly. The man- Mr. C. looks hysterical when he flashes Mark a sinister grin, “Your parents still haven’t paid their debt. You’ll serve as compensation.”

He aims his gold-lined pistol at Mark, cackling before he sends a smoking bullet flying to Mark’s chest without a warning. You scream, Mark falling on his side as he clutches his wound. Mr. C. spits in your direction before zipping off on his hoverboard, leaving you to press your hands to Mark’s body. Already, your hands are covered in crimson blood, you smell the iron scent of it and it makes you sick. You don’t even realize that you’re screaming now, “Hold on! I’m going to get you to a hospital okay? Hold on!”

Mark lets out a weak cough, his eyes failing to stay open. You cradle his head, “Mark? Mark, stay awake! Stay with me, please!”

Once more, he reaches up a bloodied palm to your cheek, your tears falling onto his shirt, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

You whimper, “It’s not okay! Don’t leave me! I’ll be alone again!”

The hot tears blur your vision, it’s getting harder to not collapse. You see Mark smile at you, “you know, you’re the only person that’s made me feel less lonely since my parents died.”

Clutching his hand, you feel the calloused skin along his palm, wanting to savor every bit of him, “Mark, I’ve fallen for you.”

Nodding, “And I, you.”

With the last bit of strength he has, Mark kisses you with scarlet fire before letting out a bone-chilling groan. His lips fall away from yours, his body landing on the roof with a thump. You hold your breath, your head pounds with harsh pain. You can’t believe the sight of Mark’s once musical spirit so bereft of life. Finally, your breath hitches at a notification that appears in your message inbox at the top of your virtual screen, “hello, y/n.”

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s-and-n-writes · 4 years

Text

scarred, broken, and mended

summary: She felt the weight of the ring on the string around her neck and could feel her scars.

No, she thought, not wanting to get lost in the memories, not now. I can do this later.

So she plastered on a smile, tied an apron, and started frosting some cupcakes.

That night, she allowed herself to feel, and cried herself to sleep, plagued by nightmares of black leather and a feral grin.

pairing: jason todd x marinette dupain cheng, red hood x ladybug, red hood x multimouse

quick links:

| next chapter >

| miraculous masterlist | series masterlist |

inspired by:

scars, freckles and names, and gotham mouse, paris bug, both by @izzybellepenguin

warnings:

trigger warnings, abuse, mentions of abuse, angst, evil! adrien

a/n: Maribat Jasonette Fic. violence and bullying. there might be another tw but i don't know. the possible tw will start at ~~ and end at ~~. the definite tw will start from the first word and end at ~:~.normal intro notes. i'm s of s and n. also this is going to be angsty for a long time. also I've never read the comics or watched the movies for batman but i've read almost every maribat fic so plz come at me. thank u

Crack .

Marinette sunk down against the wall, holding her, now broken, wrist. Tears were streaming down her face as she held in a sob.

“Stop bullying Lila, you filthy bitch! God, why was I ever friends with you,” Alya whisper-yelled at her. They were in an empty classroom after school ended and nobody was around. Still, Alya took care to be quiet. Lila was standing behind her, complete with fake tear tracks and a massive smirk.

As Alya slapped her again, leaving her cheek red, Lila continued to fake sob about how she “couldn’t believe Marinette would act like this” and how she “makes it so hard to forgive her”.

~:~

“It’s fine, Lila. She deserves this. You are a much better person,” Alya said, and they walked away together. Alya continued spewing out encouragement and praise until Marinette couldn’t hear them anymore. She finally let out her sobs but quickly wiped her eyes. She had to be home soon, before her shift at the bakery started.

She got up, cradling her wrist, and put up her hood to cover her red face and puffy eyes. Marinette had changed what she wore after the first time they left visible bruises. Now, she wore a black hoodie over a pink shirt, with grey pants, and kept her signature purse (I never liked writing clothes so just imagine them). She made them, and she signed everything with her signature: MAT. She had made a fashion brand online after Jagged Stone had asked for more pieces, and soon Clara Nightingale had asked for a few too. Eventually, her brand, MAT, was famous and celebrities everywhere wanted something. It stood for Marinette And Tikki, for her favorite tiny god. She knew Tikki would be there for her, no matter what.

Oh no! She was going to be late! Marinette took off, trying to rush home, when she winced and had to slow down. She had forgotten that her ankle was sprained after Alya pushed her down the stairs. She limped home quickly, entering through the back door. She didn’t need her parents realizing she wasn’t home yet.

Marinette hobbled up the steps and into her room, putting down all her books and collapsing on her bed. Tikki came out of her purse and flew near her.

“Marinette! Are you okay? Are you hurt too badly?” Tikki asked, full of concern for her favorite Ladybug.

“No. My face hurts but the main thing is my wrist. I think it’s broken,” Marinette said, trying to stuff the pain and sadness down. It was a habit even though Hawkmoth was defeated. She was just so used to pushing all her emotions down that she couldn’t stop. Blank-faced, she sat up and wiped away the tears. Her face was almost back to normal and she needed to start healing now since her shift started in 10 minutes.

Marinette started chanting the healing spell she learned from the Grimoire. After Master Fu had passed over guardianship, she had taken it upon herself to learn the Guardians’ magic, as it would help her. Right now, she had to heal her wrist. FInishing the chant, she took a sip of the potion needed to complete the spell. Marinette scrunched her face in disgust. No matter how many times she drank it, it still tasted like a mix of broccoli, sock, and camembert. Odd combination, but what can you do?

Now that her wrist was almost fully healed, (it still hurt to move it a lot), she needed to run down for her shift. If she was late, her parents would ground her, and that would hinder her patrol schedule. Even though Hawkmoth was defeated, she and Chat Noir had kept their Miraculous. Well, that’s not completely true.

Chat Noir started out as a good partner, if not a little too flirty. As time went on, however, he started being less helpful. He would flirt aggressively and try to force Ladybug on dates, which made him useless in battles, but at least he would try. Once, he even went as far as to refuse to help defeat an akuma.

During the battle with Hawkmoth, however, when he was revealed to be Gabriel Agreste, Chat Noir fought hard , with an intensity Ladybug didn’t know he could have. It was completely new and seemingly out-of-character for the guy who would constantly get killed and controlled by akumas. Honestly, Marinette was a bit scared. She had to physically stop Chat Noir from cataclysming Hawkmoth.

After Hawkmoth was defeated, Ladybug decided not to reveal identities, since Chat Noir was kind of annoying. Not to mention, he was incompetent in fights and generally terrifying during the battle with Hawkmoth. Not a great person to know your deepest secret.

Chat Noir kept pushing for a reveal, how he deserved this for taking down Hawkmoth, and how everything would be great because they could finally date. Ladybug had no interest, and when she said so and refused the reveal, Chat Noir went crazy.

He began demanding and begging for a reveal, saying how they were ‘soulmates’ and they could ‘ finally start dating’ and how they were ‘perfect’ for each other. When that didn’t work, he was following her on patrol, trying to find out where she lived. Chat Noir and Adrien both got closer to Marinette as well. Chat Noir would stop by and vent about how Ladybug was rejecting him, and how Marinette was so similar to her. Adrien would hang out closer to her and Marinette saw him stealing glances at her during gym and lunch. Normally, this would have made her giddy, but her crush had died the day he said to ‘take the high road’.

Marinette could deal with this. She could deal with the following, the venting, and the begging. It was annoying , but not the worst. Then, it happened. Ladybug was out on patrol and Chat Noir was following her, as usual. He stopped her by yelling and caught up. Then, he grinned, and it was more animal than human.

~~ (possible trigger warning)

Ladybug could see the malice in his eyes when he pinned her on the ground. His claws traced her face, then it started. Chat Noir growled and tried to rip her suit, rip her mask, do anything to be able to identify her. He even tried to remove her Miraculous, but thankfully she had enchanted them so they couldn’t be removed by force. Then, he tried his ‘Hail Mary’.

“CATACLYSM,” Chat Noir yelled, no, growled , and Ladybug’s eyes went wide. His hand went to her left side and Ladybug screamed. She could feel the cracks on her skin, could feel the dark energy zooming across her body. She went limp, and Chat Noir jumped away, seeing how the suit cracked but didn’t come off. It left scars from the left side of her rib cage, stretching around to the right side of her stomach. The main one was on the front, but there were many smaller ones, branching from the main one and covering her back.

~~ (possible trigger warning ends)

After all of that, Marinette knew she had to take back the Miraculous. With a heavy heart, Ladybug called Chat Noir to the top of the Eiffel Tower and took back his Miraculous. It was hard but ultimately worth it. Even now, walking down to the bakery, she felt the weight of the ring on the string around her neck and could feel her scars.

No , she thought, not wanting to get lost in the memories, not now. I can do this later . So she plastered on a smile, tied an apron, and started frosting some cupcakes.

That night, she allowed herself to feel, and cried herself to sleep, plagued by nightmares of black leather and a feral grin.

quick links: | next chapter >

a/n: so updates will be there and if i miss the schedule, it will be there. i will try and update every week. plz comment if you enjoy. comment if you dont. if i fail miserably at writing let me know.

tagging:

so we’ll be starting a taglist for this series, and we’ll be tagging people who liked the post before. if you don’t want to be part of the taglist, sorry about that! shoot us message and we’ll remove your tag, no offense taken. if you want to be part of the taglist, send us an ask/message and we’ll add your name!

@charme-de-malchan @aveline-rose @bookblokeanoid

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