#and i am spinning several plates at once already over here

[thehotelpod]

working on getting the discord back up in the air and back into a place to discuss the show, share art, and do all the things we love and miss about the discord.

I’ll be in there this Saturday at noon to talk about our on going patreon episode but also about whatever Hotel stuff anyone likes.

i’ll see you saturday!

#i only use discord for work stuff #and there were like 6 mods before #and i am spinning several plates at once already over here #but i sure do miss it #we’ll figure it out #join us won’t you

[lincolndjarin]

no kinktober this week!! sorry!!

i'm severely burned out right now and in all honesty it's hard for me to find joy in my writing when it feels so forced. that being said i don't want to just leave y'all hangin' so i'm gonna do something different from now until the end of october.

next monday through friday i'll be doing five more days or drabbles/oneoffs, oct 30th i will be posting a longer joel one off i've been working on for a bit and on oct 31st i'll be posting a little din piece i've been working on.

under the cut i'm gonna put in some wips from what i already have along with a poll and i'll be doing the top five !! don't feel obligated to read the wips, they're there if you wanna see what direction i've been taking them but feel free to just vote lmao

little warning here, some of these wips are dddne, and contain dubcon/noncon elements. to be safe i am going to highlight any wips containing that content red.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Joel Miller x Food Play

Shuffling out of your jeans you kick the rest of your clothes off, tossing them onto the table until you're completely bare. Once you’re done you reach over, grabbing your apron and pulling it over your head, tying the cord around your waist. The thin fabric just barely covers your chest, the outline of your nipples pokes through the blue checkered pattern. You give yourself one quick once over in the reflection of the sliding glass door before grabbing both plates, carefully stepping back into the living room where Joel’s eyes are still glued to the screen as he cleans up the takeout containers, setting them aside. 

“Need any help in there, sugar-” He finally looks over at you, breath hitching as you set the plates down on the coffee table.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Din Djarin x Sex Pollen (din and reader are married but still marking this bc sex pollen)

“Din?” You call back towards your riduur, he’s right where you left him, sitting on a crate inside the open hull of the ship, watching you with a keen eye. He’s on his feet the moment you start teetering, your head is spinning and thankfully he gets to you just in time to catch you. The contact alone has you reeling, an obscene moan falling from your lips.

“Mesh’la? What’s wrong?” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Ezra x Anal

You’ve been on this planet too long. Both of you bored of waiting out the dust storm indoors, after a while all you can really do to keep yourselves entertained is fuck. 

So when he asked if he could try something different, you’d said yes, if not purely for the sake of breaking up the monotony. 

But now you’re one all fours and exactly as you’d predicted, he’s going too fast, far too eager to fuck you as he scissors his slick fingers inside you. 

He’s as rough as ever as he pushes into you, far before you’re ready, you can barely catch your breath. 

“Ez!” You squeak out as the burning sensation shoots through your body.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Marcus Moreno x Praise Kink

“Did you have a rough day at work?” With a long whine he nods, his thrusts get sloppy and you tsk him. “Slow down, I’ll take care of you, okay?” You wrap your legs around him, digging your ankles into his back and pushing him into you completely. “Can you stay right here?” 

“Yes ma’am.” He mumbles, his thick rimmed glasses slipping down his face. 

“You don’t have to be so formal, Marcus.” You brush a stray lock of hair out of his face.

“Sorry mommy.” His voice is barely a whisper as he turns beet red. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Joel Miller x CNC

“Touch it.” The low timber of his voice rumbles from behind you as you feel him push himself up against you. 

“Please-” Your plea is cut off as his hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just once as a warning. 

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to.” He rocks his hips forward again, grinding his erection against your open palms.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Agent Whiskey x Impact Play

He never uses his belt as a punishment. 

And he’ll never touch you when he’s mad. 

He’s very particular about that. 

But on good days, you can convince him to bend you over his knee and leave your ass raw and red.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Javier Peña x Fuck or Die

“If you move so much as an inch I’ll paint this room with your brains.” He snarls, gun still pressed firmly against your skull, you can feel his knee dig deeper into your back as he groans. “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” His voice is low and deadly in your ear, this is exactly the kind of thing you’d been warned about when you started doing entry level cartel work, now look where it’s gotten you. “I’m gonna get off of you and you’re gonna roll over, then you’re gonna do whatever I say without hesitation.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Poe Dameron x Knife Play

Your eyes flutter open as you groan in pain, you aren’t sure what’s happening, it’s too dark in your room but you’re acutely aware of something holding your head in place. You’re trying to focus your vision but it’s too dark, someone is pulling your hair. You’re about to scream, you can feel it bubbling in your throat but a hand swiftly covers your mouth.

“Shh… It’s okay.” You’d recognize his voice anywhere. He’s been plaguing your life for weeks now, you didn’t think you’d ever hear his voice again yet here he is.  “You know what happens if you scream.” He murmurs before slowly removing his hand from your mouth.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Poe & Din x Threesome

You’ve never seen him before and you can’t help but be curious, you’ve never seen a Mandalorian before, you don’t think it’s typical for them to room with rebel pilots like this, but Poe says he’s down on his luck, just trying to lay low. He pays his rent on time and to Poe that's all that matters. 

“Poe…” You murmur, pushing him back a bit.

“Mhmm, I know.” He hums, shoving his face back into the crook of your neck until you can’t help but moan as you make eye contact with him.  Or whatever you would call staring at his helmet.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Dieter Bravo x Exhibitionism

Dieter is gone a lot. 

Press tours, filming, premiers, you name it, he’s gone often. 

Which leaves you where you are now, in his way too big house, with too much time on your hands. So you order take out and you do yoga and when you miss him you’ll watch his interviews on Youtube. 

But most of the time you just stay in his bed, with a vibrator between your legs. 

Dieter has a particularly healthy sexual appetite, and you’ve unfortunately gotten used to that. So when he leaves, you’re left horny and alone.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

#lincolndjarin

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 1

Well.  I mentioned an idea. You guys seemed to like it.  Who am I to deny you guys what you want?  It’s only just beginning.  Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times.  If you don’t, you could be sucked into the reality too.  

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.  

You woke up the sound of birds chirping and the sun blazing into your room from the window.  The bed was warm from the sunlight, but you weren’t focused on that.  Your head was pounding, as if the birds were more like freight trains going through a station.  You couldn’t even remember when you went to sleep last night.  Were you drinking the night before?  

Actually, why does your room seem bigger than it was?  The alcohol must’ve played with your mind more than you realized.  You shook the thoughts out as you heard a light knock on the door.  

“Come in,” You called out to the mystery person.  The door opened with a small creak, and the person revealed themselves.  

It was Loki. 

He was dressed in a suit, carrying a tray that had several plates and a glass on it.  One plate contained eggs and sausage, another had toast with butter on it, and next to it, an apple.  (What color was it?  Why couldn’t you tell?) The glass had water, and finally, there was a small vase next to that containing a single tulip.  

“Loki,” You smiled lightly.  You quickly sat up in bed as he walked over, a small smile on his face.  

“Good morning, love.  I figured I would offer you a little breakfast before I left for work.”  He placed the tray down on your lap gently.  He sat down next to you for a moment, admiring your features.  

You laughed a little at how romantic he could be.  “You’re too sweet to me sometimes.  Almost as sweet as this apple is,” You stated as you quickly grabbed the apple, tossing it in the air, and then taking a bite out of it once you caught it again.  You grinned at him as you heard something behind you.  It almost sounded like laughter.  

“I could never.  I just want to show you how much I love you,” He kissed the top of your head.  You stared at him lovingly for a moment as you pondered a thought.  

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand how we got this far.” 

“Me neither,” He laid a hand on your cheek, kissing your head once more.  “Well, I should leave before I’m late.  Mr. Hart will have my head if I’m late again.”  He chuckled. 

You nodded and said goodbye to Loki as he made his way towards the door.  For a brief moment pain panged your chest.  A sadness that you couldn’t pinpoint.  It was like your heart felt that everything would be over as soon as Loki left, but you couldn’t understand why.  

“Oh, and darling, don’t forget about visiting our new neighbors.  Agnes said they just moved in a few days ago.  Perhaps we can show them around the neighborhood one day.”  

“New neighbors?  Well, I’ll pay them a visit after I finish this wonderful breakfast!” 

~

After Loki left and you finished eating, you placed the dishes in the sink and went to get dressed.  You found countless dresses and not a single seemingly comfortable outfit in your closet.  You finally settled on a dress with a sweetheart neckline.  It went down right past your knees and it was sleeveless.  It looked the most comfortable out of the bunch at least.  

You finally headed outside, where you were greeted with a clear sky and several neighbors outside, mowing their lawns or leaving for work.  You smiled and waved to many of them.  Herb, your next door neighbor, waved back, forgetting that he was mowing.  Just as you were about to warn him, he mowed over a rubber ball that was in the way, causing pieces to fly everywhere.  You giggled lightly and shook your head.  

It wasn’t hard to find the new neighbors’ house as it still had a box or two on the deck. You quickly walked over and knocked on the door.  “Just one moment!” You heard a voice call out from the house.  Her voice sounded so familiar to you, yet you couldn’t pinpoint who it could’ve been.  

The woman opened the door with a bright smile.  Just as she was about to greet you, her smile faltered.  She recognized you immediately.  She shook the thoughts out of her head.  “Good afternoon!”  She said. 

“Howdy neighbor!  I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!”  You responded.  You didn’t know what you wanted to do.  Something seemed off about the woman.  

“Why thank you!” She exclaimed.  “Please, come on in, I’m Wanda.” She smiled. 

You walked into the home, admiring how well-kept it was already for someone who just moved in.  “I’m (Y/N)!  It’s a pleasure to meet you.  What brings you here to Westview?” 

“Oh, well my husband and I decided it was time to settle down and we thought Westview was the perfect place.”  

“How wonderful!  Where’s your husband if I may ask?” You asked, sitting down on the couch.  

Wanda sat down next to you, moving a magazine that was still on the cushion.  Agnes must’ve been here already.   “Oh, he just went to work!  His name is Vision,” She smiled.  

“Aw, and how long have you guys been together?”  You asked.  For a split second it seemed like Wanda was confused.  

“Well, let’s just say it seems like time flies by and I can’t keep track of it.” She giggled.  You smiled lightly at her response.  “What about you?  Do you have a husband?” 

“Yes, Loki,” You shook your head at the thought of him.  “It’s been a bumpy road to get to the place we’re at, but I love him and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“And how long have you two been together?” 

You thought about it for a moment.  You couldn’t answer it honestly.  “I don’t quite know.  We got married recently, though I couldn’t tell you the precise date.  It seems like I’m the same way, I just can’t keep track of time!”   The two of you laughed politely. 

It led into a further conversation between the two of you, where you discovered that her anniversary is tonight and she was planning something special.  You wished her the best of luck as you left, going back home.  You had to get dinner ready for when Loki came home at least.  

The walk back home seemed odd.  The sun was shining, a few of your neighbors were outside walking their pets or going to run errands, but everything seemed... Fake.  Like it was all just an act to you.  The smiles on everyone’s faces were exaggerated, as if they were doing it just to prove to you that they’re happy.  

The strangest thing happened when you passed by someone and accidentally knocked into their shoulder.  You turned around quickly to apologize when you noticed their eyes were an emerald green.  The color was so bright and that’s when it hit you: No other color seemed nearly as bright. 

You apologized to him as he smiled and waved it off.  He began to walk away as you watched him.  You didn’t turn back until he turned the corner, out of your sight.  

~

The day passed by rather quickly and Loki came home, giving you a kiss on the cheek as soon as he walked in.  “Hello, darling,” He said sweetly. 

“Hi honey, how was your day?” You asked, cutting a potato up to put in the stew you were making for dinner.  He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his head on your shoulder, watching you cut it.  

“Boring.  The same old boss with the same old paperwork.  Although there was a new guy in the department.  Vision.  Is he the new neighbor by chance?” 

“He must be!  I met his wife when I went over, Wanda.  Oh she’s a sweetheart.  It’s their anniversary tonight, but I think we should invite them over for dinner one day.” 

“That sounds like a marvelous idea.” He smiled.  You smiled back at him, but it seemed odd.  He knew something was wrong after that. 

“Darling?  You seem off.  Is something wrong?” 

“No, not at all.  Well, maybe... Okay, yes!  Something seems wrong.”  Once again you heard canned laughter in the back of your head.  You shook the thought out of your head.  

Loki took his hand in yours, placing the knife down, spinning you around.  “What’s wrong?” He asked, tilting your chin up to look him in the eyes.  

“I was walking home today and I bumped into someone.  I’ve never seen him before, and you should’ve seen his eyes!  They were green!  Such a bright green.”  

“Now, don’t go gushing about another man’s eyes or else I’ll get jealous,” He playfully glared.  You smiled at the joke and rolled your eyes. 

“Still, Loki.  Something seemed wrong.  They were just... Unusually bright.  And I’ve seen everyone here.  There’s something... Normal about everyone.  He didn’t seem normal in the slightest bit.” 

“Well, I know this may seem shocking to you, but we do have visitors every once in a while.”

You grabbed a piece of potato on the cutting board and flicked it to him lightly, making him pull away a little and laugh.  “I’m just saying, don’t think too hard about it.  You’ll give yourself a migraine that way.” 

“You’re right, you’re right.”  You sighed.  

“Everything is quite alright.” 

--------H̸̼͍̹̣͉͑̽̉ͅe̸͉̺̮͊̆l̸̬͕̙̖̤͉̦̗̉͆͑̿͋̈́l̵̢̬̟͇͇̰̠̤̼̺̺̯͉͋͑̈́̅ơ̵̧̛̰͉̠͔̯̾̅͌̈́̉͒̉͛͛̆?̵̨̟̻̼̲͉͚̫͖̭̦̲́̃͗̍̈́̽̓̐̋̔́̿ ̶̧̤̮̼̘̫̫͉́̈́̏̎̍͑̄̂̾̈̚ ̷͓͉̞͔̲͎̫̫͙͂̋̈́̑͜ͅC̶̨̛̐̓͑̂͌̚̚ͅͅȁ̸̘͇̟̻͆̚n̸̛̝͖̥̟̤̦͌̑̉͑̋̋̈́̔̇͐̕̕ ̶̝̹̭̰̰͚̭̩̭̭̳̈́y̶̡̩̼̑̀̆o̵̘̜̫̽̌͛̈́̅͛̋͂͋͠ų̸͈̂͗̔̆̉͑̔͑̿̃͑̚͝ ̷̢̫͔̞̰͉̦̱͙͓͉̀̊͛͜ͅh̷̼̱͚̗̭͎̳͔͕̒̇̌͆̔̐̽͋͜͜͜͝e̴̼̍̓ą̸͕̩͔͍̱͉͚̻͓̇̆̃̅̔̇̈ͅr̴̡̛̫̭̪̭̤̯̺̖̜̯̫̈̾̋͝ ̴̛̪͊̌͒͛̔̐̈́̊̏̿͝m̷̨̢̠̲̫̗̤̜̍̐̇͐̆̐̋̕ě̷̡̙̫̟̬͙͙͙̲͚̞̅̒̽?̴̧̻̠͉̩̥̒̓̀̅̀̊̿͒͑͠ͅ ̸͔̳̺͂̓̓́͛̾͜---------

“What have you seen from her side of the show?” 

“It’s all just like Wanda’s.  She’s trapped.” 

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #marvel #wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #scarlet witch #avengers #reader #fanfiction #fanfic #romance #Reality Check Masterlist

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Hayloft p.3

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, death, abuse, and sexual assault (depictions of none, though)

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this took to publish! Work and school have been CRAZY!

Citation: (This is absolutely cited incorrectly but the poem included was found at this link!) https://rememberingthesixties.wordpress.com/2014/11/15/love-poems

Read the Previous Chapters!

Part 1  Part 2

_________________________________

“No! No! No! I ain’t got time for this today!” You groaned, twisting your key in the ignition only to hear the engine struggle to turn over. You were already running late to work, thanks to you misplacing your shoes, purse, and keys all on the same morning. When it was really only just you, your dad, and Arvin living in your home, it was ridiculous to be losing things as often as you did. It’s not like they were touching them. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was some gremlin that lived in the linen closet and hid your things to make life more difficult.

Of course, your car wouldn’t work either. What a fantastic beginning to the day.

You weren’t even sure what could be wrong with the car. It had worked just fine yesterday. There was no reason for it to suddenly fall apart on you. But alas, after several minutes of trying to start the car and checking what basic things you knew about under the hood to no avail, you gave out a groan of anger, “Damnit!”

With an angry kick of your old tire, you stomped back into the house. “Everythin' okay?” Arvin asked from the dining room table, where he sat eating a plate of toast and eggs.

“I was already running late this morning and now my stupid car won’t start,” you grumbled, throwing your purse onto the open chair and taking the phone off the receiver on the wall with more aggression than you intended. You were spinning the dial and putting in the phone number to the diner you worked at.

Arvin leaned forward in his seat, “I can take a look at it for you, if you’d like.”

“That would be great if you’re willing to but-” You began to answer but you stopped abruptly and held up a finger to him when a voice answered on the phone.

“Molly’s Diner. How can I help ya?” A woman’s voice that you recognized as your coworker Charlene asked from the other side.

“Hey, Charlene?” You asked, shooting Arvin an apologetic look for the sudden interruption. She sounded surprised to hear your greeting on the other end.

“Where you at, girl?” She questioned, the ambient wound of the busy diner in the background.

You leaned against the wall, gripping the phone with both hands, “I know I’m late! I’m sorry! My car broke down and I don’t think I can make it-”

“I can give you a ride if you need.” Arvin offered quiet enough for Charlene to not hear him on the other end but you perked up.

“Wait, hang on-” You interrupted Charlene just as she began to respond, “I can actually get a ride in.” You mouthed a sincere thank you to Arvin while holding onto the phone with both hands, feeling a slight glimmer of hope in your otherwise crappy day.

“You know what? Don’t even worry about it. You’re already so late just take the day off and get your car fixed. Just be here tomorrow, alright?” You could almost hear the way Charlene’s hand was waving dismissively from the other end of the phone.

You sighed in relief, “Thank you so much. I’ll make it up to you!” After a few brief goodbyes, you hung the phone up on the receiver.

Arvin stood up and placed his plate in the sink, “So are you needin’ a ride to work?”

You shook your head, “No, Charlene said to just take the day off ‘n get the car fixed. Thank you, though. It really is sweet of you to offer.”

Arvin only shrugged, “C’mon, after all you done for me, givin’ you a ride into town really ain’t much at all. I’d still be more than happy to take a look under your hood if you’d like.”

You blushed and tried to suppress the immature giggles that threatened to slip out at the way he worded his offer. His face visibly paled and began to stumble over his words, “‘m sorry! I didn’t mean for it to come out like that! I didn’t mean take a look under your… erm. I ain’t too good with my words sometimes. Forgive me.”

You laughed outright now, stepping forward and trying to pull his nervously fidgeting arms down, “It’s okay! You’re fine! You’re fine! I would love it if you looked under my hood.” You teased, overexaggerating the way you emphasized his words, throwing them back at him.

He rolled his eyes at you, an embarrassed smile pulling the corner of his lips upwards, before looking back down at you. It was then that you realized just how close you and Arvin were, your fingers still loosely touching his forearms where they had fallen. You looked up into his eyes - those soulful brown eyes - and found yourself wanting to know everything that they’d seen.

That familiar heat rose to your cheeks and you pulled your hands back, running them up and down the white apron you wore over teal uniform, “Well, um, I’m gonna go get changed outta this if I ain’t gotta wear it for work and then I can help you out with the car?”

Arvin’s hands found their way to his pockets and he nodded in understanding.

You had changed into a pair of jeans with a buttoned up blouse before jogging out front to find Arvin already bent over the exposed inner workings of your car. “How’s it lookin’?” You asked, slowing to a pace until you reached the car. You landed beside him, hands falling on the dirty metal as you leaned over to see the mechanics. He fiddled with a few things here and there, things that you didn’t quite understand. You were good with the basics of fixing your car. You could change the oil and fix a flat but when it came to the more complicated stuff, you were a little less well-versed.

He leaned back and wiped his greasy hands on each other, “I think I have the problem pinpointed. ‘M gonna need to head into town and get a part but it’s not a hard fix at all.”

“Thank you so much for doin’ this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You took a few steps back as Arvin lowered the hood, letting it fall the last few inches with a heavy thud.

“Yeah, well I’m happy I can finally be some help ‘round here to you.”

You rolled your eyes, following Arvin back to the house, “Please, you are plenty of help ‘round here. More help than I’ve gotten in years.”

Arvin gave you a knowing tight-lipped smile and nodded once the two of you made it through the front door. He didn’t say anything for a moment but there was a silent understanding. “You need anything while I’m out?” He asked, changing the subject.

You shook your head, “No, I’m alright. Thank you though.”

It was rare that you actually had time to yourself. While Arvin was gone, you found yourself wandering around confused for a short while until the buzzing silence wore on your ears. You sat on the couch and pulled the radio over closer to you on the coffee table, looking over your shoulder as if someone would catch you at any moment.

This was one of your secrets that you held close to you, knowing your father would make fun of you if he ever found out. Moon River had been a favorite radio program of yours since you discovered it while tuning through the stations a year back. It was full of romantic poetry and slow beautiful music. Everything you dreamt about but knew you could never have, not while you were stuck here at least. But a girl could dream.

“Tonight’s love poem is written by Betty Hayes Albright. We hope you enjoy.

They tell me not to write of love

but what else can I write –

when love is in my heart and soul

and mind both day and night?

“You’re just too young and you can’t know

of love,” (does anyone?)

“you can’t profess such knowledge –

stick to verse and pun.”

.

They tell me that, and say love poems

are worn out through and through

but I can’t agree with them,

for me love is brand new.

Feelings in me can’t stay down,

my love for him I can’t ignore,

somehow it’s got to be expressed,

“I’ve got no lock upon my door.”

.

To those who stick to subjects

of the sky and stars, of joy and pain

I write my poems of love because

my heart’s love-blood shall never drain.

Perhaps they too shall love again.”

You sighed as it came to an end and you couldn’t help but see Arvin’s face in your mind’s eye. Love had always felt like something you could only dream of. It was a “one day when I get out of here” thought, not something you saw yourself obtaining for a long time, if ever. Now with Arvin… well you weren’t sure if you could call it love but it sure as hell was the closest thing to it you’d experienced.

Since the words were spoken, they kept swirling around your head: “When love is in my heart and soul; and mind both day and night.” Since his arrival two months ago, Arvin had been that very subject on your mind almost constantly. He was the first face you hoped to see every morning and the last one you wanted to see before bed. Your entire mood lit up every time he walked into the room, even when you were stressed from work or your father. It hadn’t been hard for you to realize that he became the lighthouse in the rocky ocean, promising solace and providing light in the storm that could be your life at times. It was hard to not fall for that.

"Never heard that one before." You whipped around in a panicked start to see Arvin standing in the foyer. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

You shook your head and tucked your hair behind your ears, "No, no, you're fine. You read a lot of poetry?" You watched Arvin shake his head and walk into the room. He stopped on the other side of the couch and you climbed up, placing your knees on the cushions and leaning over the back of the couch to look up at him.

"I don't like poetry all that much, at least the ones we read in high school… but I like that one." He looked down at where his hand gripped the back of the couch and his weight shifted on his feet.

Your eyes fell to his hands in an attempt to hide the blush that crept up on your cheeks that really had no place being there. "Yeah… me too. It reminds me that there is real love out there in the world."

A silence settled over the room as your eyes anxiously dragged up Arvin’s body till they settled on his eyes but you found yourself unable to hold his gaze. "I, erm, I got the part I need for your car." He took a step back and lifted the hand that wasn't on the couch, tossing the metal mechanism in his hand.

"Oh," you pressed yourself away from the couch and moved back to stand, "thank you for runnin’ all the way out into town."

He gave you a small smile and a nod, “It’s my pleasure. I’m gonna go see if this fixes the problem.”

***

"That should be it," Arvin slammed the hood back down and wiped his hands on his jeans. "We should take her for a drive to see if she's runnin' alright now."

You nodded, "Alright. Hop in." You took the keys from your pocket and gestured to the passenger seat. Arvin climbed in and you slid into the driver's seat, turning the key. This time, the engine started up without a problem. A big smile spread across your face, "You're a miracle worker, you know that?"

Arvin shook his head, "I ain't no miracle worker. Just good with fixin' things I s'pose."

Your feet were on the brake and the clutch when you shifted into first gear and began to peel out down the long dirt driveway. You stopped at the road and looked both ways, trying to decide which way to go. You looked to your right, the road into town, and then to the left, the way to that field that was oh so special to you. You began to gnaw at your lower lip.

Did you want to show Arvin? That little clearing by the creek had been your secret getaway since you’d discovered it three years ago. You never told anybody about it and you’d never seen anyone else there when you went so, as far as you were concerned, it was yours. Your special hide away, your paradise, your escape. But since his arrival, Arvin had become just that as well.

“You alright?” He questioned, looking over at you with a vaguely concerned expression.

You looked over at him, a nervous twist to your lips, “Can I show you somewhere special?” Perhaps it was an odd question to ask, though you hadn’t thought it was until you saw the curious and somewhat confused look dawn on Arvin’s face. Nevertheless, he nodded and, with a smile, you turned left towards the field.

It was a short but otherwise successful, trouble-free drive. You slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road into the dirt shoulder. “Where are we?” Arvin asked, looking around and seeing nothing but tall grass and trees.

With an impish smile, you turned off the ignition and looked towards him, “You’ll see. C’mon!” You threw your door open and walked around the front of the car towards the passenger’s side, hanging on the passenger door when Arvin finally opened the door to exit the vehicle.

He followed you to the edge of the brush where you walked as if you knew it like home. With minimal effort, you found the overgrown path and pulled him along behind you. The road disappeared behind the two of you as you wandered beyond the tree line, tall birch trees creating a maze that you knew by heart. The path was short and you navigated it with a sixth sense until you led Arvin to a small field. There was an imperfect circle of wild grasses beside a stream that seemingly appeared from nowhere but you knew it was that time of year when the snow started melting off the mountains. Bundles of wildflowers grew mixed in the grass. Just along the bank of the crystal clear creek water was a large dogwood tree with vibrant white flowers.

“Wow…” Arvin breathed out in amazement as he tried to take in the beauty of the place.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” You asked with a smile, the wonder in his brown eyes warming your heart. You were glad that he seemed to appreciate it as much as you did.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as your heart welled with happiness at his stunned reaction. He stepped in a slow circle, taking in the beautiful scenery. “It’s beautiful.”

“This is sorta my… escape from reality, I guess you could call it. I come here and I’m suddenly in a different world away from all the bullshit of life.” You reached down to run your fingers through the soft blades of grass. Arvin smirked and you looked up at him with a short breathy laugh, “What?”

He shook his head and looked down, hands buried in his pockets as always, “I think that’s the first time I ever heard you curse.”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t do it very often. My daddy would always yell at me tellin’ me how un-ladylike it was to say bad words. Told me it made me sound ugly. I think his exact words were ‘a dirty mouth makes a dirty woman.’” Your voice dropped to mock your father.

Arvin spoke plainly, “Your pa needs to treat you better.”

You gave him a sad knowing smile and looked down at the ground, “It wasn’t always like this, y’know? I think that’s the saddest part.”

“What you mean?” Arvin asked.

You sat down on the grass, feeling the soft blades press against your skin as you sat back on your hands. Arvin followed suit, finding a comfortable spot beside you and waiting for you to continue. “When my momma was alive, he hardly ever drank. Wasn’t nothing like he is now. I think that’s the only reason I’ve put up with as much as I have. I hate seeing this miserable shell of the man I once knew but I also know that a real father wouldn’t have let himself fall into this pit - or at least stay down there long enough to practically leave his daughter to fend for herself. I just always hoped that maybe one day he’d pull through and… y’know… be my dad again.”

You laid back on the ground and stared up at the sky. The clouds passed by, white and weightless, pure and unaffected by the troubles of this world. You envied them. The way they floated along, either bringing shade and beauty to the sky or raging unapologetic storms, with no constraints as to where they could float and how they could behave… it made you wish you could be a cloud.

Arvin was silent, unsure of how to respond. He wanted to offer words of support and encouragement but he never had been too good with words. He hadn’t really been taught to talk about problems. His daddy had taught him to finish them with his fists. Finally, he sighed, looking out across the field, “I understand. I felt the same way ‘bout my daddy.”

You perched up on your elbows, “Really?”

He nodded and looked down at his leg, which he was slowly rolling side to side just to keep fidgeting in some way, “Yeah… he, uh, he changed into a totally different man after my mama died.”

You looked up at him but you could see he was trying to avoid your eyes. You rested a gentle hand on his knee, “‘M sorry, Arvin. I had no idea.”

He shook his head, “Nah, don’t be. It’s been a long time.”

“D-do you mind if I ask what happened?” You cautiously inquired but quickly added, “Of course, it’s fine if not. You just… you don’t talk much ‘bout yourself.”

Arvin took a deep breath in, “My mama died when I was ‘bout ten. Cancer took her. My daddy tried everythin’ to keep her alive but when it didn’t work… he killed ‘imself too.”

This time you were unsure of how to respond, stunned by the new information you’d just learned. “I-I’m so sorry,” you breathed out in disbelief. For some reason, you had never thought that perhaps Arvin could have had a similar childhood experience to you, like losing your mothers, but your heart went out to him.

“It took a long time for me to understand why he did what he did but I finally realized that he just loved my mama so much that he couldn’t bear to be away from her.”

“He should’ve loved you enough to stay for you.” Before you could stop yourself, the stunning but honest words slipped from your lips. You damn near stopped breathing when you realized what you said, “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright.” Arvin had been stunned by the words that came out of your mouth but he knew damn well they were only a vocalization of a thought he had had almost every day since the day his father put a bullet in his head. “I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t thought the same thing before.”

A heavy silence weighed over the two of you that was only relieved by a cool breeze. “So what happened to your mama?” Arvin asked.

Your face twisted, “Labor complications. She was pregnant with my little sister. When she went into labor, things just went really wrong. She lost too much blood ‘n died. The baby died too. I think it was just too much loss at once for my daddy to handle.”

“That’s too much loss to make a child deal with on her own,” Arvin commented the same way you had earlier.

You shrugged, wavering your head from side to side. Like he’d said, you would be lying if you said you hadn’t had the same thought. “Looks like we got a lot in common.” You chuckled sadly, “I feel like I lost everyone who ever loved me. My mom, my sister, my grandparents, my dad...” Another silence settled and you waved the thought away, pushing yourself to sit up, “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to make this all sad.”

Arvin shook his head, “You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for.” He paused, hesitant to continue. He hadn’t talked to anybody about what happened back in Coal Creek and Knockemstiff but something was strongly compelling him to. Maybe it was a bad idea to continue but he did, “I had a sister once too.”

Your mouth fell slightly in surprise and you let out a heavy breath, “You did?” The use of the words had and did instead are have and do were not lost on you and you couldn’t help but wonder what had happened.

Arvin swallowed hard and nodded, “Yeah… she, uh, she got into some trouble with this no good preacher that came into town. She was just so lonely, reminds me a lot o' you, but when he saw that and he took advantage of her. Took everythin’ he wanted and when she got into trouble he just told her she was crazy.” He paused for a moment, the memories of his sister flowing through his head, “Found her hangin’ in the shed.”

You were dumbfounded by the story you’d just been told. Anger and sadness were clear in Arvin’s voice despite his attempt to hold on, though you had a feeling that just the way he had been telling you about it meant that he had shared more of himself than he ever intended to . You struggled to wrap your brain around the tragedy he had just shared. “What’s her name?” You finally asked after a few moments of silence.

Arvin looked out across the field again and then back at you, “Lenora.”

“Lenora,” you repeated, “That’s a pretty name.” Arvin only nodded wordlessly. Again, another pause before you continued, “You said it was some preacher that got her in trouble? What happened with that? I mean, you knew? Didn’t anyone else? Is he in jail or somethin’?”

The man tensed up next to you and shot a look towards you that was sharper than one he’d ever given you before. You shrank back ever so slightly, taken off guard by his response to your seemingly simple question. “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to-”

“Ain’t nobody woulda believed my Lenora if she told ‘em. You know how people see women who got babies ‘n no husband. Especially since he was the preacher…” he trailed off and you were desperate to see the memories that played behind his big brown eyes, “He ain’t gonna hurt nobody no more.”

Your brows knitted together, trying to decipher what that meant. Did he go to jail? Was he fired? Was his reputation ruined? You prayed whatever justice he got was fit for something so atrocious.

"I'm sorry you lost your sister."

"I'm sorry you lost yours too."

After a long silence, Arvin laid back beside you, his body grazing your arm as he lowered himself. The two of you rested beside each other in this new understanding of each other. As you struggled to keep your attention on the sky, your eyes frequently straying from the vast blue expanse overhead to the beautiful man to your right, you couldn't help but wonder if by some insane fantasy maybe he'd be struggling to keep his eyes off of you in the same way.

"Let's talk about somethin' less depressing," you prompted, "How 'bout girlfriends? You ever had one of those?"

Arvin’s chest rose and fell heavily as he sighed, "I ain't never had much time for a girlfriend. Didn't much like anybody in my hometown anyways. Don't think nobody liked me much neither."

You rolled your eyes and audibly scoffed, "I find it hard to believe you didn't have girls bangin' down your door for a date. You're tellin' me you ain't never went out on a single date?"

He shook his head, "Nope. I mean I kissed a girl or two back when I was younger but I never had no time for datin'. Always workin' or helpin' my grandma or keepin' Lenora safe."

You rolled over onto your side and looked down at him curiously, "Where you from anyways?"

Arvin was hesitant to answer, you could see it plain as day, though you couldn't figure why. Finally, he answered, "Lived with my mama and daddy in Knockemstiff but moved to Coal Creek with my grandma after they died."

Mentally, you wracked your mental map for any memory of those towns but found none. "I don't think I ever heard of those," you commented, lying back down.

Arvin stretched his arm up and readjusted his cap, "Not many people have unless you're from near there. Just some small towns you'd drive right through and never even notice. Knockemstiff is near Meade, Ohio."

"Oh!" You exclaimed in realization, "I heard of that one!" You giggled. You didn't live anywhere near there but you'd heard the name at least from a friend whose family was from Meade.

"What about you?" He asked.

You began tracing light patterns on your stomach with your finger, "What about me? You know where I'm from."

"You ever had a boyfriend?"

You kept your eyes staring straight up. “I tried datin’ a few boys back in high school but nothing too serious. They didn’t seem to like me much,” you admitted with a shrug. At the time, it had bothered you a little that you seemed to have a hard time finding a boyfriend but now you saw that it was better this way. Younger you had spent night after night praying for a knight in shining armor that would come and whisk you away to some beautiful new life. All they had done was run for the hills because they didn’t want to deal with your daddy… not that you could blame them. You’d learned not to depend on anybody for anything, certainly not some boy to make your life better. You’d have to do that yourself.

“I think it would be impossible for somebody not to like you.” Arvin said quietly but with no ounce of dishonesty.

You rolled your eyes and rolled over to look at him, “Your just sayin’ that.” Despite the fact you swore to yourself he was only joking, blood rushed to your cheeks.

Arvin’s head turned in the crook of his arm to make eye contact with you, “I like you.”

The sweetly joking smile you had on your face fell in shock. “W-what?” You stuttered less than gracefully.

“I mean it. I like you… a lot.” After your pause, his heart fell but he didn’t need you knowing that, “You ain’t gotta say it back.”

“I like you too,” you admitted quickly before Arvin could continue to doubt himself anymore but when you looked over at him, you could see that momentary flash of doubt in his eyes. You could almost hear his thoughts behind those big brown orbs: Nah, you’re just sayin’ that. So you decided to beat him to it, “I really do.”

A warm breeze couldn’t dispel the thickness that had been created in the air between you two as you both looked at each other, trying to decipher what the other was thinking and what on Earth you were supposed to do next. Neither of you were well experienced when it came to love or romance or whatnot but experience wasn’t needed to feel some higher power, call it God or the universe, pulling the two of you together.

You weren’t quite sure when you and Arvin had started to inch your lips closer to each others’ but when they finally met in a gentle experimental kiss, it was as if fireworks had gone off. Your heart swelled with an emotion that could only be described as longing. Breathing stopped as if the feather-light touch of his lips on yours had knocked the air out of your lungs and you found yourself unable to catch it.

Both you and Arvin were hesitant to pull back and neither of you did until there was no air left in your lungs. It was one of those kisses that left you less. Breathless, speechless, thoughtless. Just less. And yet somehow more. A part of you that you had denied being empty for so long felt like it was now filled by Arvin and, perhaps that was too much credit to give for simply saying he liked you and sharing a mindblowing kiss with you, but damn.

“I-I-I uh…” You tried to stammer out something that would be fitting but there were no words.

“You ain’t gotta say nothin’.” Arvin reached over and gently brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into your face, “But I’ll be damned if I let you go without tellin’ you you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

You reached up and covered his large hand with your own, twisting your wrist so that your fingers would interlock with his, “Who ever said you gotta let me go?

__________________

Taglist:

@peterswebshooters

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@peterswebshooters

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@kittyformannn

#arvin russel imagine #arvin russel imagines #arvin russell #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel fluff #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x fem #tom holland x you #tdatt fanfiction #tdatt fic #tdatt x reader #tdatt #tdatt imagine #the devil all the time

[someonestolemyshoes]

Off the Record

Hello!! I am super excited to finally post my entry for @levihan-drabbles competition :D The prompt was super interesting and I had a tonne of fun writing this one! 

The prompt I received was: Hange posts a picture of Levi somewhere and it becomes a meme.

(For those curious, this is the meme I used for inspiration) 

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

Hange met Moblit in a small cafe a little way down the road from the newsroom. She was in good spirits—her morning had been productive; she'd made steady headway with research for her next interview, finished the final edits for a few smaller tabloid pieces she'd been meaning to brush up, attended three short, perfunctory meetings on tedious company policy, and laid the groundwork for another exciting interview opportunity.  

She felt good. And now she had the pleasurable prospect of a hearty lunch, a passable cup of coffee, and perhaps best of all, Moblit's company. His company, and his camera.

Hange threw herself into the seat opposite Moblit the moment she spotted him, hunched over his laptop in a corner of the cafe. He lifted his coffee cup just in time for Hange to clatter against the table, the thin metal frame rattling precariously. She offered him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," she said, and then, "got anything exciting?"

"I don't know about exciting. Interesting, maybe, but no breaking news."

Hange flagged down a passing waitress with one hand, and waved Moblit off with the other. "Doesn't matter, doesn't matter," she said, then paused to order a drink and her favourite sandwich. "Tell me anyway."

"I got a tip-off from a waiter at Sina's."

Hange's eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She sat forward in her chair, folding her arms on the table top as she leaned closer. "Who?"

"Take a guess."

Hange grinned at him. Moblit was not one to play coy; he did his job and did it well, and reported his findings efficiently. To leave her to question it meant one of two things; he had photographed someone very high profile indeed, or it was somebody Hange was, for better or for worse, well acquainted with.

Or perhaps, if she were lucky, it was both.

"Let me see him, then."

**

Hange had taken far too much time in the cafe with Moblit. He had given her a rundown of all the details he'd gathered during his field work that morning, and shown her through his extensive photo gallery. It was impressive, the kind of archive Moblit could cultivate with only a 45 minute breakfast window.

Hange had been delighted. Moblit was right; it wasn't breaking news, nothing particularly thrilling, but there was a corner of the Internet, Hange knew, that would delight in a trashy little article just like this. Something quick and simple to bulk up the social media feed for the afternoon.

Plus, there was a series of pictures Moblit had snapped, a cluster he'd thought to be of no real merit, that Hange simply could not pass up.

She could lay down no facts with a story like this one. There was no hard-hitting investigative journalism to be had, but she could at least offer some speculation based on her knowledge of the subjects involved, and spin a tale juicy enough to get people talking.

It took little time at all to put the article together. Hange scribbled up an outline for the contents—the location; Sina's in downtown Hizuru, a luxurious restaurant serving five star meals at every hour of the day. High in quality, sickeningly steep in price. The time of day; 9am. To the best of Hange's knowledge, this was rather out of character for the subject. He was an early riser, but according to their interview last March pending the premiere of his newest movie, he wasn't the type to eat much at all before lunch time.

And then, the company. Eren Yeager was a relatively well-known actor, barely an adult at nineteen. He starred in his first role a decade earlier, and had seen commercial success in multiple movies and TV shows ever since. He had been something of a prodigy in his younger years, bold and precocious, possessing a natural talent many actors years his senior couldn't even hope for. As Hange understood it, he had recently hit a rather troublesome phase. An interesting line of inquiry, but despite his talent and his fame, Eren's presence was simply a cameo, compared to the subject of the article Hange was drawing up.

Levi Ackerman.

Levi is a fan favourite and a media delight. He's attractive no doubt, and his performance in any and every role is almost always met with critical acclaim. Outside of his career, however, he's an elusive thing, silent in any matters pertaining to his private life. He avoids any public event like the plague, and rarely shows his face at premieres or award ceremonies if he can possibly avoid it. He gives interviews only when required by some contractual obligation or other, or else when the journalist in question is so painfully persistent that it is simply easier to give in than to keep fighting.

Little of his personal life is known, but it is impossible for someone in Levi's position to avoid interacting with anybody at all, and even the great Levi Ackerman is not above scrutiny.

There are rumours. Several of them, accounts from fellow cast members, from staff, from directors, and even Erwin, his manager, has alluded more than once to Levi's sour disposition. He is prone, Hange has heard, to fits of anger, and is easily disgruntled by minor inconveniences. His dislike of anything unclean or untidy is the stuff of legends—Hange has seen this first hand, at their very first interview. He had entered the room, scowled at the chair before sitting in it, and given Hange a thorough once over before announcing, with no hint of humour, "your glasses are filthy."

Hange had found him both fascinating and quite delightful, in his own strange way. When he acts, Levi sounds eloquent; he is a master of emotive performance, wringing the last drops of anger, despair, or grief out of each and every word, or else injecting the perfect giddy jitter, or a tremor of humour when the scene called for it. As soon as the cameras stop rolling, though, Levi's tone becomes flat, and without a script, his words are clumsy and crass. He communicates poorly, quick to throw insults and crude remarks. Hange has interviewed him a number of times—she counts herself very lucky that Levi will consent to her requests without too much fuss, these days—and each time she finds herself spending half of their time together translating his answers into something a) family friendly, and b) understandable to the everyday reader.

There is nothing for Hange to translate this time. Moblit managed to speak to the waiter after Levi and Eren had vacated in hopes of gleaning any small tidbit of knowledge regarding their conversation, but the venture had been hopeless. The pair had grown silent upon the approach of any staff member, and spoke in tones too hushed for anyone nearby to hear. They learned nothing they couldn't extrapolate for themselves from Moblit's pictures; Eren looked sheepish, avoiding Levi's gaze in favour of staring into his drink, while Levi—

Levi looked furious.

Every picture featured his signature frown, which, in and of itself wasn't enough to assume Levi to be in any mood besides neutral, but some of the photos show a hint of bared teeth or pursed lips, with his brows pulled lower than normal, the space between them deeply creased. Hange found herself curious as both a journalist and as an acquaintance. They may not be friends, but Hange liked to think she knew Levi a little better than most people, at least. She could find nothing in their past interactions to suggest any relationship with Eren beyond the strictly professional. They had over a decade between them, and though they had worked together on more than one set, neither party had ever said anything to insinuate so much as a friendly attitude between them.

There was no resolution to her queries to be easily found. And luckily for Hange, this particular piece didn't require any. It was a gossip article, something spicy, jam-packed with buzzwords, what-if's and more questions than answers, designed to make people wonder. Levi's name in the title would be enough to draw people in; Eren's name was an added bonus. But the star of the show was Moblit's photography. Hange arranged the images she had chosen in a grid. In context, the pictures were intriguing, depicting a particularly ferocious part of Levi and Eren's exchange. Out of context, they looked a little ridiculous. Both would bring readers onto their home page.

Satisfied with her work, Hange queued the finished article for review, and turned her attention back to her schedule.

**

The article launched mid-afternoon. Hange watched, somewhat satisfied, as it was received much as she had expected it to be. The activity on their Twitter account skyrocketed, the tweet in question garnering more likes, retweets and replies in the hour after it's post than any other they’d dropped in the last month.

Hange had allowed it to slip from her mind after the first hour or so. She received praise from her bosses, and a text from Moblit, jokingly demanding she pay him even more handsomely for his work than she already had, and her cousin had called her in the evening on a quest for insider gossip she could share with her friends, but that had been the end of it. Hange thought of it no more until early the following morning, when she had stopped by the quiet little cafe beneath her flat for breakfast and her favourite coffee.

She had been polishing off her pancakes when the bell above the door chimed. She had paid little attention to the newcomer, until a shadow passed over her table, and a familiar voice said, "Oi, shitty glasses."

Hange looked up to see Levi Ackerman himself standing over her, his face twisted in a scowl.

There are perks of being reasonably acquainted with Levi. Hange always gets to conduct his interviews, and Levi only ever turns her down if her request is unreasonable. Like that time she demanded he meet her at this very coffee shop for "just a quick piece, about the cameo you did for the new season of Titans", only to show him she'd bought a new pair of glasses—"look, all clean!"—and, when pressed, admitted there was no interview at all. He had been far more hesitant to indulge her in smaller affairs after that, but Hange was still lucky enough to be his only regular interviewer after big releases.

More interviews means more commission for Hange, and more high profile work with other celebrities. Yes, being acquainted with Levi has its bonuses.

But it also has its downsides. Namely, that Levi will not hesitate to turn up at her regular coffee shop to berate her after she has posted some complete and utter wank at his expense.

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"

Hange sat back in her chair and sipped at her coffee. Levi's face was full colour now, a pale pink flush from his neck right up to his hairline. Hange gave him a measured look, then kicked out the chair opposite her.

"Sit," she said. "If you have issues, I'd be happy to discuss."

Levi looked for a moment like he'd like nothing more than to strangle her. Then he pulled out the chair the rest of the way, and dropped himself into it.

"I don't give a fuck about the article," he said. "It's shitty gossip anyway."

Hange raised a brow at him. She opened her mouth to continue when, without prompt, a young waitress approached their table, practically bouncing on the spot as she stopped and gave Levi a dazzling smile. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, and Hange would have thought she were simply starstruck, if it weren't for the light of mirth in her eyes.

"Good morning, sir. Can I get you anything?" She gave Levi no chance to respond, before plowing on. "Water? Or tea, perhaps? Forgive me, but you seem a little upset. Might a nice tea calm you down?"

Levi grit his teeth. "No, thank you."

Hange almost apologised to the poor waitress on his behalf, but she didn't look bothered at all by his rudeness. In fact, she had barely turned from the table before she snorted in laughter, and caught her giggles in her hands as she scurried back behind the counter. A second passed, before all three waitresses snickered.

"That," Levi hissed, "is your fault."

Now Hange truly was confused. She furrowed her brow at him. "How does that have anything to do with me?"

"You and your stupid article," he said. Hange looked back to the waitress, who looked to their table again before falling into a fresh fit of giggles. Hange turned back to Levi, a little sympathetic.

"I think she just fancies you."

"You're trying to tell me you really don't know the mess you've caused?"

Hange shook her head slowly. Levi watched her closely, searching for proof of the lie, but Hange's earnestness must have shown through, for Levi's anger abated a little, and he slumped back on his chair.  

In lieu of a verbal explanation, Levi pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, typed something out, and scrolled a little way, before placing the phone on the table and sliding it towards her. Hange pulled it closer with a frown.

The screen displayed Twitter, and showed the feed beneath the search for Levi's name. Hange scrolled a few posts, eyes widening little by little as she went.

Levi was right. The contents of the article were of little significance at all. The photo grid, however, had gone viral overnight.

It showed four pictures of Levi and Eren, taken in succession. Each one showed only a portion of the back of Eren's head, but Levi's expression in every frame was more animated than Hange had ever seen him outside of his movie scenes, and each was more distraught than the last. Face tight, jaw clenched, teeth bared, with his finger pointed condescendingly in Eren's face. The second last picture shows his brows arched and his lips pressed into a thin line, and the final one—

Hange had laughed at it in isolation when Moblit had shown her. She had fully expected it to garner a few laughs, but she hadn't expected a photograph of Levi furiously slurping his tea to become a meme in less than 24 hours.  

"I see," Hange said, as she calmly slid the phone back to him. "In my defense, you don't help yourself. It wouldn't be half as funny if you didn't hold your tea cup so weird."

"In my defense," Levi snapped, "If you didn't post it online nobody would have anything to laugh at."

Hange crossed her arms on the table and leaned towards him, smiling pleasantly. "In your defense, you wouldn't have been so angry in public if it weren't for whatever Eren had to say. What was that about, by the way? I'm terribly curious."

Hange expected a very Levi response to her prying; a scowl, perhaps a quick kick under the table, an 'It's none of your damn business, four-eyes', if she were lucky.

What she got instead was a haughty sniff, and a gruff, "He's fucking my cousin."

For a moment, they were silent. Either Levi's anger at his new meme status had temporarily disabled the part of his brain that blocked any mention of his private life from slipping past his lips in the wrong company, or something about Eren's indiscretion had rattled him so much, he couldn't keep silent about it. Either way, he looked increasingly surprised—and horrified—at himself for saying it out loud. Hange's eyes were wide, and Levi's were growing wider by the second. Of all the people to slip up to, he had slipped up to her. An entertainment journalist, the one person in his life who thrived on this kind of insider knowledge.

Hange swallowed. Levi was still staring at her like a deer in headlights, no doubt painfully aware that there was no taking back what he had said now.

Hange doesn't take a great deal of pride in what she does. She feels satisfied when her stories receive the reception she'd predicted, validated in her ability to analyse their consumer base and make accurate assumptions about what will hit and what won't, but the work itself feels dirty, at times. An opportunistic scavenger feeding on whatever carrion they can find, no matter how rotten it may be.

This is a perfect opportunity. Salacious details of Levi's interpersonal relationships, right from the horse's mouth. If it were anyone else, Hange would be scribbling every word verbatim in her notebook.

But this is Levi. Levi, who seems jarred by her last article (though Hange will maintain this, at least, is no real fault of her journalism, and also, absolutely hilarious) and was clearly, for whatever reason, incensed by Eren's actions.

Hange brushed her palms over her thighs, and picked a speck of lint from her trousers.

"This is nice, isn't it?" She said, "having breakfast together. We should do it more often. It feels good to just talk, sometimes. Off the record."  

Levi blinked rapidly at her. He opened his mouth, but, still too shocked by his own loose tongue to speak, he said nothing. Hange pulled her phone from her bag and fiddled around with it some, tapping here and there, until she found what she was looking for. She turned it to Levi, and said, "I think this is my favourite edit so far."

Levi finally pulled his gaze from her, and looked down at the screen. It was truly something, the way the picture snapped him out of his stunned silence. Hange had never seen someone's face pinch up so rapidly.

"Come on, it's kinda funny. And look! That's Tony Stark, right? People are so creative. And maybe, if we're really lucky, Buzzfeed will do a compilation article of all the best ways people have used your new meme."  

Levi rolled his eyes at her. It looked strange, with his face so tightly twisted. Hange chuckled at him.

She nudged his ankle beneath the table with the toe of her shoe. "Lighten up, you look constipated."

"Oi, out of the two of us I'm not the one who's full of—"

"—Full of shit, I know, I know. That honour is all mine."

They lapsed into another silence, this one marginally more comfortable than the last. Hange finished the last of her coffee and checked her emails, while Levi tortured himself some more by scrolling through his Twitter feed. After a short while, he spoke again.

"That...doesn't sound bad," he said.

"Hm?"

"What you said about talking more. Off the record. It doesn't sound bad."

It was Hange's turn to flush. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she occupied herself by rifling through her bag in search of nothing.

"Yeah?" Her voice, an octave higher than usual, cracked around the vowels. She cleared her throat, "will you have more gossip for me? It's almost painful that I can't share it, you know."

"Good. I'll share as many secrets as I've got, if it'll bother you that much."

"Sounds terrible," Hange said. She tore a clean corner off her napkin and scribbled her personal number onto it. She slid it over the table to him. "Text me."

Levi pulled a face at the piece of napkin. "Is that used? Gross, shitty four-eyes." He pocketed it anyway.

Hange didn't know what else to say. Levi didn't seem to either, and so he stood, and tucked his chair back in. Hange turned her eyes down to her empty plate. Her stomach and chest felt strange, almost sickly, but in an oddly pleasant way.

Levi rapped his knuckles on the table. Hange jumped, startled, and looked up at the sound.

"This part is on the record," he said. The corner of Levi's mouth quirked into a small, barely there grin. "I heard from a reliable source that Eren was so scared on the set of Last War that he pissed his pants. Twice."

#Levihan #snk #my writing #THIS ONE WAS SO FUN I would like to revisit this one day #I enjoyed their dynamic hehe

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 6.1

Twenty-four hours, thirty minutes, ten seconds and counting.  Xiao continued to pace outside of Dawn Winery in complete silence.  He still hadn't heard a single word from you, and he had stayed awake all night.  Not really a sacrifice since he pulled all-nighters frequently, but his hopes were crushed when his long night was filled with nothing but silence.

Inside, Aether approached Diluc rather quickly with Paimon in tow.  "How would you like to kill Fatui?"

"I beg your pardon?"  Diluc set his glass of grape juice on his desk.  He had been busy with mapping the next wine delivery route when they suddenly barged through his doors.  He kind of wished they had the kindness to knock, but the desperate glints in their eyes caught him off guard.

"We said, how would you like to kill the Fatui?" Paimon crossed her arms.

"We need to infiltrate Snezhnaya.  They took her."

"'Her?'"  Diluc raised a brow, already annoyed by the vagueness of their requests.

"Ugh, the same girl from yesterday! Who earned her cryo vision!  She was taken last night at your tavern! Didn't you see us all run out?"  Paimon's brows furrowed impatiently.

"We need to infiltrate Snezhnaya," Aether repeated and took a step forward.  "We can't do it without you on our team."

"Hold on," Diluc waved a hand to silence them.  "We can't just infiltrate a foreign country.  There are laws and regulations you have to--"

"That's why we came to you!" Paimon yelled.  "If anyone can get us in there, it's you and your underground connections!"

"You hate the Fatui more than anything," Aether continued.  "Will you help us?"

Diluc thought for a moment while he traced the rim of his glass with his index finger.  "We can't recklessly barge into enemy territory.  I'll see what intel I can gather.  Wait here."

Xiao burst through the doors almost as if he had seen a ghost--actually, that would be an inaccurate metaphor since he's quite experienced with the spirits of the dead.  No matter.  He burst through the doors as pale as a sheet.  "I hear her."

..................................................

You glared at the third plate of food that sat upon the stool Childe left in your cell.  You had refused to eat the prior two meals while he was in the cell with you.  He had your cuffs unlocked so you could eat, but you refused to move from your place against the wall.  Cooked fish, some sort of vegetable, and white rice.  They were treating you well.  You were needed alive and healthy, after all, but you weren't hungry.  And since Childe had finally left you alone, well, that gave you the chance to talk to the only person you could.

Xiao.  Xiao! The thought of startling him brought a thin smile to your lips.  I wonder if I scared you...I'm safe--well, as safe as I can be at the moment.  I miss you... Your smile faded.  But I  cannot call for you.  It's too dangerous; I'm sure they already have a way to capture you.  Now that I know you're always listening, it's nice to talk like this.  Less lonely.  

Something clinked against the outer cell door, and it opened.  Childe and one of the harbingers you saw yesterday entered.  The latter held a strange white-and-gray mask that obscured everything besides part of his right cheek and lips.  His bluish-white hair almost seemed to brighten the small room from how light it was.

"It's a sign of disrespect if you refuse to eat the food provided for you," Childe commented once he saw that your plate was yet again untouched.  "We're treating you with more hospitality than our prisoners, after all."

"This is still imprisonment.  Screw off," you brought your knees to your chest as if your legs served to protect you from their stares.

"Ah, yes," the other harbinger picked the plate up and placed it at your feet.  "My test subject needs to eat.  I suggest you do it by your own will before I see to it myself."  

"You might want to listen to him."  Childe was warning you, but not out of consideration for you.

"Go to hell!" You threw the plate at the new harbinger since he was closest, and covered his tidy suit in food.  The white rice mostly clung to the fabric.  Thank the archons that your shoulder was healed and your arm could be put to good use now.

"Listen here, you little--"  The man grabbed you by the collar and lifted you like you weighed nothing until your feet dangled above the ground.  "I don't have the patience of the Tsaritsa's war dog.  I do things quite differently, and you are under my jurisdiction now.  See to it that you follow my orders to the tee, or I can make things very unpleasant here on out."  He dropped you to the floor and exited the cell.

Childe gave you a look of 'I told you so' as he followed suite.

...............................................

What day is it? Your hazy mind stared at the opposite wall.  You lazily traced figure-eights over your tattered jeans.  Approximately twenty-one meals were served--and wasted-- so maybe it was day seven?  A full week of sitting in this barren room?

A few days of no nutrition were of no consequence to you; you were a light eater anyway.  But by day five you were beginning to get dizzy from your voluntary starvation.  You slept most of the day.  The slightest of movements made the world spin around you.  Thoughts of giving in and digging into the meals crossed your mind several times.

I will not falter.  They will not get what they need from me.  I'll starve before they can have me, you gave yourself the pep talk over and over again.  The hours that were filled with zero social interaction drove you mad; you'd either talk to yourself, or to Xiao, who you only hoped could still hear you and maybe even reply in his own mind.  It was a shame the conversation couldn't go both ways.

"I miss you," you murmured a breath.  "If I get out of this, would you like to go eat almond tofu with me?"

Childe entered quietly, and knelt in front of you after giving your full plate the side-eye.  "This little hunger strike of yours needs to stop.  You need to eat."  You didn't answer, and he let out a small sigh.  "Il Dottore finished his set-up this morning.  I'm sure he'll be ready to take you from under my watch by tomorrow at the latest."  He sat down now, and examined you carefully.  

I didn't think we'd break her this quickly,  he thought.  Such a stubborn personality reduced to this pathetic heap of a woman.  A slim smile spread across his lips when he realized how much he loved watching you break under the pressure.

"Leave," you breathed.

"You're smarter than I thought, you know."  Childe placed his chin on the hand that was propped up on his leg.  "If you really thought he had a chance at defeating us, you would have called for Xiao by now.  You've isolated yourself from the only person that caught your eye."

That's what you think, you scoffed.  I've been talking to him this whole damn time.

"Or have you been praying to him?"  Childe's eyes narrowed and the grin on his lips only widened.  The small glance you sent him validated his question.  "You're telling me that this great and mighty adeptus has heard your suffering, and has yet to do a single thing about it?  Are you really sure he's reliable? Oh, ojou-chan," he clicked his tongue and shook his head at you.  "He won't neglect his duties to protect Liyue to come save you."

"You don't know him like I do," a bit of fighting spirit entered your hoarse voice, and your eyes began to glow.

"Oh, but I do.  An ancient yaksha that's at least half the age of Morax himself, falling in love with a human girl?  Is that what you're expecting from him?"  The words cut deeper than his blade had cut through your shoulder.  "You really believe such a hardened soul could learn to love in as quickly as a single human lifetime?  Ojou-chan, open your eyes.  He does not care for you, and he couldn't even if he tried.  Look around you, ojou-chan.  You're still here, in this dark cell, and he's where?  In Mondstat? Liyue?  He doesn't seem to care all too much about you."

"That's because I told him to stay away," you growled, eyes shining brighter.  You curled your fists and prepared to strike him if he had the audacity to continue spewing nonsense.  "You know, you have your entire life to be a jerk.  Why don't you take today off?"

"Even if he did save you, there's no future with him.  You will continue to chase after the illusion of love with him for the rest of your life, only to die alone with your youth wasted.  Even if you escaped, you would be on the run for your entire life, hiding away from the preying eyes of the Fatui.  Is that worth an escape, if you can no longer truly live?

"You're better off working with us, following Dottore's orders, and gaining the trust of the Tsaritsa.  You can make a life for yourself here if you decide to survive.  But out there," he pointed toward the cell door.  "Out there, you will not live."

"You know, your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth!"  You yelled as he exited the cell.  Your plate collided with the door right as it closed.  Hot tears stained your cheeks once you were left alone.

He's only trying to break you into submission, you soothed yourself as you hugged your legs.  They felt thinner than usual.  He's just trying to break me.  But why do his words...make me feel so upset?  You buried your face into your knees.  Maybe he's right.

......................................................

"So the guard schedules all overlap? There's no way in?"  Paimon looked over the scattered notes on Diluc's table.  Most of them held ineligible scribbles on them, and she furrowed her brows because of it.

"This was all you were able to gather in a week?"  Aether pulled at his hair and sighed heavily.

"Not many are willing to oppose the Fatui," said Diluc.  "It took all my resources to get this much.  We don't know the interior layout of the castle other than the main exits and entrances.  But I did manage to find us a caravan that leaves at dawn tomorrow."

"Finally!"  Paimon huffed.  "Something useful!"

"I am sorry I haven't been of use to you all," Zhongli bowed his head in a sincere apology.  "It has been years since I've last seen Snezhnaya and the cryo archon."  You meant a great deal to the group, and Zhongli probably took your abduction the hardest since he could not intervene with the Tsaritsa and her plans.

"At least we finally have enough of a foundation to squeeze out a plan!"

"Have you heard from her at all today, Xia--?"  Aether interrupted himself.  "Are...you okay?"

All eyes turned to antisocial yaksha that stood at the back of the room.  It was a small thing the traveler had noticed, but it was significant enough that it totally contradicted everything Xiao was.

He was crying.

First,  you asked to eat with him when this was all over.  Then an overwhelming sense of dread and helplessness flooded his mind like a tsunami.  A single tear rolled down his cheek and he hastily wiped it away.  A tear?

"Stay out of my way," he disappeared from the room and manifested outside.  What was this unfamiliar clenching in his chest?  This clenching in his throat?  The way his hands tingled and his eyes stung?  The afternoon sun seemed to worsen it.

"Xiao," a deep voice spoke behind him, and he turned to face it.  Zhongli placed a large hand on the yaksha's head and closed his eyes for a moment.  When he released his grip, he too, felt the same pain in his chest.  

"She's in pain," the yaksha murmured.  "Every day she grows weaker.  Her strength, it...diminishes."  While it was a blessing to know you were alive, it was also a curse.  He could hear the uncertainty in your voice when you prayed, and the way you hesitate to speak to him each passing day.  The centuries of hardened walls blocking the yaksha from emotion grew weaker the more you did.

"Your bond has grown," the archon explained the physical and mental phenomena Xiao was being put through.  "You feel her emotions, just as she feels yours."

"Rid me of them," Xiao ordered.  "I have no need for the emotions of a human."

"She is no longer the only one that holds human emotions.  You care for her deeply, do you not?"  No answer. Blank stare. "I'm certain you've contemplated and understood my words in Qingce Village by now."  Zhongli's eyes followed the ascending path of two cranes flying overhead.  "You wish to rescue her, even though Liyue requires your protection?  You're worried I won't grant your request?"

"...Yes."

"Worry no longer; it is granted.  But be warned, Guardian Yaksha, emotions cannot be permanently ignored.  They will rise to the forefront sooner or later,"  his gaze returned to Xiao's.  "You best be sure to share them before they fall on the ears of an early grave."

#xiao x reader #genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin imagines #xiao #xiao fanfiction

[starlocked01]

Toddlers Scare the Living Shit Out of Me

AO3 Link

Dukexiety Week Day 4- Parents

WC: 3k

Summary: Virgil is very surprised when he's brought home by a fascinating stranger at the bar. A kid wasn't exactly what he agreed to in a one-night stand. Nor did he expect a relationship.

Content Warnings: Alcohol Use, Talk of divorce, Swearing, Mild gory language

@dukexietyweek

(also thank you @suchaswearemads for their OC Teddy 🧡)

Virgil was mildly aware that he might regret this if he lived until morning. His roommate would probably have a statistic at the ready about criminals luring victims away from clubs with whispered promises of sex or drugs, and how often they target gay men. Virgil snorted a laugh to himself. Poor Lo would kill him himself if he knew what Virgil was up to. This guy even looked the part of an unhinged surprise organ donation scheduler, all covered in spikes and tattoos of anatomical cross-sections all over his visible skin. If Virgil were any drunker, he'd probably mistake him for a skeleton or half dissected cadaver.

He really didn't care. He was drunk and Remus said pretty words that made him feel wanted. He'd follow the cadaver man halfway around the world like this. Exactly proving Logan right that he shouldn't go out drinking alone. He giggled and stumbled and giggled because he stumbled and the ground was spinning under his feet.

"What’s so funny, Dr. Gloom 'n' Giggles?" Remus caught Virgil and pulled him back upright, even as his brain fought to stay closer to the ground and made the whole damn world lurch in protest.

"Hey! 'M fine. Yourrr gonna kill me, bad man mad man. Fuuuuuuuck I had way too- didya spike 'e?" Virgil struggled to form a single, coherent sentence, feeling the alcohol's effects acutely and in increasing measure with each step towards doom and destruction.

Remus laughed, "ya caught me. Why don't I call you a taxi home?"

"Nooo! I sssaaid I'd come home withya- ssooo I am," Virgil shook his head and tried to stand and remain upright. His attempt lasted all of a second before Remus had to catch him again.

"Look, I don’t need you trying to puke all over my dick or something. I'm calling you a fucking cab," Remus tried to reason but Virgil heard none of it as he yanked himself away to hurl in the bushes.

"'M fine. Commmmming down," Virgil panted, trying desperately to steady himself. After several deep breaths and false starts, he managed to stay upright and reach for a steadying hand. Whatever had knocked him on his ass so quickly was also fading just as fast, "shiitt, did you spike my drink?"

"Nah, man. Come on, we're almost there."

---

Remus stared at this drunk little catch from the bar and was glad he was the one who'd picked him up. Someone must have tried something funny with his drink. Bad enough news for everyone else still at the club but at least this one was safe.

Remus shook his head and checked his phone to call a cab only to find the phone dead already. Shit. No way to warn Roman now. Remus waited for Virgil to finish puking his guts out on the neighbor's lawn, pretty dead set on getting this guy help as soon as they got home and he convinced Ro he needed a favor.

Slowly, he helped Virgil towards his front door, surprised at how fast the intoxication seemed to be turning around as Virgil got steadier on his own feet. Remus winced when he couldn’t find his keys and cursed when Virgil reached out and rang the doorbell.

"Stop! It's way too late for that!" Remus hissed as the door quickly opened to a very pissed-off looking Roman.

"Are you crazy! Pat's asleep- oh… oh who the fuck is this?" Roman asked, stepping outside and shutting the door behind him, "Remus, you promised tonight!"

"Ro, calm down. This is Virgil. Yes, I promised, but do you think you could take-"

"No!" Roman exclaimed furiously, "I have work tomorrow! I can't take Pat. Send Virgil home and be a grown-up for once!" Roman grumbled and turned abruptly back inside.

"Roman! Someone tried to spike him-" Remus hissed, pulling Virgil inside with him "-and before it hit, he was the best guy I've met in my life."

"Oh you mean just like Mr. Wonderful?" Roman snarked back in a low voice as he gathered his belongings. Remus winced at the reminder.

"Don't be a dick, brother dearest. That's my job. Please, I promise this time will be the last-"

"I can't! Teddy is already worried that I'm out this late. We love Patton but we're not raising him for you. You're not a kid anymore, Rem. Learn to date like an adult because we're not babysitting while you go out clubbing like this again," Roman huffed and stormed toward the door, "sorry to meet you like this, Virgil. I hope you feel better soon."

Virgil barely lifted his hand to wave as Roman left and shut the door with a dreadful finality. Remus slumped and sat at the foot of the couch Virgil had sprawled on.

"Sorry about him. How ya doing, Virgie?" Remus asked quietly.

Virgil groaned, "head hurts. Still tipsy. What the fuck did you do to my drink?"

"I didn't do anything but save you from whoever did," Remus shook his head and stood, "I'll get you some water. Or gatorade. Or milk. Fuck what do I even-"

Remus was suddenly cut off by clattering dishes and a small whimpering coming from the kitchen. In a few swift steps, he entered the kitchen and flicked on the lights to find a plate toppled from the counter to the floor, the fridge cracked open, and a toddler trying very hard to hide behind the trash can.

"Pattycake! What are you doing sneaking around in the dark?" Remus slapped on a grin and swooped the child into his arms with a grunt, "oh big boy. Getting too old to pick up like this."

Patton squeaked in his father's arms as he was lifted up, "got loud, Papa. Unkie Ro promised me a second cookie before bed."

"He did now?" Remus asked, eyebrows raised in mock shock.

"Mhmm. Said Unkie Teddy'd bring it. Where's Unkie Teddy?"

"Oh no! Ro was gonna call the cookie monster himself to get ya?" Remus gasped as he shifted his hold on the child and nudged the plate under the sink to take care of in the morning, "Uncle Ro promised you a cookie monster and didn't show up? That fiend!" Remus giggled with Patton as he grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge, shutting the door with his hip.

"Unkie Monsta!" Patton giggled, clinging to Remus’s neck.

"Mhmm. It's really late buddy. You should get back to bed," Remus cooed as he dropped one of the water bottles on Virgil’s chest.

"What the hell-?" Virgil tried to sit up, utterly confused who Remus was talking to now.

"Hey! You don't get to cuss in front of my kid until date five!" Remus snapped, holding Patton close. Virgil blinked at the baby blue eyes, curly blonde hair and the overwhelming amount of freckles as the child stared back at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

"Papa, who's that? He looks spiky," Patton whimpered, quickly hiding his face from Virgil.

"Baby, I'm spiky. I like spiky people," Remus carefully soothed, running a hand through soft curls, "he's one of Papa's new friends."

Virgil watched, unamused, "you didn't say that you have a kid. What, were you planning on bringing me back here with a toddler who could walk in and see anything?"

"Look, I was trying to ask my brother to babysit him overnight. You're hella cute but I didn't expect to make this introduction so quickly," Remus huffed, "Pattybear, be nice and say hi and then you best be headed back to bed, mister."

Patton peeked one eye out to appraise the stranger in his spot on the couch. After a long moment, he waved and barely audibly whispered a small, "hi."

Virgil smiled at the typical child response to his neon purple hair and uncountable piercings, but Remus laughed loudly, startling both the drunk man and the child, "oh Come on! That was weak shit, Pat-Pat. Say it like you mean it!"

"That's not necess-"

"HI!" the tiny voice bellowed over his protests. Father and son laughed together as Virgil sputtered.

"Now that's what I'm talking about, my little monster! Alright, enough fun. Back to bed, you rascal. Papa has to take care of the baby who drank too much apple juice," Remus beamed and set Patton down on the ground, waving as the child sped off back to his room.

"Cute kid. You didn’t mention a kid earlier," Virgil groaned and laid back down on the couch, head swimming.

"Yeah well, kids are chick magnets," Remus replied, not meeting Virgil’s eyes.

"Okay?"

"I'm into dudes…"

"And? It's not like a kid is gonna send good guys running," Virgil shrugged, very much regretting his choice of drinks that night.

"Yeah, you haven't run yet. But that was a very tired out and pacified little scamp you just met. You'll see in the morning- unless you wanted me to call you a cab now?" Remus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't wanna move," Virgil murmured, "but I would like kissesss."

"Direct. I like it," Remus smirked and slid down to kneel next to the couch, "but that would be taking advantage of your weakened defenses. Sleep it off and ask me in the morning."

Virgil whined and pouted at the denial, "please? I came all this way."

"Well, if you insist," Remus grinned and leaned in close. Virgil smirked and pulled Remus forward that last inch. Virgil tried hard to enjoy the kiss but the fact of the not yet sleeping child in another room tempered his desires greatly. After a minute, Remus pulled back and grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch.

"To be continued, Dr. Love."

"Fine. Good night," Virgil sighed and watched Remus stand and leave the living room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

---

Virgil awoke the next morning to a warm palm pressed against his cheek. He slowly blinked his eyes open to find bright blue eyes framed with thin black wire-rimmed glasses. Squinting out the light to protect himself from the impending headache, Virgil finally recognized the child from the night before.

"Hey, Patton-"

"Angels sing and demons cry, but we can't tell the difference," Patton stated sweetly, head tilted to one side.

"Hey Kiddo, breakfast time!" Remus called from the kitchen, "is Virgil up yet?"

Virgil felt a chill run down his spine as the child giggled, patted his face, and called back, "yes Papa! We're coming!"

Virgil groaned and sat up slowly, sore from sleeping on the couch with his piercings still in. How he'd managed to fall asleep in skinny jeans absolutely baffled him, almost as much as the peculiar little kid staring at him expectantly.

"What d'ya want, kid?"

"A kitty!"

"I don't have a kitty."

Patton’s eyes immediately brimmed with tears and his lip quivered before the child ran screaming back to the kitchen.

Virgil was sorely tempted to roll back over and hope he woke up somewhere quieter, but the smell of bacon and the temptation of seeing Remus in the daylight pushed him to his feet.

The guy he'd met in the bar had practically disappeared once Patton showed up. Remus had been flirty and suggestive and very interested in Virgil all night but nothing in his behavior would have ever led Virgil to suspect he had a kid and was capable of acting so.. fatherly. The man’s duality was almost unsettling.

Virgil walked over and stood in the door of the kitchen, silently watching Remus encouraging the weeping little boy to sit down and eat toast. He still wasn't sure why Patton had thought he would have a cat with him, but the disappointment had surely gotten to the little fella.

Remus looked up and gave Virgil a tired grin, "heya, sleeping beauty. How's your head?"

"Threatening to disown me. I didn’t touch him. He asked if I had a cat," Virgil nodded to Patton, hoping that Remus didn't think he'd purposefully hurt the kid.

"Oh don't worry. He asks everyone. His dad promised him one and well, do you see a litter box?" Remus rolled his eyes, standing and guiding Patton to the table, "you'd think after so many empty promises, the kid would know better, right?"

"Wait… you're his dad, right?" Virgil frowned.

"Nope!" Patton giggled, twirling his spoon between his fingers, "Dada lives in the big house!"

"Patton, eat your breakfast!" Remus barked, not unkindly before turning back to Virgil with a sigh, "no offense, but Patton’s dad is not exactly first date story material. Neither is Patton but well, that can't be helped now."

Virgil bit his lip, "right. None of my business… Except I shouldn't be here if you're married."

"I'm not married, sweetheart," Remus held up his hand to show off the lack of a ring.

"And this mystery father isn't… ya know," Virgil drew a finger across his throat in a wordless question.

"I fucking wish! Look, it's none of your damn business, Virgil. You want breakfast or the door?" Remus snapped, turning back to the food on the stove.

Virgil sighed and sat down next to Patton at the table, idly arranging shaped blocks in a haphazard pattern, "I'm sorry. I just don’t want to get in the middle of something complicated without knowing that's what's up. Yo, got another triangle for me, Pat?"

Patton grinned and grabbed a triangle from the table before shoving it somewhat painfully into Virgil’s palm. Remus watched the interaction and sighed overly dramatically.

"Hey, baby, why don't you go get dressed and pick out a movie?" Remus ruffled Patton’s hair, "no horror movies today though."

"Awwwww but I love the scary ones," Patton moped but obediently left the table.

Remus waited until Patton was out of sight before replying, "look, I don't have any secrets. I got nothing to hide. The only complicated thing right now is custody. My ex and I are separated and don't talk. Hell, I try to get him to pick Pattom up from Roman and Teddy's every chance I get. I love the little tyke but his dad pisses me off."

Virgil bit his lip, "that does not sound ideal."

Remus shook his head, "it's not. Like one day you're planning a wedding and processing an adoption, then before you know it you're divorced and fighting with the man you love for custody of the child he said made him sick to look at." Remus gritted his teeth, "Pat deserves so much better…"

Virgil nodded along with Remus’s story, "so why go out clubbing during your time with Patton? He doesn't need two absent fathers."

Remus chuckled, "don't freak out, but the first one of us who remarries has a huge advantage in getting full custody. Because neither of us is biologically related to Pat-Pat, it's become way too much of a battle.

"I'm sorry," Virgil whispered, studying the grain of the wood in the table.

"It's alright," Remus shrugged, "you're alright, Virge. Can I get that number now?"

Virgil laughed and took the offered phone, "yeah, call me when you've got some free time and Patton is with his dad."

Remus grinned and pocketed the phone, "oh you'll see how this works, sweetheart."

---

Patton was nearly a constant whenever Virgil met with Remus, but at least Roman had been mollified by Remus having a steady date so he and Teddy resumed babysitting during more adult dates. The Remus he'd met at the bar never quite resurfaced in the same way, sometimes the actual image of the tatted-up punk caring for a sweet little angelic-looking demon spawn of a kid took Virgil by surprise, and sometimes he was shocked with the things this man would say to his kid. Teddy constantly questioned Virgil why he had stayed even after learning more about the whole situation.

Virgil wasn't certain why. Patton had definitely tried to scare him off a few times. The kid was terrifying when he wanted to be.

But this little family was so very compelling, and Virgil was more and more certain with each date that he wanted a place in it.

"So, sugar…"

"Yeah, Rem?"

"I have a modest proposal for you-"

"Nope. Not gonna eat babies."

"Wha-?"

"Oh, shoot I thought for sure you were talking about the satirical essay. What's up, babe?" Virgil winced and turned to face Remus.

"How would you… like to start the process to become one of Patton’s legal guardians?"

"You're asking your boyfriend to adopt your kid who already has two dads?"

"Well yeah, because-"

"Because then the paperwork is ready to sign right after the wedding," Virgil interrupted with a grin, "you sneaky son of a biscuit!"

Remus laughed, "please, baby?"

"Not my call, sweetheart," Virgil smirked, "hey, Pattycake!"

Little feet pounded down the hallway, Patton skidding to a halt in the kitchen, "yeah? Prince Sparkles is in danger so this better be important!"

"You can save the Prince soon enough, kid. How would you feel-" Virgil suddenly felt very nervous as the gravity of the question finally hit him, "-how would you like… another dad?"

"Umm.. do I have to meet him?" Patton looked disappointed and confused.

"No, Pat-attack, Virgil is asking if he can be your dad too," Remus explained gently.

"You aren't already? I demand you be my dad this instant!" Patton bellowed at Virgil, pouting with the most betrayed expression he could muster.

Virgil laughed, "don't worry kid, this is just gonna be the paperwork that makes it official. You know I got you."

"Yay! New Dad! New Dad!" Patton beamed and ran around the table to dive into Virgil’s arms. Virgil caught him with a grunt and leaned into Remus.

"I think that's a yes from me," Virgil murmured

"Most excellent. Now I've got both my boys!" Remus grinned and wrapped both in a bear hug to seal the deal.

#dukexietyweek2021 #dukexiety #sanders sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #kid!patton #familial dukeality #familial intruality

[poptod]

hello! i'd like to make an ahkmenrah x reader request! maybe present-day reader gets teleported back in time to when ahkmenrah was alive and they eventually get to the palace and stuff happens? maybe they tell him about modern life? and maybe reader is unnaturally beautiful to the ancient egyptians because humans evolve to be more attractive as time goes on so a person from our time would be hot shit 4,000 years ago? this is long lmao. thanks!

Notes: god ive always wanted to do this kind of storyline but i was worried about like,, logic and stuff getting in the way of the storyline. anyway! i was so fucking elated to receive this request. i got a bit carried away so apologies! WC: 3.2k

+

Okay. It isn't that bad.

Would you ever see your family again? Probably not, but you weren't ruling the possibility out.

Would you ever get to have sour patch kids again? Probably not. But even during the time you lived in 2020, you had eaten more concentrated sour patch kids flavor than all of the people around you combined.

This little village on the outskirts of ancient Thebes is hardly L.A.––though that's probably a good thing––and is small enough for you to know every inhabitant. Your shop there is small to suit the town, and well known ever since your arrival in this time.

They found you beside the river, thought you to be a gift from the Gods. You were hazy, though––whatever had so forcefully pushed you back in time had made your head spin, making you sick and unbalanced. So, when they asked if you did in fact come from the Gods, you had no way of defending yourself either way. Generally you've been denying it––they think you are a god, and the only way you've convinced them you're not a god is by saying you're a gift from them. It explains the way you look, unnaturally beautiful and alien amongst the more pure genetics of earlier humans.

Your shop is pretty simple. You make portraits from paint, more realistic than anything else that exists, and it only affirms their belief in your god-like status. Fortunately word seems to not have gotten out––the village has remained small, and no one from Thebes has run into you. Every now and then you get unreasonably anxious that a noble will find you and turn you into a slave. It's a worry most people around you have, so you find comfort in the fact that you're not the only one. Still, you're not quite accustomed to such an atmosphere––the thought of nobles and Kings noticing you still sends terrified aches into your stomach.

It's about two weeks in that it gets bad. People start to pass by the village, more than you would've thought, and they're all looking to trade goods, food, and information. The people of the village talk about you––you're something interesting, you can't deny that, but they don't know just how worried you are. Whenever you see someone you don't recognize outside your home, you refuse to come out.

Five days later and there's soldiers in your home, looking over your paintings on their way back to Memphis from conquering the realm of Kush. You hold a deep contempt for them––you don't know all that much about history, but you know how Egyptian soldiers and Pharaohs reigned power over the people of Kush.

The soldiers aren't all that worrying. What really gets your heart pounding is the final man to enter your hut; a man bearing a crown and a long sword, with golden braces around his wrists and a chest plated in green scales. Your fingers dig into the wood of your counter when he notices you. The crown on his head––it's the crown of both upper and lower Egypt.

This is a Royal.

"Where did you learn this skill?" He asks you, eyes trained on one of your bigger drawings. It's just on papyrus––not for sale––and hung on the wall as a display of your talent.

"I spent a little while travelling the world," you answer. Technically, growing up in the modern world was a bit like travelling the world; you got to see the cultures and practices of many, many people. "The rest of it's practice."

"The peasants here, they... they claim you came from the Nile. Is that true?"

"Well... that is where I was found," you say carefully, but you can already tell you've fucked up. The look on his face is indescribable beyond the fact that he's pleased.

"How would you feel coming back to the capital with me?" He offers to you, setting his hands on the counter and leaning forward. "I think my father would much like to meet you."

"I – I don't think I'm really cut out for -"

"Nonsense," he dismisses with a smile, taking your hand from its' spot on the wood. "We shall teach you proper writing skills, give you a beautiful home, and the salary isn't horrid either."

You can't just say no. If you do, he's going to ask questions––he's going to get confused, and he's going to get suspicious. No one would turn down an opportunity like this; free schooling, free housing, and much more money for something you already do.

"Well... alright," you say quietly, looking to the home around you that you built with the help of the other villagers.

"Wonderful. My name is Kamun."

He's not a very nice person, you come to find. Or perhaps he's just not your tastes––the soldiers seem to like him well enough, at least the ones who aren't completely subordinate to him, but his attitude towards women and poor people is scathing to say the least. Otherwise he's very amusing, with a good sense of humor and quite generous with his food and wine as long as he gets his fill of it first.

The boat back to Memphis, where the royal family currently stays, is a long ride filled with various entertainments. It's clear these are not soldiers accustomed to rough conditions––the dancing women and flowing beer is enough to tell you that. Instead, you surmise these are faux war-heroes; people adored in their hometown for doing nothing but intimidating others in a foreign country. They try to get cushy with you, soften you up to their words and touches. It doesn't work.

He keeps you close to him. You let him do it, sort of––it's better than telling him no. Better than starting a ruckus. Then again, avoiding a ruckus is what got you here in the first place, standing before the doors of the courtroom where a false God on earth rules the Nile.

"Father, I bring you a gift from Thebes," says Kamun, pushing you forward by the small of your back. You can't bring yourself to meet the Pharoah's eye, so you fall to your knees and bow.

Everyone is staring at you. You don't look normal, and they all know it, and you know it. You could cry from the heat of their eyes on your back.

One of Kamun's soldiers steps forwards, handing the Pharaoh and his wife several of the drawings they'd taken from you. Silence passes as the two scan your work.

"How did you achieve such a mirror of the human face?" The Pharaoh asks in a slow, deep voice that sounds as he looks––old, weathered, wise.

"They came from the Nile," Kamun answers for you, and murmurs take the crowd by storm. You, on the other hand, feel your heartbeat increase in massive increments, speeding your already uneven breath. "A gift from the Gods, the locals said."

"I can't – I am not magic," you rush out, hoping your clarification clears you of any responsibility to the Pharaoh. You know he rules everything––if he says you are to stay here, you have no choice, and you don't like it here. Too many people. "I cannot give you anything, my King."

"I think you're lying," says a voice, its' tone soft and a velvet low. It catches you off guard, brings you to raise your head and meet the eyes of someone you don't know; a young man dressed in gold beside the Pharaoh's throne.

You almost lose your breakfast as your eyes bulge, your mind instantly recognizing him and connecting the dots. You were, by far, not a historian, but you knew a fair amount of Egyptian history––namely a family in the Old Kingdom who was headed by the Pharaoh Merenkahre. The remaining statues and busts of the King and his son are astonishingly accurate, and there can be no doubt in your head.

That being said, there also can't be any reaction on your face. You try your best to reign your expression in.

"I..."

Actually, you do have something to offer now. You know the names––memorized the history, committed each event to memory, and now you can pull their lifestory off from the top of your head. Wouldn't that be valuable to a King; a seer of the future, to predict the rise and fall of the economy and the coming armies. Besides, you can't just say he's wrong. That'd be treasonous to them. So you have to agree you're hiding something, come up with an excuse as to why you hid it, and it proves harder than you thought. You're quickwitted, though––it got you away from the villager's wrath, and it will promote you to noble living now.

You hide a smirk beneath a calm expression as you address the younger prince.

"They gifted me foresight," you say quietly, pretending as though it hurts you to tell the truth, "but told me to never inform others."

"You are in the presence of Ra once more," the Pharaoh reminds you.

"And others," you point out. "I would... it would be better to discuss such matters.. in private."

Detailed information about already-past events is enough to sway him to believe you. The Pharaoh is surprisingly easy to convince, and with a few, meaningless predictions of the future, he gives you housing in his own palace. Kamun looks proud of himself––puffs his chest out in front of his father and earns no compliment. Ire laces his glare as it falls upon his brother, Ahkmen, praised for his ability to see through your obvious lie.

The Pharaoh asks his younger son to guide you to your room. Apparently it's closer to his room than it is to Kamun's, and evening is approaching fast. The walk there, while short, is marked by a conversation composed mainly of Ahkmen's questions and your answers. When the two of you reach your room, he doesn't leave––actually, he follows you in and locks the door.

There's nothing more terrifying than a man with unchecked power, and there is no one watching you.

No fail safe.

You gulp.

"I know you're still not telling the truth," he says, and though it dismisses several of your worries it still begs the question; how did he notice? "Just thought I'd spare you the embarrassment in front of my father, but my generosity ends there. Now I won't hurt you, and I won't tell anyone––I'm just curious."

Oh thank fuck. He's not going to rape you.

"I'm not Egyptian," you blurt out.

"Obviously," he interrupts, but you glare him into raising his hands defensively.

"I'm from the future."

He stares at you. For a minute. You know this because you count it––he just pauses right in his stance, doesn't move, and stares at you for a whole minute like you just told him you're made of gold.

"I'm sorry, what?" He says, laughter suddenly wracking his body.

"It's how I know what's going to happen to your family," you say, hoping he'll believe you. Otherwise this handsome, seemingly-nice man is going to think you're insane for the rest of time. "I studied your family for years as a side-hobby, I don't know how to predict the future for anything but you and your father."

His laughing pauses, or lightens at least; enough for him to say, "actually?"

"Yes," you say, completely serious. This seems to gain his interest once more. "You have to help me. I know at some point people are going to ask me questions about other things and I'm not going to have an answer."

"Just do what all our priests do," he says with a chuckle.

"What do they do?"

"Lie," he says. You can't stop the grin that spreads across your face from the stupid joke, and when he sees that a shit-eating grin spreads across his own face, delighted he could make you laugh.

"Yes, well... I guess I could do that," you mumble in a laugh.

"There's no need for you to worry. Now that I know the truth, I can help you," he says, offering you something that takes nearly all the anxiety out of your brain. After two days travel with a prince, it feels like it took 50 pounds off your shoulders.

"Thank you, so much," you chuckle in relief.

"Of course. I do have questions though, and I want you to answer them."

"Anything."

These questions of his, they come at all times––almost at a constant rate when he takes you on long walks, which he does often. He passes it off to his father as an interest in your beauty, and it apparently works. This little lie also helps you enormously in avoiding the romantic advances of many of the people you come into contact with. You're still not quite sure how it works, since Egyptians supposedly had a strong sense of patriotism, but you look rare and they idolize it. Every eye that falls upon you sees something beautiful, and you can't understand it.

At least Ahkmen is normal. He doesn't talk about you being beautiful. Ever.

And it kind of makes you sad.

"Would you say people on the whole are happier in the future or in the past?" He asks you, his words surrounded by the warmth of a summer day in Egypt.

Birds chatter loudly in the trees around you, singing in the humid air that marks the mating season for many of them. The flowers that surround you are already familiar––you thought it would take longer for you to commit the shapes and colors to memory, but here you are. Dressed in gold-laced silk and turquoise necklaces.

"I think the happiness of a population is dependent entirely on the circumstances surrounding it," you say. Sometimes your answers relate more to the human condition than the progress of time on the human race; he likes these answers, too, so you tell him exactly what you think. "Six thousand years from now, there are times of great misery. One is even called the Great Depression, but five years before that were some of the most prosperous times my country had ever seen. The same cycle is evident here."

"So.. great misery and great happiness come in waves?" He asks, pace slowing as he tries to understand what you're saying. You pause along the pathway, allowing him space to think.

"It's a pattern, actually. When the economy goes up, it will always come down. Recessions happen right after economical booms. And yes," you say before he can ask, "a time of unease will follow the prosperity of the current years. But it won't be for a time yet."

"Will it happen in my lifetime?"

He's murdered about three years from now. You think you might be able to stop it, but if you do, it'll alter history quite a lot. Either way, he wouldn't live long enough to see the recession the building of the great pyramids caused.

"No," you say. "But I'd prepare for it anyway, if only to keep your citizens safe."

"Of course. You... you are a great scholar," he tells you, resuming the slow walk down the shore of the Nile.

"Oh. Uh, thank you," you mumble as a blush fills your cheeks.

"What did you do in your time?"

"I was an artist, but I spent a lot of time giving lectures on the role of autistic people in ancient Egypt. Autistic people are often timekeepers," you say, and you know he'll figure out what you mean. Autistic isn't a term here, but many timekeepers of these ancient times were autistic, and considered highly by their societies.

"You might be able to give lectures again, if you'd like," he suggests. "People would come from far and wide to hear you speak. And you've got things to say that I know many scholars will find interesting."

"Mmm," you wince, "I kind of want to stay away from altering history too much."

"Oh, yes. My apologies," he says in a softer voice.

"It's alright," you say. "I'm glad you think I would be a good choice for that kind of thing, though."

He chuckles bashfully as he turns to the ground, scuffing his sandals as he walks.

Ahkmen is sweet––much sweeter than any of his family members, and you find yourself appreciating that every time you pass by his room. You pass his door often, always stopping a second to contemplate the tall, wooden doors. He's on the pathway between your room and the library.

Most of the time he's not in his room. Actually, you can usually find him in the library––there or outside in the markets or near the stalls. Today is different; he's been missing all day, and only when you walk the path back to your room do you hear his voice, talking to himself in his bedroom.

"They're bombarded with just such compliments, though. I can't – I can't stand out!"

"Or maybe you should, because you still haven't said a single thing yet and they probably think you're completely uninterested and that's why they aren't noticing you?"

"You and your... logic," Ahkmen spits.

"Come complaining when you kiss them under my advice."

As you attempt to peek through the crack in the door you stumble, knocking your hand against the wood. You barely hesitate before knocking again––cool and collected, smooth to slip into another lie.

"Oh! Hello, um – hi," he says awkwardly, slipping out of the room when he sees you. He quickly closes the door behind him, careful to keep you from seeing the other person in his room, but you can't bring yourself to care about the stranger.

Think of an excuse, why am I here?

"Oh, that's... I like your flower," he comments softly, eyes flickering between your eyes and the flower tucked into your hair. You'd forgotten about it, but raised your hand to touch the petals as you smiled. The perfect excuse

"Thank you. I thought you might like it, so I," you take it out of your hair and grab his hand, holding his palm upwards, "wanted to show you.. um, here."

Setting the flower in his hand, you curl his fingers around its' stem and push his hands back into his chest. He stares at you for a moment, confused by your strange behavior, but accepting of your gift anyway. You know him well enough now––he'd never decline a gift from you.

"A white iris," he tells you in a lofty tone. "A symbol of the dead. Funny it looks so lively on you."

You need to get out of here before your chest combusts.

"I need to go now, but I'll see you this evening, yes?" You ask, stepping instinctively closer. He doesn't back away.

"Of course. And, um," he takes your hands, keeps you where you stand as he slips the flower back behind your ear, "keep it. I want to see it on you at dinner."

He's close to you––close enough that it gets hard to distinguish his breath from your own, when you started holding his hand. When his other came up to your face. When he leans in and kisses your forehead. It's barely there, just barely, but there's no mistaking the soft plush, the affection clear behind gentle, precise movements.

You rush away the second he lets your hands go.

#ahkmenrah x reader #rami malek

[calcifermovesthecastle]

Plus One

Mista x F! Reader, College AU

nsfw, minors dni

warnings: alcohol, swearing. 

“What’s the word?” A familiar arm drapes across your shoulders, pulling you against a warm side. You huff, doing your best to squirm away from him. 

“Let me read, Mista,” You turn the page in your book, refusing to look anywhere but the text. Mista squeezes you, laughing. 

“C’mon, Bombolone. I’ve been here forty five minutes and you haven’t even said hi to me once.” 

“Hi. Let me read.” You nudge his side with your elbow, and he laughs again. You’re loathe to admit the sound fills you with warmth. 

“So what’s the word?” He repeats, swinging his legs over your lap. You huff, pink beginning to dust your cheeks. 

“Nothing new, other than the fact that I can’t read anymore, I guess,” You look over at him, snapping your book shut. “C’mon, Mista. I have a paper on this book due next week.” 

“And I have a plus one due to a wedding in two days.” He grins easily, linking his hands behind his head. Your gaze flits to the other students in the common area. “You still haven’t given me an answer.” 

“Oh, Mista, you know I-” You sigh, meeting his face. “I’m busy.” 

“If I go to that wedding alone, my Famiglia will never let me hear the end of it,” He hums. “I’m on my knees, bombolone, you know how us Italians are.” 

“Clearly, on your knees.” You rest your elbows on his legs, putting your chin in your hands. “Promise you’ll leave me alone after?” 

“Scouts honor.” 

He grins, reaching over to gently punch your arm. “Do you have a dress?” 

“The nicest thing I own is a polo from a career tech program I joined in high school and a pair of khakis,” You answer, rolling your eyes. He hums, his eyes closing in thought. 

“Come on. I’ll buy you a dress, then.” He swings his legs off of you, dragging you to your feet. You balk at the idea, trying to wrench free from his grasp. 

“No, I can buy my own-” 

“Nonsense! We have to match anyways. It’ll be fine. Think of it as me paying for you to come to the wedding with me,” He smiles, lacing his fingers with yours. You bite your lip, squeezing his hand. 

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” You finally relent, easing out of his grip to grab your school bag. “Has anyone ever been able to say no to you?” 

“Several people, actually. Most of the time.” He plucks the bag out of your arms, looking smug. You shove him gently, your face burning. 

“Oh, shut up.” You don’t protest when he drapes an arm around you. “We have to make this quick, though. I have a class at four.” 

“That’s plenty of time.” 

-

“Are you going to let me see the dress on you, or are you just going to hide in that changing room all day, Bombolone?” Mista’s voice leaks through the curtain, and you flush, worrying at how the fabric hugs your frame. It doesn’t look bad, but it does accent some of your insecurities. 

“Give me a moment,” You reply weakly, adjusting the fabric so that it sits more nicely against you. “Okay.” 

Before you can lose your resolve, you pull the curtain back, spinning around in a slow circle. The soft blue fabric sways with your movement, and when you finally meet Mista’s eyes, his mouth is hanging open. 

“I knew it! It looks terrible on me, doesn’t it?” You blurt out, hugging your arms. Mista grabs your shoulders, getting right up in your face. 

“What?! No! I think you look incredible! I just...Stai così bene che ho dimenticato come parlare,” He mumbles, and you step back, huffing. 

“You know I don’t speak Italian, Mista.” 

He flushes, and you stare for a moment. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him blush. 

“I said you look so good I forgot how to speak,” He turns away from you, biting his lip. “I mean it. You look amazing in that dress.” 

“You think so?” 

“Yeah, definitely,” He sounds breathless. “Let’s get this one. There is nothing terrible about this dress.” 

You shuffle your feet when you reach the counter, flushing when you hear the clerk tell Mista how much he’ll be paying. 

“Oh, Mista, no, Let’s go back and find a cheaper dress,” You tug on his arm. “Or let me pay for some of it.” 

“Absolutely not,” He pulls out his wallet, handing the clerk his card. “I told you I’d pay, right? So let me pay. Don’t worry about the price.” 

“Who’s even getting married?” You ask, dropping your arms and clasping your hands in front of you. He grins down at you when the purchase is made and slides his arm through yours, leading you out of the store. 

“You’ll meet them at the wedding.” 

You slide into the passenger seat of his car, checking your phone. He puts the dress in the trunk, slipping behind the wheel and starting the car a moment later. 

“It’s only two thirty, do you want to go get lunch? My treat?” 

“After you already blew so much on me?” 

“Please?” 

“Mista, I couldn’t. Really. You can come join me in my apartment if you’re quiet and let me study.” 

“I’ll cook for you then!” He drives off, smiling to himself. You sigh, fixing your gaze out the window. 

-

You’re roused by your phone ringing early in the morning, and you groan, answering it without even checking the caller ID, your voice thick with sleep. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, get ready. You can do whatever you want with your hair. I’ll be there in about forty five minutes.” 

“Mista?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh, jesus,” You pinch the bridge of your nose, yawning. “You really expect me to be able to do my hair in forty five minutes?” 

“No, of course not. I’m going to make you breakfast. We don’t have to leave for another four hours.” 

“Jesus Christ,” You yawn again. “Door’s unlocked. Just walk in.” 

-

“Hey,” You jerk awake when your shoulder is shaken, and bolt up, narrowly missing Mista’s face. 

“Shit! What time is it?!” 

“Relax, you still have plenty of time,” Mista steps back, tilting his head. “Did you fall back asleep?” 

“Unintentionally,” You sheepishly avoid his gaze. “Sorry about that.” 

“Hey, that’s why I came over so early. C’mon.” He grasps your hands and pulls you out of bed, righting you when you stand so you don’t fall over. “Coffee?” 

“Huh? No, I’m just going to take a quick shower.” You wipe at your eyes, and he smiles at you, lopsided. You stare at him blankly. “What?” 

“Nothing. You’re cute when you wake up, that’s all.” He tweaks your nose and leaves your bedroom, humming to himself. You stretch and head towards your bathroom. 

The shower does a good job at waking you up.

You enter the kitchen, in nothing but a slip and a robe, running a towel over your face. 

“Should I wear makeup?” 

“If you want,” He answers, setting a plate of pancakes in front of you. “I personally don’t think you need it.” 

“You made these?” 

“Yeah.” 

“They look good.” You take a bite, your eyes fluttering closed. “They taste good too.” 

“Hey, thanks.” He grins. “Do you mind if I use your bedroom to change?” 

“Go for it.”   

He emerges some time later, fixing the cuffs of his shirt, and you stare, dumbfounded. He catches your eye and grins easily, running a hand through his hair. 

“My eyes are up here,” He jokes, and you flush, looking away. “Like what you see?” 

“You wish,” You shoot at him, placing your thumb nail in between your teeth. He laughs, nudging your arm with his fist. 

“Did you think maybe I was bald under my hat? I know, my hair does come as a shock to some people, but don’t let it get your panties in a twist.”

“Go change into your dress if you’re ready,” He pours himself another mug of coffee, leaning against the counter and watching you with glinting eyes. You slide out of your chair, face flushed, and disappear into your room. 

Twenty minutes later, you emerge, dress on, makeup and hair done, facing another problem. 

“Uh, Mista? What am I going to do about shoes?” 

“Go ahead and just wear whatever for now, we’ll stop somewhere on the way. And make sure to take a jacket, it just started raining.” 

“Lovely,” You grab the nicest coat you own and shrug it on, pulling your umbrella out of the side closet after tugging on the shoes sitting by the door. Mista checks his phone, humming. 

“Ready?” 

“Alright. I’m part of the wedding party, but I won’t be away from you for long.” He offers you his arm and takes the umbrella from you, walking you out to his car and helping you into the passenger seat. You scroll aimlessly through your phone, nerves causing your hands to shake the longer the car ride goes. 

Halfway through the ride, he turns on the cd player and sings along quietly, tapping the wheel to the beat of the song. You’re surprised to find that he has an amazing singing voice. 

He catches your gaze out of the corner of his eye and grins, winking at you.

“You’re catching flies, bombolone.” 

You flush, looking back down at your phone. He chuckles, pulling into the parking lot of a shoe store you’ve barely even dreamed of seeing the inside of. 

“What size shoe do you wear? I’ll go in and pick something out for you.” 

“Oh, uh-” You tell him, and he grabs the umbrella from the backseat. “But-” 

“I better not hear you complain about me buying you something else, Tesoro,” He catches your eye, his glinting. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. We’re friends, right?” 

“At least let me pay you back?” 

“Absolutely not,” He smiles, leaving before you can get another word in edgewise. You slump against the seat, exhaling sharply.

He returns roughly fifteen minutes later, box in hand, a smile on his face.

“They match your dress,” Is all he says, and drives off, humming to himself. 

-

You’re asking yourself why you ever agreed to this when he pulls up to the venue, and your nervousness only grows when he reaches into the backseat and hands you a small box. 

“Relax, I’m not asking you to marry me yet,” He jokes, opening the box for you. “It’s just a corsage.” 

“Even if you did ask, I’d say no.” You watch as he slips the flower onto your wrist. He jokingly slumps back into his seat and throws an arm over his eyes, groaning. 

“Merda! How do you expect me to go on like this? I’ll just stare forlornly at the wall the entire wedding! I won’t even dance!” 

His joking manner chips away at some of your anxiety, and you can’t help but smile. 

“You’ll move on, I’m sure. Maybe I’ll finally be able to finish my schoolwork when you do.” 

“No chance,” He grins and peeks at you from under his arm. “Pull your seat back and change into your shoes so we can go in. I’ll have to leave you pretty soon but just pick a seat wherever and I’ll meet back up with you after so I can take you to the reception.” 

“I know what’s bothering me about this,” You say, opening the shoebox and gazing at the blue satin flats inside. “You never have anything this planned out.” 

“Ah, you can’t say never,” He jokes. “I had a whole plan to ask you out after I met you in Professor Nero’s class.” 

“You dropped that class, Mista.” 

“Who knew that biochem would be so difficult?” He sighs wistfully. “I just don’t have the brain for it. Who would have thought we’d see each other again in Sociology?” 

“Did you finish your paper yet?” You ask him, tugging the new shoes on. 

“Absolutely,” He laughs. “Absolutely not. I haven’t even started it.” 

“Mista, that’s due on friday.” 

“Ah, I’ll get it done,” He waves you off. “We have other things to worry about right now.” 

He steps out and around the car, opening up the umbrella and your door for you. Instead of offering you his arm, he laces your hands together as you walk into the massive church. 

“Mista, Siamo tutto qui!” A younger boy, with black hair and bizarrely violet eyes waves Mista down, and Mista calls over to him. 

“Ah, arrivo tra un minuto, Narancia!” 

“Mista, am I going to be the only english speaker at this whole wedding?” 

“Nah, ‘course not,” He squeezes your hand. “Everyone here speaks English, some better than others. I gotta get going, sit anywhere in the chapel but the first three rows.” 

“O-okay,” You find you miss his hand when he lets go, and you watch him walk down the hall, tossing his arm around a slender blonde man. 

You suppose it’s good to know he’s this familiar with everyone he comes across, You think to yourself as you take your seat and clasp your hands together. 

Other guests begin to fill the pews as time goes on, some casting you weird looks, other’s ignoring you completely, some smiling. You bite the inside of your cheek, jumping when the music starts. You watch as the groom makes his way up to the front- a long silver haired man in a black suit and purple lipstick. Trailing behind him is a young woman with bright pink hair, the purple haired boy you saw earlier, and a different, grumpier looking blond. The first blond follows him, and he’s followed by Mista, who winks when he catches your eye. Everyone stands when the- other groom starts to walk down the aisle, donned in an elegant white suit, his raven hair pristine and perfectly in place. 

The actual ceremony flies by for you, mostly because you barely understand any of the Italian being spoken. Mista grins over at you when the couple kisses, and when you finally meet back up with him at the back of the church, he pulls you into a hug. 

“Let me introduce you to my famiglia, bombolone.” 

“O-okay?” There’s not much you can do but follow him, and you’re skidded to a halt in front of the married couple themselves. 

“Bucciarati, questa è quella ragazza di cui ti ho parlato, da scuola.” 

The man in the white suit turns and smiles at you warmly, taking your hand and brushing his lips against your knuckles. 

“Parli italiano?” 

“Uh, molto poco,” You’re nervous, but much less in front of this man than you thought you’d be. He nods. 

“How are you enjoying your time here?” His accent is thick, but his english is near perfect. 

“I love it here,” You tell him, clasping your hands in front of you. “My Italian classes are giving me a hard time, but I am working hard to learn the language.” 

“Ciao,” The other man says gruffly, glancing over you before turning away. Bucciarati smiles, waving his hand. 

“Don’t worry about him, he’s like that with everyone new. I’m surprised Mista convinced you to come.” 

“I have a hard time saying no to him,” You confess quietly. Bucciarati laughs. 

“He can have that effect on people, can’t he?” 

“Come meet Giorno,” Mista tugs on your arm, pulling you out of your conversation. Bucciarati reprimands him in italian and waves you off. 

-

You step out of the passenger seat of his car, hurrying into the convention center where the reception is being held. Mista waits in the car for the rest of the wedding party, watching you go. 

It’s later in the night when Mista approaches you out on the patio. You had retreated from the cacophony of loud music and voices, nursing your fourth glass of sweet red wine and watching as the clouds roll through the dark sky. 

“You disappeared on me,” He rests his forearms against the railing, and you glance at him, eying him appreciatively when you see that his jacket has been discarded and the sleeves of his dress shirt have been rolled up. The alcohol is doing well to make your judgement fuzzy, so you reach over and squeeze his arm. 

“Loud.” 

“It can be, yeah,” He nods, noting the way your cheeks are flushed. “How much have you had?” 

“This is my last one. Promise.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” He smiles, looking up at the sky. The loud, boisterous music turns into something soft and sweet, and you hear Mista take a deep breath.

“Would you come dance with me? Per favor?” 

You look down into your half empty wine glass, nodding. He pulls it from your hands, setting it down on the ledge, and moves to guide you back inside. You pause, just at the door. 

“Can we dance out here? I don’t want to take any attention away from the newlyweds. And it’s quieter out here, I can hear myself think.”  

“Of course,” He smiles and takes your elbows gently in his hands, pulling you against his chest. You stumble and fall, a giggle spouting from your mouth. “God, I finally get you on a date and you’re drunk.” 

His tone is teasing, and he rests his hands on your hips to keep you steady. 

“Not that drunk,” You giggle again, winding your arms around his shoulders. He tilts his head down towards you, his grin morphing into a smirk. 

“After this dance, I’m making you drink some water,” He lifts a hand and tweaks your nose. You flush and, thanks to your clouded judgement, bury your face into his chest. He rests his chin on top of your head, humming softly along to the song that filters through the door. 

-

You’re nearly sober by the time you make it back to his car, and he asks if you want to go home or if you’d like to spend the night at his place or if you’d like him to take you back home. 

“Do you live alone?” 

“Yeah, I have a one bedroom just off campus.” 

“How big is your bed?” 

“I was going to sleep on the couch.” 

“That didn’t answer my question,” You say, leaning back against the seat. 

“It’s a double.” 

“Mm, sure then. I’ll stay,” You smile over at him. “I can help you write that Sociology paper tomorrow then.” 

“Curses! You’ve revealed my hidden plan!” He slumps jokingly, burying his face in his hands. You laugh, and god, he could listen to the sound of you genuinely laughing forever. 

You step into his apartment, slipping the flats off of your feet by the door. He steps around you after slipping his own shoes off, and turns the kitchen light on. 

“Want some tea? It’ll probably do you good to prevent a hangover tomorrow.” 

“Sure.” You sit gingerly on his couch, looking around. He watches you for a moment, disappearing into his bedroom after putting the kettle on the stove. 

When he comes out, He hands you a folded pile of something soft and tells you to go ahead and shower and change, and that your tea will be ready by the time you’re done. 

You do as he says, washing your face and changing into the clothes he provided. 

You inspect the blue hoodie and clean pair of shorts he gave you, smiling to yourself. You never expected to dance with him, much less spend the night at his place and wear his clothes. The hoodie smells faintly of gunpowder, and you think to ask if he maybe visits the shooting range. 

Steam billows out of the bathroom door when you open it, and Mista teasingly asks if you’ve left him any hot water, handing you a warm mug of something that smells delicious before he disappears into the bathroom himself, emerging some time later in sweats and a loose t-shirt. You catch yourself eyeing him appreciatively again, and firmly turn your gaze down to the almost finished mug of tea. 

He joins you on the couch, tossing his arm across the back of it and flicking the tv on. For one of the first times, it’s silent between the two of you, and comfortable. Before long, you scoot closer to him and rest your head against his shoulder, and you can’t blame alcohol for that decision. Part of you is terrified, but the other part just feels warm and sleepy and content. 

“Woah, don’t fall asleep on me, bombolone,” He wraps an arm around you and peels you away from him, smiling softly. “If you’re tired let’s get you to bed.” 

“Mista, I want to cuddle with you,” You say, meeting his eyes. “It’s really scary, but I want to do it.” 

“Why is cuddling with me scary?!” 

“I may be realizing that I have a tiny amount of feelings for you,” You bite your lip. “And no one’s ever- I’ve never been held like the way you held me while we were dancing. It made me warm and fuzzy inside.” 

“That so?” He smiles, resting his cheek against the top of your head. You nod. 

“I promise that’s not the alcohol talking either. Please?” 

“I can’t say no to you,” He finally sighs, standing and pulling you up. You positively beam at him, and it’s his turn to flush and look away. 

He takes your hand and retires to the bedroom with you, allowing you to cuddle up against him when you both lie down. There’s a feather-light kiss pressed to your forehead, and your eyes have slipped closed. 

-

You wake first the next day, and notice you’re on your side facing Mista. His arm is draped over your side, and he’s snoring softly. His face is much more boyish when he sleeps, his face completely relaxed. You stretch, turning onto your back, and think about what you told him last night. 

Seeing him like this only solidifies the feelings that have nestled in the center of your chest, and you curse yourself lightly when you realize that he’s won, and that you aren’t even upset that he’s finally won you over after a year of knowing you. 

He grunts softly in his sleep and drags you closer, so you turn to face him again and card a hand through the short curls on top of his head. His eyelids flutter, and you’re met with his impossibly dark eyes the next moment. 

“Cazzo, you’re really cute when you’re sleepy,” He reaffirms what he said to you yesterday, giving you a lopsided smile. You blush, trying your best to keep a smile off of your own face. 

You don’t do a very good job at it. 

“You too. You snore though.” You avert your eyes, covering your mouth with one of the hoodie sleeves. 

“Shoulda heard yourself last night. Though a weed wacker had gone off in my room.” 

“I do not snore!” You gasp, sitting up. He laughs and drags you on top of him, securing his arms tight around you so you have nowhere to go. 

“I wouldn’t call it snoring so much as a 747 temporarily taking up residence in the back of your throat.” He hums, keeping that cocky grin on his face. You scoff. 

“I do not snore.” You state it again, firmly, and he laughs, squeezing you. 

“There are ways of getting me to shut up,” He says lightly, and you narrow your eyes, tilting your head back. 

“Why is that my responsibility? Shut yourself up, Mista.” 

“D’you mind?” 

“By all means, I’ve been asking you to for a year.” 

He smiles, then, and grabs the front of his hoodie, dragging you down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. They’re extraordinarily soft, and they do more to shut you up than him. When he pulls away, you stare at him for a moment, before cupping his face in your hands and leaning down to kiss him again, and again, and again, until you have to physically drag yourself away for air. 

“Cazzo,” He pants, cupping the back of your neck with his palm. “Just...wow.” 

“Yeah,” You nod dumbly, searching his face. “Give me more.” 

His eyes glint, and he flips the two of you so that your back is pressed against the sheets. 

“Are you sure?” 

“God, yes. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and I am absolutely certain that I want to do it,” You reach up and drag him down to meet your lips again. His breath catches in his throat, and he worms his way down to your neck, his hands pushing up the hem of the hoodie he gave you. 

You arch your back so he can slide it off, and he groans out loud when your chest is laid bare before him. 

“Cazzo, You’re not cute, bombolone, you’re actually really fucking hot,” He breathes, cupping your breasts in his hands. You flush at his words. 

“Even the playing field,” You tell him, and you don’t have to twice because he’s already shrugging his shirt off. You’re finally met with the full plane of his stomach, instead of what you see when he wears his crop tops, and you trace the muscles appreciatively with a finger, stopping just at the hem of his sweatpants. He leans down, kissing your cheek, and starts to trail open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your carotid, stopping once or twice to suck gently at the soft skin there. He relishes in the way your breath jumps in your throat and grins against your skin, kissing along your collarbone and down your chest and stomach. 

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, pausing at the hem of the shorts, and you groan, twisting his hair into your hands. 

“God, please!” 

He laughs, a little nervously, and slides the shorts down your legs, tossing them off of the bed and spreading your legs and dipping his head between your thighs. His breath ghosts just over your clit, and you have to beg him again for him to finally start moving. 

“Sorry, I’ve just...never eaten anybody out before,” He huffs, closing his eyes and swiping his tongue up and along your folds. You gasp. “Sorry if I get a little experimental.” 

He slides his tongue up again, flicking it just right against your clit. You grip his hair harder, grinding down onto his face, your eyes squeezed shut. 

When he seals his lips around your clit and gives a testing suck, you cry out, clenching your thighs around his head. He groans against you, working to figure out what you like and what you don’t until you cry his name and arch your back, grinding against his face while you ride out your orgasm. He continues through it, forcing your thigh up and out with his free hand so he can have better access. It’s not long until you cum again, and you have to push him away when the stimulation nears pain.

“F-fuck,” You pant, blinking slowly as you try to bring the ceiling into focus. He pulls his fingers- you didn’t even notice he added more- out of you with a wet noise and holds them in front of your mouth for you to taste. 

He groans when you run your tongue along his digits, watching your face as you work diligently to clean them. He’s rock hard at this point, and itching to be inside you. 

He works off his sweatpants with a huff, his cock springing out and smacking your stomach heavily. It’s not terribly long, but dark and thick, uncut, the tip flushed pink and dribbling precum where it’s peeking out. Your mouth waters at the sight of it, but he rolls his foreskin back and nestles between your thighs, and your thoughts are clouded by what he’ll feel like inside of you. 

He takes his time, brushing the head along your folds until it catches at your entrance, and with a shaky breath, he slowly pushes in. 

You both moan when he does, your head falling back on the pillows, his hand reaching up to grip the headboard. 

“Cazzo,” He hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re so fucking tight, babe.”

He rolls his hips, eliciting a cry from you that sounds like his name, and sets a slow, heavy pace. He lifts one of your legs, resting it against his shoulder, and angles his hips so he can hit all of the best spots inside you.

“Christo, do you know how good you feel? Se non sto attento, verrò subito,” He leans down and catches your lips in a kiss, brushing against your cervix when he does. You moan into his mouth, your walls spasming around him. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groans, his hips pistoning even faster into you. “F-fuck, where do you want me to cum?” 

“I d-don’t care! Anywhere is-” Your words get cut off, and you scramble to find purchase against him when you cum for a third time. He pulls out and starts jerking furiously into his hand, and you flinch when warm cum spurts against your stomach. 

“C-cazzo, he groans, flopping down next to you when he’s spent. Both of you can do nothing but breathe and bask in the afterglow, your minds working hard to catch up to the experience. His chest heaves, and he turns his head to face you, a goofy smile on his face. “That was so hot.” 

“There’s no way that was your first time eating someone out,” You gasp, loosely clasping hands with him. He laughs. “That was too good.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” He squeezes your hand, exhaling sharply. “Fuck. Let me get you a towel. 

“If you clean me up good in the shower I’ll suck your dick for you while you write your paper,” You meet his eyes, grinning at him. His face flushes, and the next moment, he’s standing and lifting you off the bed. 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

#jjba #jojo #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #mista x reader #guido mista x reader #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #my writing

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 5

TW: Slight mention of violence

Words Count: 1.8k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 6

You wake up the next morning feeling slightly sore from having curled yourself up on the small couch. You find the bed’s already empty and when you enter the bathroom, the fresh smell of body wash still lingers which means he’s already showered and you assume he’s already gone to work by now.

You shower and make your way to the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast. Once you’re done, you set yourself to clean the house though there isn’t much to do since Mrs. Lee always keeps it sparkly clean. You pass by Jimin’s study room but has no idea why your feet stops in front of it.

You’re very curious. You had been in the study room once but at the time you didn’t have the chance to look around or see the details because you’re busy being confronted by Jimin and Taehyung. But you’re told that the room is off limits and you can only enter if you’re called upon by Jimin so you just stood in front of the door.

When you tear your eyes away, your attention is taken by the painting beside the door you didn’t notice before. Most of the walls on the corridors and hallways in Jimin’s house are filled with arts and exclusive paintings. Sometimes you feel like you live in an art gallery. Jimin does have excellent taste in artworks though. He has a range of paintings from classic arts to modern contemporary paintings and you find yourself studying each of them.

You’ve always had a passion in art ever since you were young. You wanted to pursue it in a more professional way, dreaming to take a degree in it but never had the opportunity to nor the chance, giving the way you’ve been in financial burden since forever. You don’t have much happiness growing up, but you do remember keeping small money from your daily wages in your locker in classroom before you have to give the rest to your parents or stolen by your brother, gathering it little by little for you to buy an art book and then a set of brushes, and then water colours until your brother found out about it and didn’t waste another breath before burning it all away.

You smile sadly then look down at your hands, missing the way the brushes feel in your hands, ready to create anything that you want. Perhaps the only thing you have control over in your life. Arts are fascinating, you think. You love the way you can immerse yourself while doing it, taking your minds off anything. It’s almost therapeutic.

Suddenly, you straighten up. Perhaps now that you’re finally away from your abusive brother, from your old life, maybe you can start again with arts and paintings. You might not have a husband that loves you back, but at least he doesn’t beat you half dead everyday. You’re thankful enough for that blessing in your life so you make a small promise to repay him in any way you could. You smile, thinking that you finally have a control over your own life.

The excitement quickly dampens when you remember that you don’t have money. You can’t really ask from Jimin, do you..? You don’t even have anything that you own that can be sold off.

Jimin’s been keeping you in his house so much, we thought we’d never see you. Jin’s words suddenly echoes in your mind.

He’s right, you think. You can’t just stay cooped up in the house forever. You’re practically only leeching off Jimin. You have to go out and find some real job. It’s also about time to start paying his debt back off. Your head spins slightly, thinking how long until you’d be able to pay the debt back off. Taehyung did mention the debt is practically waived now. Still, you don’t think it’s right.

Taking a deep breath, you set off downstairs. There’s a small room which is more like a library due to the rows and rows of books on the shelves, filling the walls of the room at the end of the hallway which you remember seeing a computer placed on a table at the corner. You quickly went there, fires up the computer and begin your job hunting session.

You don’t realise it’s already evening when you hear the sound of the front door opening. Your heart drops, realising you haven’t made any preparation for Jimin’s dinner. You quickly rush off towards the front door and sees Jimin, looking handsome as always in his working attire.

Except something seems off with him.

His hair slightly disheveled, he looks like he put on his shirt after sweating with some parts sticking to his body, his plump lips looking thicker than usual as if he’d just finished a make out session and he smells.. like sex.

It suddenly dawns to you that he must’ve had sex with another woman behind your back. That hit you like a truck. You feel a stabbing pain in your chest and you struggle to fight the urge to clench your chest, wondering how an emotional feeling could give you a pain that feels so.. physical.

“I told you not to fucking keep on standing there and stares like a creep!” He snaps.

“Sorry.” You feel the tear dropping before you could even process it.

“Stop apologising and just do things right.” He says, irritated. “What’s wrong with you?!” He finally take notice your watering eyes.

What is wrong with you exactly? You wipe it with the back of your hand immediately. “N-nothing.” You clear your throat, desperately trying to compose yourself. “Do you want to eat? I made some kimchi jigae and other dishes.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything and just regards you. “Let me shower first.” He says finally.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to the kitchen and swiftly prepares for his meal. He comes down after a while, his hair slightly wet and you note how he smells so good. You notice he has this manly scent yet it’s still soft to your nose.

“You don’t really have to act the perfect wife. There’s no one here but us.” He says as he takes his seat.

“I’m so-“ You halt, his words telling you to stop apologising comes to your mind. “I- I want to do it.”

He doesn’t say anything to that and an uncomfortable silence fills the air.

“Won’t you sit down instead of just hovering around?! For fuck’s sake,” he barks and you jump. You take a seat immediately, not wanting to prolong his anger and watch him eat. You like watching people eat something that you cook, as creepy as it may sound.

Silence fills the air again and only the sound of his cutleries and the plate clinking are heard. For a moment, you consider telling him that you have a job interview tomorrow but then decided against it. He might not be interested to know about it.

“Have you eaten?” He asks after a while.

You shake your head. “Don’t feel like it.” You wanted to eat with him because it’s been so long since you’ve had company. Eating alone doesn’t give you much appetite. But now that you find out he’s been cheating, you suddenly don’t feel hungry anymore.

You sigh. Stop it, you scold yourself.

He doesn’t owe you fidelity. After all, everything’s just temporary.

“Sit down and eat. You’re skin and bones. And you need to eat to recover quickly.”

You really don’t feel like eating but you do know not to go against his words. So you quickly reach for a plate and fills it with very small portions of rice and dishes. Luckily he doesn’t comment on that.

“You don’t really have to cook all these side dishes. Are you even well enough to do all these?” He grunts.

“I-“

“Simple ones would do. You don’t really have to go overboard.”

“I’m sorry..” You say softly and when he gives you a look, you almost want to apologise again before stopping yourself, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

He continues to eat in silence but then you notice him eating most of the dishes you made and you almost want to forgive him for sleeping with another woman.

“Why didn’t you sleep on the bed last night?” He asks, looking straight at you and you freeze.

You swallow, unable to find the right words to answer him.

“What? You’re afraid I might do something to you? Don’t worry.. I’ve no interest in terrified little lambs.” He smirks.

He’s a total psycho.

Yet you can’t help yourself. “No.. it’s not like that.. I know you’re not that type of person..” He frowns when you say that. “I- I just thought you might not like it. I don’t want to anger you.”

For a split second, you thought you saw his gaze softens slightly. “What kind of person do you think I am then?”

Huh? You blink rapidly several times, somehow taken off guard that he caught that part of your words. Inhaling deeply, you say, “I- I don’t know for sure.. but I know you’re not a bad person.”

At that, he suddenly stands, approaches you and before you know it his fingers grip your chin roughly, making you whimper in pain. “No babe.. That means you don’t know me well enough.. yet.” He smiles, a very sinister smile that sends shiver running down your spine.

He leaves before you could process anything, leaving nothing but lingering pain and your heart pounding fiercely.

When you enter your bedroom that, you expect to see Jimin inside but he wasn’t so he must’ve been in his study room. You’re already feeling sleepy yet you have no idea why but you feel like you have to wait for him.

Just to make sure he’s really okay with you sleeping here. He might not strangle you yesterday but.. there’s no telling so you don’t want to take the risk.

But your eyes are already giving out on you and you feel like you’re going to pass out into oblivion soon. You fell asleep like that then, curled up on the edge of the bed.

You woke up the next morning and the bed’s already empty but you don’t wonder about that. Instead, you vaguely remember falling asleep when you lay on the bed waiting for Jimin but you’re now properly tucked in the bed. Your heartbeat quickens at the possibility that Jimin had moved you.

You quickly put the images away from your mind though. You probably tuck yourself in somewhere in the middle of the night while half asleep. Though, you’re more than ninety percent sure Jimin slept in the same bed as you as his side of the bed wasn’t made. You don’t want to dwell in that thought.

Link to Chapter 6

Posted on 210405 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #bts fic #jimin fic #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #jimin smut #smut #kpop #mafia #jimin mafia #ceo jimin #bts smut #bts au #bts mafia

[blazogirlsoneshots]

The Intimacy of Doing Another's Hair (Hermione Granger x Reader)

The air in the tent was cold and stale as night gently fell around the clearing. The once warm stars seemed cold and heartless while the ambient noise of the forest had all of the inhabits of the tent on edge. It seemed like the slime of despair dripped off of every surface in the interior.

It had been a hard couple of months for the group, what with death eaters constantly chasing them and Ron’s abandonment and all. It definitely didn’t help that they traded sessions of wearing a piece of Voldemort’s soul around their necks. Every day it got harder and harder to find a bright side and Y/N was constantly fighting off the urge to simply feel nothing. At least that would be easier, right?

Y/N sighed as they got up from their spot at the table and walked over to the stove to fetch some water for another cup of tea. Only Hermonie was inside, curled up in her bunk with a lifeless look in her eyes, Harry was on watch for the next couple of hours.

Ever since Ron had left, Hermione had turned into a ghost. She barely ate or spoke and simply spent her days floating from research, guard watch, and setting protection spells in whatever new haunt they found. The once bright eyes were now lifeless as the seemingly perfect girl began to break. Both Harry and Y/N had tried to get through to the girl but to no avail. All they could do was watch.

“‘Mione? Do you want anything?” Y/N set their mug and walked over to Hermione’s bunk. Hermione made no recognition that she had even heard their voice. “Hermione?”

“I’m fine,” She whispered, not looking away from that one fascinating spot on the wall.

“When was the last time you ate? Showered? Did anything that seemed remotely like living?” Y/N asked, internally cursing the panic growing in their voice.

“I’m fine,” Hermione repeated.

“No, you’re not and I am not going to just sit here and watch my best friend whether away. Come on, get up, and at least let me do your hair. I know how much you loved it when I would do that.” Hermione seemed to snap out of her daze and finally looked up at Y/N. Back at school, whenever Hermione would drown herself in school work Y/N would always hunt her down and drag her away from the books long enough to restore her hair to its normal state of being. Usually, by the time Y/N was done Hermione was relaxed enough to take a short nap and actually eat something.

“I don’t even have any of my stuff,” Hermione said.

“What if I told you that a couple days ago I went out and got you some?” Y/N smirked.

Hermione sighed, “Well then I guess I couldn’t stop you, could I?”

“Nope, now come on I found that conditioner you really like.” Hermione smiled softly as Y/N helped her out of her cocoon of sorrow. “I also found the really soft robe that I think you’ll love and before you get on my case about how I should waste all of these things all on you, I figured we could all use it.”

“You didn’t have to do this.” Y/N gave Hermione a sad smile as she headed to the shower.

“But I wanted to, now,” Y/N stuck out her hand, “Give me Horcrux. I don’t think we’re supposed to get it wet and you’ve had it on long enough already.”

Hermione slowly unclasped the necklace and gingerly placed it in Y/N’s palm. She tried not to let the relief of the release of the weight show on her face as Y/N grimaced when they put it on.

“Now, go. All of the stuff is on the counter and I even found a deep conditioning mask if you want to use that as well.” Y/N shooed Hermione off as they began preparing a small meal for the two of them.

Y/N quickly became immersed in their work as they set about making the perfect grilled cheese for Hermione. They couldn’t get their hands on that one soup that Hermione really liked, but they did find a pack of muggle cookies that Hermione had always wanted to try. During late nights she would often lament on the sweets she never got to experience growing up, seeing as her parents were dentists and health nuts.

Hermione emerged from the steaming bathroom feeling lighter and more solid. For the first time in weeks, a true smile broke across her face as she gazed across the kitchen. Somewhere in the cooking process, Y/N had turned on the radio so soft cheer music filled the tent. String lights were strung about the room giving it a cheery glow. Two plates were laid out on the table with the food arranged in the shape of a smiley face and mugs set next to them with steam dancing in the air.

A rustle from the entrance of the tent caused Hermione to spin around as Y/N emerged from outside.

“Oh, hey you’re all done,” Y/N grinned. “I thought Harry would like some, so…” Y/N gestured wildly to outside.

“Thank you, it looks so good.”

“Yeah, I figured we could eat while we wait for the mask to finish,” Y/N shrugged. Hermione reached up to the cap on her head and let out a small chuckle.

“Might as well.”

The pair ate in comfortable silence as Hermione let the peace of the moment wash over her. If she closed her eyes, she could see herself back in the Gryffindor common room next to the fireplace surrounded by the comfort of her books and far away from the stress of today. It was hard to believe that period of her life was only a few months ago. On the run every day felt like several years. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had grey hair already.

They finished their meal rather quickly and Y/N cleared the table while Hermione went back to the bathroom to wash out the mask. She returned with a comb and settled in a chair as Y/N go to work brushing out her hair.

Y/N took extra care to be gentle with their friend as they slowly battled the army of knots that had built up in her hair. Years of doing this had taught Y/N to pick up on when they were hurting Hermione and exactly how much force to use. After all of Hermione’s long hair was detangled, Y/N parted her hair and got to work on two Dutch braids. This was always Hermione’s favorite part of the process. There was something so calming and so intimate about someone running their fingers through their hair as they intertwined the strands.

“Do you want me to lay your edges?” Y/N asked as they twirled the baby hairs around.

“Might as well,” Hermione had to push down the butterflies growing in her stomach. This was always the most difficult part, with Y/N so close to her face that she could see the depts of their eyes with their breath on her lips.

It was almost too much.

“There you go,” Y/N leaned back as Hermione’s eye’s fluttered open. “What do you think?”

Hermione couldn’t quite breathe yet and could only stare at them.

“‘Mione? Are you-” Hermione cut them off by lean in a capturing their lips with her own. Y/N’s eyes fluttered close as their arms wrapped around Hermione’s waist.

“It’s perfect,” Hermione whispered as she slowly pulled away. Everything was perfect.

A/N: What's this? Poppy actually writing something after a year?

masterlist

#hermione x reader #hermione granger x reader #hermione #hermione granger #harry potter #x reader #fic: hermione granger

[scoophilia]

Hiccup watched the furies from the window, dancing in place. His face hurt from an ear splitting grin. “I can't believe it! He's not the only one! This is amazing!” He said all giddy.

Astrid hummed in acknowledgment. As she placed the basket next to the hearth. Strong arms wrap around her suddenly, picking her up. Hiccup spun them around laughing.

“H-Hey! I know you're excited but PUT ME DOWN!” Astrid yelled, still smiling. They slowed to a stop and Astrid steadied herself when her feet touched solid earth. Hiccup pulled her close. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he sighed happily, then he murmured something against her neck.

“Speak up lad! Can't hear ye through the lass,” Gobber piped up, as he stoked the hearth.

“Oh sorry,” Hiccup said, lifting his face clear, “I said: we found another night fury! A female one at that! Toothless may be a dad this Snoggletog. Think of what we could learn from her, the kids, her pack, and-”

Astrid pulled way and turned to face him. She held her hands up.

“Woa, woa, Hiccup! Look, I get you're excited, but-”

“But what? Aren't you happy?”

“Of course I am, but let's be realistic. They might not become mates,” she cupped his face as his jaw dropped, “not cause Tooth isn't amazing, he is, but they might not pair up. Or she has a mate already. She coupld be alone too, we just don't know. I just don't- don't want you to get your hopes too high...”

Silence.

Brows furrowed together, Hiccup pulled away. “How can you even say that, Astrid? We found another after so long. If there's even one, there's a chance! And besides, look at all we've done,” he made a sweeping gesture towards Berk, “In five years dragons and vikings are living side by side. We stopped a madman for Thor's sake.”

“Hiccup, I know that! We don't know anything bout her. She could be the only one.”

“We thought the same for Toothless. It's unknown, yes, but that just means we gotta keep pushing forward! That's how we found her. There could be more and even something greater than that. Anything is possible....Right?” His voice dropped to a whisper.

Astrid stared up at him quietly. Crossing her arms tight, she sighed deeply before plastering a smile on her face, “you're right. If we found her after pushing forward, anything can happen!”

Joy flashed across Hiccup's face at this, until a loud chirp came from behind. Stormfly had poked her head through the window, chirping once more. Then squeakier chirps followed. Smaller Nadder heads peeked above the windowsill, and Astrid bit back a laugh.

“That's my cue,” Astrid said. A quick kiss to Hiccup's cheek before she walked over shoving the Nadder's head out the window muttering to herself. She looked over her shoulder grinning, “They wanna train now. Just like their mother. See ya later!” Astrid vaulted herself out the window and disappeared.

“Hmph!”

Hiccup spun around at the noise. From his spot at the hearth Gobber had scrunched up his nose, and not at the fire. The smith wasn't facing it. “Does that always happen?” He asked.

Another grunt came from him when he saw Hiccup eyes widened in confusion. Hiccup blinked owlishly at his mentor. Before he can speak, Gobber asked, “Does the lass always agree wit' ya?”

His hands flexed, then clenched at his sides as Hiccup gritted his teeth at the accusation. He sucked in a deep breath and lets it out slow. Finally he says, “don't like what you're insinuating, Gobber. This is Astrid, she doesn't agree with just anyone. She trusts me. Besides, she wouldn't just bend to make me happy.”

Gobber sighed, setting the bellows down. He shifted to face Hiccup and as he opened his mouth, a difference voice called out.

“You're too used to how Stoick and I were, Gobber. They're not the same.” They both turned to see Valka walking in.

Gobber said, “right, of course...” he then rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “ye...easy te forget when ya vanish for twenty years....”

“What was that, dear?” Valka asked.

“Nothin'.” Gobber muttered, poking the hearth again. Hiccup shot a warning look at Gobber. He was given a grunt. Hiccup sighed then smiled upon seeing his mother. Valka made her way over, eyes roaming the house.

“I came over te see how our new resident was doing. Didn' see her outside. I thought she might be in here.” Valka said.

Shaking his head, Hiccup said, “nah, she left with Toothless. Think he's showing her around.”

His gaze turned to the window where he stared long and hard. His lips twitched at the corners. Eyes twinkling, he spun on his heel and ran up the steps to his bedroom, grinning as he made a beeline for his desk. There, a notepad. He snatched it up before running back down, taking two steps at a time. Grinning ear to ear, he rushed by his mother and Gobber. The latter stared at him, gobsmacked. Hiccup gave a wave as he walked out the door. Gobber and Valka exchanged a single look.

Valka sighed and said, “I figured, knowing my son.”

She got up to follow her son.

Gobber sighed heavy and deep before his head rolled back groaning. He forced himself to his feet, dusting the hearth and killing the fire, then he fumbled after them, all the while muttering under his breath, “my son, she says. If he's anyone's son he's MY son...”

Pushing himself through the crowd of vikings and dragons after the sound of Hiccup's voice, Gobber found himself near the feeder station. The smith scratched his head. Gobber barely looked to his left when something pulled him down to the ground. A curse bubbled in his throat until he saw who did it.

“Hiccup...” Gobber whispered.

Knelt below the rim of the station, Hiccup's head peeking over it and Valka copied his stance. He shot a glance at his friend. He grinned, then pointing ahead. Gobber grumbled as he reposition himself to mirror him and Valka. Across the way they saw Toothless and the female fury walking by, mouths moving with wings and tails twitched. A prance was in Toothless' steps, and the female held her head a bit higher.

A loud screech echoed through the area then, and a swarm of Hideous Zippleback came soaring down across the rooftops. Several Terrible Terrors scattered from Gothi's roof, dropping to the ground where they scampered past Toothless and the Fury. The female dropped to the ground, eyes the size of dinner plates before they disappeared behind her wings.

Hiccup braced his hands on the feeder, ready to vault himself over, but Valka yanked him back by his shirt. He looked at his mother, stunned. She shook her head before pointing, “you'll scare her worse. And Toothless is already handling it, see?”

When they looked back, they saw Toothless knelt down and his mouth moving. Slowly inch by inch the Fury uncovered herself, blinking owlishly around her. Toothless warbled something at the Zipplebacks. As one, the group tilted their heads before bowing deeply them. The heads exchanged a small look before barreling over to the two Furies, and their forms were swallowed by the larger dragons. A roar broke up it all up and the group scattered into different directions. Toothless emered snorting in annoyance, then he looked down to see...the Fury hadn't moved.

Brow raised, Hiccup scratched his chin while tapping his fingers. He tried to push himself to his feet, but his mother, yet again, pulled him down. She gently whispered something in his ear, and his shoulders slump as he nodded. She then slipped away from them, off to who knows where. Gobber shuffled closer to Hiccup. The sparkle in the boy's eyes had faded as had his smile turned upside down.

“What did she say, lad?” Gobber asked.

Quietly, Hiccup said, “she'll handle it...she's the expert...”

Gobber opened his mouth, venom on the tip of his tongue. A shadow fell over them, and they both looked up to see Cloudjumper and Valka walking by. Gobber internally rolled his eyes. The big grump would be of no help in Gobber's honest opinion. He looked over to Hiccup, ready to say this, but forced it down the second he saw Hiccup beaming at his mother.

So they watched from their spot as Cloudjumper made his way to Toothless and the other Fury, the latter staring up at Toothless, too focused on him to even notice the new dragon approaching. Toothless' expression changed into a gummy smile and the Fury cocked her head, then followed his line of sight. Her jaw dropped as her head tilted upwards to Cloudjumper's face.

She screamed.

Then she ran.

Cloudjumper stumbled and fell backwards, wings flailing, and Valka jumped out of the way of his tail. Terrors flew off in droves from rooftops, and vikings nearby slammed their hands over the ears and any dragons that could did the same. Hiccup nearly jumped out of his skin. Gobber facepalmed. Toothless followed in pursuit, crying out for her.

The Fury ran through the splitting crowd, not even looking with her eyes squeezed shut. She slammed hard into someone and bounced off like rubber, landing flat on her back. Head spinning, she looked up to see Hookfang and his rider glaring down at her. The Nightmare's nostrils flared.

She gasped hard, a scream building in her throat. Toothless slapped a paw over her mouth. Toothless squinted his eyes at his friend, a growl rumbled from within. Hookfang rolled his eyes, but wandered away from them, Snotlout looking back only once with a sneer. When out of sight, Toothless sighed before he led the Fury away with one wing shielding her from the stares and whispers echoing through the village square.

Looks were exchanged, then all eyes turned towards Hiccup. The chief rose to stand and stated aloud, “she's new and got scared. Let's just let it be, return to what you were doing. Please.”

The crowd slowly began to disperse. Hiccup sighed, rubbing the back of his head, and looked over at his mother who was tending to Cloudjumper. She looked over, simply nodding.

“Never thought a'hd see the day. A Night Fury, being a coward!” Gobber blurted out as he got to his feet. Hiccup shot him a look. Gobber tossed his hands up and said, “oh come on! Ye saw it wit ye own eyes! And no, let Tooth handle it. You and me, we're gonna do some work!”

Hiccup's protests died on his lips as Gobber dragged him away by the collar. The quiet walk to the forge was filled with Hiccup talking a mile a minute bout what happened and Gobber nodding his head. Grump's snores bellowed out from the forge as they grew closer, and once there, Gobber handed Hiccup a saddle and hammer. Hiccup sighed, shaking his head. Gobber moved towards the back to gather more materials and check his dentistry schedule, and they settled into a steady rhythm. Three hammers on rivets into leather melded with the three taps of a dragon tooth being reset.

A familiar warble over the noise caught Hiccup's attention. He poked his head out to see Toothless walking over...with the Fury by his side! Hiccup grinned, and watched with glee as the two “talked”. The Fury's head hung low, yet her eyes sparkled like the sea as she took in the forge. At the doorway, he met up with Toothless.

Toothless bumped his head gently into Hiccup who patted his friend's neck. The Fury sat behind them, and curiosity flashed across her face. Toothless turned around to face her. Bobbing his head at Hiccup, he curled a wing around his friend. The Fury blinked once. Twice. Hiccup felt his breath hitch in his throat as she took a step towards them, him.

“I told ya to keep the kilns goin', Grump! Ya lazy beast!”

Loud grunts proceeded a sudden blast, and a burst of fire explodes behind the duo. Hiccup and Toothless spun around to see Gobber waddling out covered in soot. The smith grinned awkwardly.

Shrieks erupted from behind, and they spun around to see the Fury hissing and flapping her wings at them. Hiccup went to take a step towards her till light caught his eye, and the blood drained from his face.

“Toothless...YOUR TAIL!” he yelped.

The dragon snapped to attention, and found his fin ablaze. He slammed his tail several times on the ground to try and put it out and Hiccup bolted from his spot. He stomped on the fin (with his proper boot) before ripping it off with his bare hands. He quickly tossed it to the center of the road and the fire fizzled out as the flame hit the dirt.

Panting heavily, Hiccup looked at Toothless who looked back at him. The friends shared a sigh of relief.

A scream of rage filled the air. The Fury tackled Hiccup to the ground, her paws pressed against his throat. She opened her mouth, bulding up fire and Hiccup gulped.

Toothless let out a deafening roar. The Fury began to shake as her neck twisted to face the sound. Hiccup caught a glimpse of her muscles in her neck twitch and flex, her eyes bulging wide while her pupils turned to slits. He swore he heard her heart skip a beat.

With his wings flared open, his teeth bared, and an ethereal blue aura glowing along the length of his spikes, Toothless growled. The fury never looked away as her body moved on its own.

Hiccup jumped up, rushing to Toothless. He wrapped Toothless' head in a gentle hug, stroking his head soothingly, and only then did Toothless begin to relax. The blue aura disappeared a moment later. He said softly, “it's ok, bud, it's ok. Thanks bud, I'm ok really. Don't gotta go alpha, she didn't know. She wanted to protect you, right little la-” Hiccup stopped mid sentence when he looked at her.

The Fury stared without blinking, her body frozen. Her knees buckled. She dropped to the cold earth with a thud. ~~~~~ Been a hot minute since last update. Some drama happened in life, which put me in a rut and sense of dread. Am working on it tho! I'm still working on the story; got an outline to work with. Though next update may come out much later. Decided to write out the entirety of Starcrossed then do the art for it. Can post it consecutively rather than randomly. So stay tuned for that owo Thank y'all who read the story. Please leave your thoughts on it! I appreciate constructive criticism too. HTTYD belongs to Dreamworks while Legacy & Midnight belong to me.

#how to train your dragon #toothless #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #Astrid Hofferson #hiccstrid #Valka haddock #gobber the belch #night fury #dragons #artists on tumblr #small artist

[youbloodymadgenius]

Min Skat (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is for @maggiescarborough‘s and @gearhead66‘s birthdays 🎉 The truth is, I wanted to write two different fics but I had problems... As you may know, girls, I was on vacation. And the laptop I took with me was broken... So... I couldn’t write. I got home only 36 hours ago. That’s why I finally decided to write a single story, to share, for both of you. Hope you won’t mind. And since I know you both love fluff, then... fluff it is! 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVELY WOMEN 💖 🌷 💖

As usual, thanks to my lifesaver, @inforapound, for beta reading it so quickly 🌻

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Min elskede: my love - Min skat: my treasure

the gif belongs to @ohbelllaciao

Summary: You’re pregnant, childish, cranky, hungry, moody and it’s the middle of the night. How’s Ivar going to react?

Warnings: soft, soft, soft Ivar and a lot of fluff.

Words: 2308

Hands on your lower back in a futile attempt to ease the shooting pain coursing through your spine, you slowly cross the room. The faint moonlight allows you to see that Ivar hasn't moved. Covered by many furs, lying on his side, his eyes are closed, his steady breathing just loud enough to hear. 

 You honestly resent him for sleeping peacefully when you haven't been able to for weeks. There are so many reasons for your sleepless nights: the constant need to empty your bladder, the feeling of choking as soon as you lie down, the midnight cravings, your inability to find a comfortable position in your shared��bed, or the frantic kicks from the tiny human growing inside you as soon as you try to rest… You're exhausted. And mildly jealous.

Getting closer, you sink heavily onto the bed, releasing a deep sigh. Ivar immediately moves and groans, annoying you. He should know better and not dare to complain. "Ivar, don't expect me to apologize! I am warning you!" You hiss through clenched teeth, furrowing your brows. "Carry a baby for nine fucking moons and then, maybe, you'll be allowed to say something!"

 Sitting up, he grabs a candle and lights it before shifting next to you. 

 Looking at him, you see his big, sleepy blue eyes staring at you, bewilderment written all over his face. "Min elskede, are you all right? Is there anything I can do?" There's no annoyance or impatience in his voice, and his gentleness stirs you up. You love him so much… Forgotten, your previous anger is replaced by an emotional roller-coaster bringing tears to your eyes. 

 Since you don't answer, he gets closer to you, squeezing both your hands in one of his. "Y/N, min elskede, why did you get up? Tell me please."

Using his free hand, he gently fixes a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

 "I don't know…" Shrugging your shoulders, you try to explain. "I had… I was too hot. And then I had to… pee…" You blush. "And now I wish I'd grab something to eat. I'm hungry. And I'm cold." Snuggling into his arms, you can't help but pout. 

 Smiling at you, he kisses softly the tip of your nose before speaking firmly, grabbing and patting a fluffy pillow. "I'll take care of everything. Lie down, min elskede." You're too exhausted to fight back and just do as you're told. Rewarded by a soft kiss on your forehead, Ivar folds several furs onto you and you give him a little smile.

 You watch him as he throws himself onto the floor and starts crawling. The glorious sight of his nacked, chiseled chest is mesmerizing and painfully appealing. If you weren't so pregnant, you'd probably jump on him for a long and passionate lovemaking session. But here you are, huge and so weary that the simple thought of moving again exhausts you. Frustrated, you close your eyes, sighing heavily. 

 "I'll be right back, min elskede." Stopping at the doorway, Ivar gives you a last comforting smile and then disappears. You do know he'll come back with everything you could wish for, and undoubtedly more. 

 From the very beginning, Ivar has always been different around you. Nicer to you than to other people. Less prone to anger. You know it's because of the way you acted when you first met him. That night, for the first time in his life, he had been treated first as a human being, and not as a cripple. 

   He'd traveled all the way to Vestfold to ask your uncle, King Harald, for his support in his war against Lagertha. You, the illegitimate daughter of Halfdan the Black, the king's brother, lived most of the time further north with your mother, who had only been a one-night stand to your father. But once or twice a year, Harald invited you to Vestfold, usually for his own benefit.

 That time, the king had asked you – urged you – to seduce Ivar the Boneless, in order to strengthen their alliance. You didn't like being treated like a courtesan and had locked yourself in your room. It had taken all your father's forcefulness to convince you to come out. When you had eventually entered the hall, the feast in honor of the youngest Ragnarsson was in full swing. Dressed in a beautiful burgundy red dress offered to you by King Harald, you had caught everyone's attention but only had eyes for your uncle's special guest. Immediately captivated by his perfect facial features, you had felt as if you were drowning in his unimaginably blue eyes as soon you had looked into them, your heart skipping a beat. 

 Sitting next to your uncle, the chair to his left was free, reserved for you according to your father's words. Taking your seat nervously, you had wondered if he could hear the frantic heartbeat in your chest.  

 From that moment on, it was just the two of you. You weren't even sure the world kept spinning. For hours, Ivar and you had been talking, smiling at each other, his hand grabbing yours under the table, your fingers stroking his knuckles. 

You soon had realized that Ivar's reputation – a selfish, bloodthirsty and ruthless prince – only reflected part of the man he was: outstandingly intelligent, curious about everything, funny, smart and clever. He had asked you a lot of questions, wanted to know everything about you. You had told him about your village, about your mother's people, the Sami, and their peculiar customs. He had listened carefully, often asking you to clarify some details. He had been more reluctant to talk about his life, claiming that yours was much more exciting than his own, made of wars and blood. 

 When your completely drunk uncle had ended the feast, Ivar had put his hand on your forearm, tentatively offering to see you again the next day. Much to his surprise, you had agreed right away, a wide smile lighting up your face. And then a frown had crossed his face as he had lowered his head. "Y/N, I… There's something you need to know… "The panic was written all over his face. "I'm… not like everyone else." Swallowing, he had kept his head down.

 Of course he wasn't. He was different. He had won your heart in a matter of hours. What was the problem? Then, realization had hit you. Of course. Speaking softly, you had grabbed his hand. "I know absolutely everything I need to know about you, Ivar."

 Releasing a shaky breath, Ivar had shook his head. "No, you don't. You wouldn't have agreed to meet me again if you did. You wouldn't have agreed if you knew that I'm a cr—" Shushing him, one finger on his lips, one hand on his chin, you had forced him to look at you. "Ivar, I know your legs don't work. I knew all along. I knew when I sat next to you." He was bewildered and speechless. Shrugging, you had explained. "I don't care if you can't walk, Ivar, it doesn't matter. What matters though, it's what's there,” your hand had briefly grazed his chest, you had pointed at his heart, "and there,”  your index finger had  brushed his forehead as you had smiled once again. "So yes, I definitely want to meet you tomorrow." And then, your lips had audaciously found his, leaving him astounded.  

 You were already utterly in love. And so was he. That night, you spoke with your heart and Ivar believed you. And more importantly, from that night on, he trusted you, allowing himself to be soft and caring when it was just the two of you.  

  Abandoned to your memories, you sigh lovingly. Gods, this man is your everything and you love being the one with whom he's his true self. You know him like no one else does. And you see him for who he is. Not a king, not a cripple. Just a man; your man. Often stubborn, sometimes hot-tempered but always and unwaveringly loving. 

 Since you are with child, Ivar takes even greater care of you, his unexpected yet unfailing patience both surprizing and delighting you. Whether you're screaming, crying or sulking, he's always there, smiling, cheering you up, whatever the time of day or night. And no matter what you ask, he's always trying to meet all your needs, making a point of doing everything on his own. 

 Every night, since your first cravings many months ago, he brings you something to eat.

 Every day, he massages your tense shoulders and your aching back, and then rubs your swollen legs. 

 At all times, he wordlessly endures your mood swings and tantrums. 

 Every morning, he helps you get dressed before braiding your hair while whispering words of love for only you to hear. 

 And every day, you feel guilty.

 Since you're pregnant, you're not yourself. Most of the time you can't help it, but sometimes you realize what you're doing and blame yourself for treating your husband so poorly. 

 "Min elskede!" His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. 

 Pushing a heavy wooden tray in front of him, Ivar carefully crawls his way back.  From where you are, you can see on the tray two bowls and one plate, all full of delicacies. 

 When he's close enough, Ivar hands you the tray before pulling himself up on the bed, taking a seat right next to you. Helping you sit up, he places a large cushion behind your back, his knuckles grazing your cheek while his lips briefly find yours. 

 Looking down, you stare in wonder at what Ivar brought you. Once again, he thought of everything: various dried meats, goat cheese, those blueberries you love so much and those pickled herrings you usually hate but are mad about since you are with child. 

 Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you let out an embarrassed laugh. "Ivar, I don't deserve this…" Blinking a few times, you grab his hand. "I don't deserve you."

 He shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "Min elskede, you made me a man, then a husband." He tenderly puts his free hand on your huge belly. "And soon, I'll become a father. It's more than I could have hoped for. Of course you deserve this. You deserve even more than this." Before you can say anything, Ivar pops a blueberry in your mouth. 

 Patiently waiting for you to finish eating, Ivar keeps a soothing hand over your shoulders, absentmindedly massaging them while pecking you on the cheek. As soon as you finish, he puts the tray on the nightstand, nodding appreciatively as he sees the cleared plates. 

 "Min elskede, it's far from dawn, you should try to get back to sleep." You nod getting lost in a yawn and lay down, rolling on your side with effort. Ivar lays down as well, facing you, his right hand brushing your belly.  

 "I love you, Ivar, I love you so much. You're a wonderful husband and you're going to be an amazing father." Sighing, you close your eyes for an instant. "You'll be a much better father than yours or mine ever was." Your voice is shaky and you can see uncertainty on Ivar's face.

 "I'll try, Y/N, I'll try really hard. I can promise that I'll do my best." His breath hitches as he grabs your hand, squeezing it. "But tell me… Tell me again…" He stops, eyes clearly watering. Swallowing, he winces before taking a deep breath. "Tell me… What are we going to do if the baby is… like me?"

 That's his greatest fear. You know your husband is terrified. The thought of him passing his condition – his curse, as he says – on to your kid gives him nightmares. Since you have been with child, he's done everything he can not to bother you with it. Yet, the closer it gets, the less he manages to hide his worries.

 A hand on his cheek, you give him a reassuring smile. "If the baby is like you, my king, we'll love them just as much. We'll be there for them at every step, and you can teach them everything you had to find out on your own. If the baby is like you, it will be their strength and we'll help them to make the most of it. And I promise you, Ivar, growing up, this child will have everything you didn’t." Eyes bathed in tears, Ivar sniffles as you grasp his hand, firmly putting it back on your belly. "However, because of those vigorous kicks…,” Ivar almost jumps, wide-eyed, as he feels something hitting his hand and you stifle a laugh, "… I strongly believe their legs will be perfectly healthy."

 Closing his eyes, Ivar enjoys feeling the blows against his palm, but frowns as you hiss in pain, one of them reaching your ribcage. 

 Sitting upright and adjusting his legs, he takes the fur off, tossing it to the side before pushing your nightgown up. He gently presses his hand on your belly, his fingers freely running over your skin, before lowering his head. "Min skat, I know you can't wait to see the world, and the truth is, I can't wait to meet you. But for now, please, let your beautiful mother sleep." Whether it's Ivar's voice, or his touch, it works and you can feel your baby calm down. Ivar inhales deeply. "My father once told me that happiness was nothing. He couldn't be more wrong. Your mother made me a happy man, which I thought was impossible. She and I, together, will teach you love and happiness…"

 As you struggle to hold back your tears, Ivar peppers light kisses all over your belly. "Go to sleep, baby…" He whispers… "Sleep, min skat."

 🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @gearhead66 @readsalot73 @maggiescarborough @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @milkkygirls @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @shannygoatgruff​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @didiintheblog​ @zuxiezendler​

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar fanfic #ivar fic #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar vikings #vikings #vikings imagine #vikings ivar #sydney's birthday #sophie's birthday #gearhead66 #maggiescarborough #Happy Birthday

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Thirteen: By a Thread

I know how much some of you love the original games, so I hope you enjoyed this one too :) 

If you’re new here, hello - this is a Chishiya x OC/reader fic. You can find the full fanfic, including this chapter on AO3 here.  

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

Like always, the hotel lobby was crammed with people. I kept my head low as I moved quietly through the crowds, hoping to avoid the gaze of the militants dotted around. The last thing I wanted was to draw the attention of Niragi and his troupe. When I finally took my slip of paper, I went to stand by a corner before opening it.

Group four.                             

‘Looks like we’re together.’ An arm wrapped around my shoulder and Kuina appeared beside me. ‘It must be luck.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ I said. ‘We could end up with a Hearts game.’ Unconsciously, my eyes roamed the lobby for any sign of white.

‘Yeah, we could. But there’s only a one in four chance of that.’ She leaned in close, and I could practically hear the grin in her voice. ‘Speaking of hearts, he’s not in our group.’

I tensed, causing Kuina to giggle. She must’ve noticed me looking for him, but she’d gotten the wrong idea completely.

‘It’s not what you think,’ I told her, embarrassed. ‘He left some things in my room, kind of like a peace offering. I just wanted to thank him… and maybe apologise for being a brat and refusing to speak to him.’

I hid beneath my hood as Kuina began to slowly steer me through the crowded room. There were several of Niragi’s thugs standing around in their groups, but I hadn’t seen Niragi himself yet.  

‘You can thank him after we win our game,’ Kuina said as we walked outside. Then in a low mutter, she added, ‘you werebeing a brat though.’

‘Hey, that’s not fair,’ I laughed. ‘He was in the wrong too, you know.’

Although I held onto moments like this, there was no covering up the anxiety I felt deep inside. It was an unfamiliar worry, one that had appeared only recently, having crept up on me when I was least expecting it. And Chishiya was at its core. I was wavering between wishing he were in our group, and the relief that he wasn’t. I was glad that he was somewhere else, just in case we actually did run into a Hearts game. But at the same time, I wanted him by my side just to know that he was okay, that he was alive. And the uncertainty would drive me mad.

But overlying all of this, I was terrified of the fact that I felt this way at all.

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

There were only five of us in our group, so the car ride was more comfortable this time. Behind the wheel was an intense woman in her thirties who kept chewing at her lip. In stark contrast, a young woman with long hair tied in a pale pink scrunchie was sitting in the front passenger seat. She was biting her nails nervously, the clipped sound overwhelming in the quiet car. The final member of our group was a teenage boy. He seemed calm as he stared out the window, but the way he kept playing with the hem of his t-shirt betrayed his fear.

Kuina and I didn’t talk much, but there was comfort in our quietness. It was never said aloud, but we were both worried about what lay ahead. Even though I trusted in Kuina’s strength, and she probably trusted in my intelligence, there were some games designed to ensure only one person survived.

The car took us further into the city’s outskirts, and I began to wonder whether our driver actually knew where she was going. A glance into the front revealed that she had a piece of paper with directions resting on the dashboard.

Eventually, the car pulled up outside a set of gateposts leading into to a suburban park. I mentally groaned at the sight.

Not another park.

Unlike Shinjuku Gyoen, this was smaller, with trees lining the edges and flat fields designed for football games. As I got out of the car, I could see the usual white sign pasted to a brick gatepost.

GAME – こちらです.

I spared a glance at Kuina, but her eyes were set ahead, and her jaw was tight with determination.

I wish I had her confidence.

There was no bleep as the five of us walked through the gateposts. That could only mean the park itself wasn’t the game arena.

But it soon became clear what was.

In the centre of the fields, a large circus tent – a big top – glowed red from within like a giant pinstripe cloud. Spotlights illuminated the space outside, staining the grass with splotches of primary colours. But there was something jarring about this circus, something subtly off. There was no music. There was total, deadening silence as we approached the tent entrance.

‘Do you think this is it?’ the woman with the pink scrunchie asked, biting her fingernail.

Our driver scoffed, pursing her lips. ‘What else would it be?’ Then she headed inside, followed by Pink Scrunchie and the teenage boy.

Kuina smiled reassuringly at me. ‘Let’s go.’

With a nod, I ducked into the tent, Kuina following close behind.

Inside, it was immense. The entrance led out onto a walkway between tall rows upon rows of empty seats. The tent ceiling stretched high above us like a shining red and white toothpaste sky. In the middle, on either side of the circus ring were two tall platforms, the space in the middle blocked from view by a strong steel fence.

Kuina and I found the others stood at the bottom of one of the tall platforms, where a pile of phones was set out on a white table. We both took a phone and held it to our faces.

‘FACE REGISTRATION IN PROCESS.

PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE.’

Now that I was at the base of the first platform, it seemed insanely tall. And if the rope ladder attached to the side was any indicator, we were going to be expected to climb to the top.

The teenage boy was looking anxiously at the steel fence obscuring the middle of the circus ring. ‘What do you think’s in there?’

Probably acid, or something equally deadly.

Our driver dismissed it with a shrug. ‘Guess we’ll just have to find out.’

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

As always, I listened closely. I could only hope it wasn’t a Spades game. My arm was still wrapped in bandages, and while it was certainly healing well, I didn’t want to set it back yet again.

‘GAME – TIGHTROPE

DIFFICULTY – FOUR OF CLUBS

TIME LIMIT – 20 MINUTES.’

A tightrope?

I craned my neck, squinting up at the space above. Sure enough, a metal wire glinted, taut between the two platforms. It was so thin that I hadn’t even noticed it until now.

‘RULES –

PLAYERS MUST CROSS THE TIGHTROPE AND REACH THE OTHER SIDE.

ONCE ON THE PLATFORM, PLAYERS CANNOT LEAVE IT WITHOUT CROSSING THE TIGHTROPE.

THE GAME WILL COMMENCE IN TWO MINUTES.’

Clutching the phone, I felt some relief. It was a Clubs game, the best out of the lot. It meant there was likely a chance we could all survive.

‘So, what do we do?’ Pink Scrunchie asked, eying the rope ladder leading to the top. ‘Do we climb up?’

The driver huffed. ‘Do whatever you want—’

‘No,’ I interjected. The timing… it was just like the Tag game. ‘Not just yet. There’s a reason we’ve been given two minutes before the game starts. There must be something around here to help us cross it.’

Everyone looked at me, confused, before I realised I’d spoken in English. Luckily, Kuina came to my aid and translated as best she could.

The driver raised a brow. ‘And why would they bother doing that? The game-makers don’t exactly want to help us.’

I thought back to the Eight of Hearts, the teenage girl, the businessman’s body, his vest glowing yellow. ‘Because there’s always a solution, otherwise it’s not a game.’

Kuina adjusted her quit-smoking aide and nodded at me. Leaving the others at the base of the platform, we both jogged around the tent, checking between the seats and behind curtains to find anything that might help us. If this was a circus, that meant there had to be equipment. At first, it seemed like we were the only ones searching, until the teenage boy called out from the backstage area.

‘Hey, there’s some stuff over here!’

Running over, we ducked beneath some curtains into a backstage area before we found the boy, the driver and Pink Scrunchie all stood looking at a large storage unit filled with circus tools. Some of it, like the tricycles and spinning plates, was useless to us, but there had to be something in here.

‘GAME START.’

‘The hell?’ Kuina grumbled. ‘How has it already been two minutes?’  

I began scrabbling through the pile, brushing aside a set of juggling clubs. ‘皆んな、何かを取る.’ Everyone, take something.

Truth be told, there wasn’t much that was useful, and some of it couldn’t be carried up a rope ladder. But in the end, I chose a set of vibrant purple aerial silks. Beside me, Kuina was holding a bungee cord, the teenage boy had a large hoop, Pink Scrunchie had taken a diabolo, and the driver was gripping a long pole.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, leading us back to the performance hall and the ring.

One by one, we each climbed the rope ladder leading up to the top of the platform. I put my phone between my teeth and draped the aerial silks over my shoulder before following Kuina up to the top, and once I finally clambered over the edge and stood up, the ladder dropped away.

Now, it was just us and the tightrope.

‘Guys…’

It was the teenage boy. He was peering over the edge into the center of ring below, the space obscured by the fence. I took a step forward and looked down. It was a pit, the edges raised before dipping again. It was brimming with murky brown-green water, like a neglected algal pond, except it was much, much more than that. Raised brown bumps poked through the surface like tiny islands, occasionally sliding and shifting as ripples tore through our reflections.

Crocodiles.

‘15 MINUTES REMAINING.’

‘There’s no time to waste standing around,’ the driver said. She pointed at Pink Scrunchie. ‘You were first up here, so you should go first.’

Pink Scrunchie flinched, her fingers tightening around the diabolo. I felt myself growing more and more irritated with the driver. From the moment we arrived she had been completely unhelpful, trying to boss everyone around when she had no idea what she was doing. It was really starting to tick me off, and from the looks of it, I wasn’t the only one. I opened my mouth to object, but Kuina beat me to it.

‘Oi! You don’t have any right to decide who goes first,’ she snapped. ‘If anyone goes first it should be you.’

Although meant well, it wasn’t a good idea to pick a fight now.

Really not helpful, Kuina.

‘Look,’ I began, but Pink Scrunchie cut me off.

‘It’s okay,’ she said nervously. ‘I’ll go first. I’ll do it.’

I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to, but for some reason I couldn’t. One of us would have to go eventually anyway. Guilt stirred within me as she approached the edge of the platform, and even though I would never admit it, I was glad that I didn’t have to go first.

She crouched down and wrapped the strings around the diabolo, pulling it firmly so that the hourglass shape remained slotted around the wire as she pulled on the strings. I heard her take a deep breath as she put one foot on the tightrope.

The crocodiles stirred below.

Pulling the strings tight, she stepped fully onto the wire. Her body swayed, and she yanked harder on the diabolo, using its shape and the tension of the strings to balance herself.

As I watched, it became obvious that it wasn’t going to work. The diabolo couldn’t move unless she walked backwards and pulled it. But it was too late, it was much too late because when she took another step, the diabolo slipped.

As did her balance.

There was a shriek and a zip of metal as her body teetered off the edge. She hit the water with a loud clap, and the tent revibrated with her screams as the crocodiles sprung, slithering over each other until the screams stopped.

I closed my eyes, only to see the bodies of the two men from the Rummy game… the old woman crying as the collar ticked down… the businessman’s starched white collar. I opened them again.  

‘That was your fault.’ The teenage boy was visibly scared, his hands shaking. However, his eyes were filled with pure anger and they were focused purely on the driver.

‘Maybe,’ the driver said. ‘But one of us had to go first.’

Kuina rounded up on her. ‘One of us has to go next, too, and it’s going to be you.’

‘Don’t,’ I muttered to Kuina. ‘そんな価値はない.’ It’s not worth it.

She looked at me with sadness and fury. ‘Why not? She practically killed that girl.’

I couldn’t deny this, and part of me did want the driver to go next just so she could experience the same thing that she had put the other girl through. But arguing like this would only get us all killed.  

‘TEN MINUTES REMAINING.’

‘Actually, you know what,’ the driver said, ‘I’m not going to waste my time arguing with you. I will go next.’

The three of us stood back as the driver took off her shoes and stood up straight. She turned the pole horizontally and adjusted it between her hands until the weight was evenly distributed on both sides.

A balancing pole.

I almost wished I had thought of it, but then again, I didn’t trust my balance. Not with my life.

The driver stepped out onto the tightrope. She moved steadily, taking time to feel and test the wire beneath her feet. To my surprise, she was doing well, and she was now nearing the middle of the wire – the part where it was just ever so slightly more flexible. For a split second, I was rooting for her. I wanted her to succeed so we could all try it.

Then she took another step, and perhaps the rotation of her foot was slightly off, or maybe she hadn’t taken into account the flexibility in the middle.

Either way, the result was the same. Her body tilted, and the driver was whipped away, plunging into the pit below.

There was a rush of water and hisses as the crocodiles feasted.

I gulped, unable to bring myself to look down. ‘Kuina, what do we do?’

Her jaw clenched around the quit-smoking aide. ‘I’m not sure. Give me a minute.’

‘I’m not sure we have one,’ the teenage boy said, holding out his phone.

Only seven minutes left.

I glanced between the apparatus that we had left. A hoop… aerial silks… and a bungee cord.

Think, think, think…

My mind ran back over the rules. There might have been a clue somewhere in the wording. We had to cross the tightrope, and we were allowed equipment – that meant… it meant….

‘We don’t have to walk across it,’ I said.

Kuina blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean we don’t have to walk across it. The rules just said we had to cross it. We could slide instead. If we tie ourselves to the wire for security, we could slide to the other side. Or maybe we could even crawl upside down, if that makes sense?’

Kuina mulled this over. ‘I get you. There’s a name for that, it’s called a monkey crawl.’

I stared at our collective equipment, before bending down over the edge to test the tension of the wire. It was thin, but with its metal casing, it was strong enough to hold us up. I gestured bungee cord. ‘You could tie yourself to it with that. I’ve got my silks.’

The teenage boy let out a sob. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve only got a hoop. I’m an idiot, I didn’t think.’

Kuina put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t cry,’ she said. ‘Here, you can use the bungee cord.’ Turning to me, she nodded at the silks in my hand. ‘Can you rip that in half?’

‘Of course.’ I got to work, using my teeth and hands to tear at the elasticated silks until the fabric ripped in two. ‘Who’s going first?’

Kuina stepped forward and took the quit-smoking aid out of her mouth, throwing it away. ‘I’ll do it.’

I gave her the split piece of silk. She placed her phone between her teeth and got to the floor, dangling her legs off the edge of the platform. I wanted to tell her to be careful, but hesitated. A distraction could cost her life.

Gently easing herself down, she steadied herself with one hand as she leaned forward. Then with the other, she slid the silk around her torso and tied it in a messy knot. It was loose enough that she could still move freely, but if she let go, it would hold her weight long enough for her to grab the wire again.

She swung her body around until she was hanging upside down, suspended by her ankles and hands. And with a wink in my direction, she began crawling across the wire.

She was fast. Faster than I’d ever be. But it worked, and before I knew it, she had reached the other side. I watched as she untied herself and climbed onto the other platform.

‘FIVE MINUTES REMAINING.’

I looked at the teenage boy in silent question.

‘You go first,’ he said. ‘I’m still a little nervous.’

I nodded, trying to smile reassuringly. ‘Okay.’

Following Kuina’s lead, I placed my phone in my mouth and slid onto the wire, using one hand to tie a knot around the wire and my torso. Adrenaline shot through me as I swung upside down. And wrapping my fingers and ankles around the wire, I crawled.

Just breathe and focus on the ceiling.

When the wire became slightly lax beneath my fingers, I knew that I was halfway there. Below me, I heard a splash and a hiss. My hands stilled. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I turned my head, looking down to the pit.

It was a mistake. It was a huge mistake. The water was red, their teeth were red. There was a stained red scrunchie floating on the surface.

I felt sick.

‘Stop staring and get the hell over here!’ Kuina’s voice sounded from the other side.

I snapped my head back, blinking away the image of the pit.

‘Don’t you want to thank Chishiya?’

I do. The taser and the note flashed through my mind. I really do.

Taking a deep breath, I crawled fast, faster than I thought I ever could. That was, until my head hit the platform on the other side.

‘Idiot,’ Kuina said, helping me upright. I untied myself from the wire and scrabbled onto the platform with shaking limbs. I did it. I was safe.

‘TWO MINUTES REMAINING.’

But he wasn’t.

Back on the other side, the teenage boy was doing the same thing as Kuina and I. His hands quivered as he struggled to tie the bungee cord around himself. Eventually he managed to use the hooks on the end to haphazardly secure it in place.

Then he began to crawl, just like we did, except slower. Because his legs and hands were trembling, he was having a hard time hooking his ankles over the wire.

‘You can do it!’ Kuina shouted. ‘You’re almost halfway!’

He slowly approached the middle. Tears slipped down his cheeks, dripping to the pit below.

‘ONE MINUTE REMAINING.’

The boy gasped and hooked a leg around the wire, just as his bungee cord came loose. He cried out, fists clenching white around the wire as he relied solely on his hands and ankles to support his weight.

The bungee cord hit the water with a snarl and a snap of teeth.

‘大丈夫,’ I called out. ‘遠くないよ.’ It’s okay, you’re not far.

He’s not listening, I thought, as I watched his face contort in fear. He’s too terrified.

‘30 SECONDS REMAINING.’

It was the wake-up call he needed, and that little chime shocked him into action as he continued clambering along the tightrope. His movements were even slower now that he didn’t have the bungee cord to support him, and he was crying harder. The sound echoed through the tent, causing the crocodiles to hiss.

‘20 SECONDS REMAINING.’

My fingers clenched and unclenched. He was almost there; he was almost safe. I held my breath. I didn’t want to see any more people die like this.

‘You’re going to be fine,’ Kuina called out. ‘You’re so close now.’

‘TEN SECONDS REMAINING.’

He was close, nearly enough to touch. I reached out a hand and Kuina did the same.

‘FIVE…’

He’s not going to make it.

My fingers brushed his t-shirt.

‘FOUR…’

We both grasped his shirt, trying to pull him upright over the wire.

‘THREE...’

He gritted his teeth, his lip dribbling with blood from where he’d bit it.

‘TWO...’

He dragged himself up, hands splayed on the edge of the platform. I pulled.

‘ONE...’

The wire fell away from the platform. There was a yelp as his fingers slipped off the edge. For the tiniest second his eyes met mine, innocent and wide with realisation.

‘NO!’

I grabbed his outstretched hand, feeling the weight of him pull me forward. Behind me, Kuina shouted my name. Her arms came to wrap around my waist, anchoring me to the platform.

The boy grasped my hand with both of his, and I pulled. I pulled as hard as I could, even as my shoulder felt like it was being yanked from its socket and the skin of my palms burned with the friction.

Kuina’s arms were like weights, dragging me back and giving me the leverage I needed to tug the boy up to the edge. He released one hand from mine and gripped the platform. Then Kuina extended hers, and together, we hauled him up to safety. We collapsed onto our backs, panting with the exertion.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

#alice in borderland #aib #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

[itseivwhore]

Hey can you do something short about ezio and jacob with a sick reader, I have the cold and it's so overwhelming and painful, and I can't help the sore throat

Heyo there anonimo,thank you a lot for requesting this,it's something that I have never written before,so now the time has come! I am glad you sent me this little request just now,for I am having a pretty much rough time lately,so writing this managed to distract me,someway,even if a little...

I started to write this as soon as I saw your request in my inbox,I didn't want to make a reader of mine wait for so long (because 1) you are sick,and I HATE having a sore throat; and 2) I said 'so long' because I take a lot of time in writing my one shots). I hope you will feel better soon!Just stay at home,rest,sleep,all comfy in your warm bed between fluffly blankets aaanddd...read this ;)

So,starting with this little note: I didn't and I don't actually understand what you truly meant with 'something short' ...a mini one shot with BOTH Ezio and Jacob in it?Two separated imagines,each one with Ezio and Jacob?

I don't know,but I have decided,since I have never done this before,to go for modern heacanons (pretty long ones too,so am I forgiven?). I am so sorry if,maybe,I misunderstood you and if you wanted just a whole imagine,or two different ones. Just let me know once you'll read this?Mh?

Now,let's start,shall we?

~~~~~

|°Ezio°| :

"Dolcezza?Are you alright,amore?"

When you returned from a long,tiring,to say the least endless day at work,the first thing you did was to collapse on the sofa,sighing heavily and deeply as you closed your heavy eyes,your head spinning as you tried to melt in with the softness of the sofa.

As soon as you entered the house,you heard a muffled,sweet sound coming from the kitchen,not far from the living room where you had let yourself go;managing to smile slightly when you recognized the familiar voice of Ezio who,while cooking,was busy humming an Italian song you grew accustomed to know,to learn and to sing with him.

But he stopped humming cheerfully when, hearing the sound of the keys in the lock and the loud noise of the door being locked, he did not see you coming.

Usually,every evening and every time you finished your shift at work,once at home,the first thing you did was to run into the arms of Ezio,who constantly and faithfully waited for you to come back:finding him sitting on the sofor preparing dinner,or doing some chores around the house,knowing that you would come back tired after a long day at work...but always happy to find him here,promptly with open arms and with that bright and joyful smile,to hold you in a strong and long embrace and with sweet and passionate kisses,immediately followed by his genuine questions,purely interested in knowing how your day went.

So the guy became quite concerned when he didn't see you running towards of him as usual.And he worried even more when he didn't hear an answer from you,a thousand thoughts that suddenly flooded his mind.

As he left the kitchen,he quickly leaned on the door,softly called your name in a barely audible whisper.

His eyes grew dark with worry as they wandered around the big living room,finding your form lying,almost helpless,on the couch,not moving even a little.

No,you were not alright.

And Ezio understood that immediately.

Walking quickly in the living room,he sat next to your lying form,his eyebrow furrowed,a worried and thoughtful expression on his face when he heard you mumbling something under your breath,your voice being muffled by the couch.

He stretched out a hand,delicately turning your head to the side,rising up a corner of his mouth and giving you a small and sweet smile as he observed,and studied,your visibly tired and weak face,leaning down and pressing his lips on your forehead as he caressed your warm cheeks,you lazily leaning in his gentle touch.

Let's be honest:when Ezio understood that you were not just tired,but you were terribly sick,with a headache and most likely with a fever too,he started to panick a little.

The poor boy was not used to get sick,he rarely did,thanks to all that sun and warm days he grew up with in his homeland.He was not used,at all.

But he knew his things:many times his little brother,Petruccio,got sick,and many times he watched how their mother looked after him.

So,keeping his worry and panick within and for himself,not wanting to worsen the situation and not wanting to make you worried for him,he started to organize everything.

Preparing and fixing the kingsize bed you shared,delicately picking you up and bringing you in your bedroom,laying you on the bed,helping you changing your clothes,leaving chaste kisses all over your warm skin before covering you with layers of warm blankets,pillows all around you;a bottle of water on the nightstand and a glass there too.

Ezio was so devoted and focused,now even more than he already was:laying beside you on the bed,his chin resting on his palm as he gazed at you,softly talking with you,humming lowly,playing with your hair,reminding you how much he loved you,making you flattered,making you giggle amusedly too with his funny,dirty jokes.

"I can't wait to make you tired for another reason,tesoro"

Of course he was there all the time,rushing and running inside the bedroom from wherever he was whenever he heard you calling him,giving you everything you wanted and needed.

"Salute!" every time he heard you sneezing,shouting that loudly and hearing his voice from downstairs.

And,obviously,being the good chef he was,he didn't stop cooking,preparing you some of your favourite dishes,showing up in the bedroom with plates for lunch and hot drinks during the afternoon.

"Don't be uspetti,eat some spaghetti".

Tons and tons and millions of sweet Italian nicknames.

Him occasionally being dramatic,just to make you laugh,throwing himself on the bed beside you as he started to speak and to gesture in a very theatrical way,pretending to be sick too.

Malicious smirks and sly winks when,once you started to feel a bit better and when you were able to leave the bed,he found you standing near his drawer.

His shiny,clearly excited brown eyes wandering all over your body,that smirk only growing more as he saw you wearing one of his t-shirt,obviously way bigger than you,knowing how much you adored wearing them,feeling his perfume on you.

"Stealing my shirts again,I see" seeing Ezio giving you one last grin before walking away.

"Where are you going?"

"You know I can't control myself when I see you wearing my clothes,vita mia!" he shouted,going downstairs.

You were eternally grateful to have Ezio always at your side,helping you to rest and recover,making you smile when you last feel like laughing,making you feel extremely loved,making you feel special and making you feel better for the way he was looking after you.

"Anything for la luce della mia vita"

~~~~~

|°Jacob°| :

"Tea"

That was the first thing that Jacob said when you told him you were sick...not that he didn't already know,anyways.

The younger twin could seem distracted and nonchalant,but underneath all that thick layer of sarcasm and cheeky smiles,his observer side was hidden.

And Jacob watched you,more than he could ever admit;not that you didn't like this,but quite the opposite:you loved as his hazel eyes always watched and observed you in that warm way,you loved as he remembered the smallest details of you,you loved and admired him with all of yourself,because he was the only person in the world who knew you so well.

And the younger Frye also watched you closely,and more importantly,when one weekend evening,while waiting for you to come back from work,he saw you running towards his car,rushing in,soaking wet,head to toe,trembling violently.

Oh,the infamous downpour of the UK!

Jacob knew well,way too well how lethal the violent,sudden winter downpours were.Who knows for how many times he had or stayed at home when he was a child,whole days spent out in his garden in the rain,serious consequence of him getting a rough cold and a high fever.

As soon as you started having the first symptoms of what was preparing to be a severe cold,Jacob didn't waste any time.

Needless to say that,all your protests and all your futile attempts to convince him that you were fine,were not exactly taken into account by him.

Perhaps you were stubborn,not wanting him to worry any more...

But no one could be more stubborn than Jacob Frye himself was.

"You aren't going to win,love.Not with me"

He preferred you staying in the livingroom more than in the bedroom,saying that it was easier for him and that he didn't had to run up and down when he could have you right there,him at your disposal,and you under his attentive gaze.

A lot of pillows and blankets around and on you as you comfortably laid down on the sofa as you took naps there,or as you watched the TV,lights switched off as he lit up some candles all around the living room,making just a relaxed and soft atmosphere.

A lot of pillows.He nearly built a pillow fort.

The younger twin always was there when you needed or called him,finding him standing in front of you in a blink of an eye.

"Your humble servant is here,Miss,to fulfill his duties" saying that in such a solemn way,bowing down and bringing his hand towards his heart as his eyes shone brightly in hearing you giggle.

"Tea cure and heal everything,remember this,darling" that's what Jacob kept on saying every day,almost every hour with a firm tone,it becoming his loyal and faithful motto.

So you bet that Jacob always made sure you had a cup of hot,warm tea between your hands,warming you inside and out.

"Headache?Tea.Insomnia?Tea.Sorethroat?Tea.Stressed?Tea!"

Tea was the answer,and of course the solution,of and for everything.Everything seemed to revolve around tea for that guy,and he had a couple of reasons to defend his thoughts on the subject.

"Earl Grey tea?Or English Breakfast tea?" the choices were infinite,innumerable,intermimable,for you were pretty sure he had all kinds of tea in some specific and hidden drawers of the kitchen.

And oh God,the tea he prepared was something divine,to say at least.Starting to think that,most likely,he was right with all the long speech about his tea being the cure of everything.

If Jacob was good at something,more than anything else,was preparing tea.

You madly loved to watch him preparing it:you sitting on the counter of the kitchen,a big blanket wrapped around your trembling body as your legs swinged forward and backward;adoring to see how focused and precise he was while making it,adoring to see how his brows furrowed in concentration.

But the thing you adored the most in that precise moments,was when he turned around to face you,giving you a big smile,walking towards you and wrapping his muscular arms around your middle,pulling you closer to himself,really and truly warming you so well,swinging you lazily;closing your eyes,a genuinely happy smile on your lips as you placed your head on his broad chest,his slow heartbeat calming you.

Obviously,his sarcastic and witty will was still there,accompanying him and his words every hour of the day.Cocky answers and sassy phrases filling his cheerful voice,not helping but feeling proud of himself when he managed to gift you of a laughter and of a smile,feeling incredibly glad in seeing you getting better day by day.

But that smug behaviour quickly faded away when Evie started to visit you,checking upon you,making sure that her twin brother was doing a good job.

His sister telling you some little,funny stories about a younger Jacob when he had colds,which,as you knew,was not rare.Making you laugh in a purely amused way in hearing how he behaved...

Not that he changed much anyways.

"He was so,so whiny"

"He WaS,sO,sO WhInY.Liar!"

But he didn't care about his pride and ego being a little hurt by all Evie's stories,as long as he heard your amused laugthers and your joyfull smile he loved to bits.

°*TrAnSlAtIoNs!*°

"Dolcezza"= literally:sweetness.Sweetheart;

"Amore" = love;

"Tesoro" = darling;

"Salute!" = bless you;

"Vita mia" = my life;

"La luce della mia vita" = the light of my life.

~~~~~

I know you asked for something short,and well,as you can clearly see this is everything but short.

Anyway,this apart,I hope you'll like it!Pleaseee let me know if you will,even sending me a private message...or not if you want to keep your persona as an anon!Just let me know,I am still a a bit afraid/insecure of what you wanted.An one-shot with both Ezio and Jacob in it?Two mini separated imagines? Guess we will never know.

Cia.

#thanks for the request! #ezio auditore #ezio auditore x reader #ezio auditore modern #ezio auditore imagine #jacob frye #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye modern #jacob frye imagine #assassin's creed #assassin's creed modern #ac modern #assassin's creed headcanons #my writing

[quicksilversquared]

Move to Safety

After Adrien just happens to spy Nooroo in his father's office, he's sent into an panic. His father is Hawkmoth, which means that Adrien is in serious danger.

Thankfully the Dupain-Chengs are more than willing to step up to the plate and lend a helping hand.

links in the reblog

Adrien didn't know what he was going to do. He paced, he grabbed at his hair, he made a couple stabs at making plans to run away but found big, gaping holes in his plans almost immediately when he actually managed to take a half-step back and look at them again.

His father was Hawkmoth, and Adrien Was Not Dealing.

"I can't sleep here, what if he finds out about me?" Adrien asked frantically for the twenty-fifth time, carding his fingers through his hair. "Or what if he already knows? What if he suspects something and decides to put up a camera on my window? What if-"

"Okay, first of all, I do check for things like cameras and hidden microphones all the time," Plagg said loudly, cutting through Adrien's panicked fog for the first time in- well, for the first time in however many minutes it had been that Adrien had been freaking out. "There aren't any over here or any even pointed in this direction, which is a bit odd considering how often you sneak out but maybe it's because people can't really sneak in this way. Second of all- can't you move out? You were planning on doing that when you went to university anyway, right?"

Adrien nodded, then shook his head. "I'm too young to move out yet, I still have a few months before I'll even be able to sign a lease. And if I move out right away- then he'll know that something is up. It's better not to arouse any suspicions, but I don't want to be close enough for him to get any suspicions about me."

"He's had years to get suspicious about you, though," Plagg countered. "It's not like you just started being Chat Noir."

"Yeah, well, I've had years to get suspicious about him, too, and look at where we are now!"

Plagg looked. His usually picture-perfect Chosen was a frazzled mess in the middle of his room, hair sticking up oddly from him pulling at it so much. He could see where Adrien had been pacing in the carpet, the little loops scuffed more than the ones around them. Scattered pages of notes from his half-baked plans covered the top of the desk, some things circled and others crossed out (and some circled and then crossed out).

It was a somewhat unsettling picture.

"Okay, so first of all, don't let on that anything is different," Plagg said, because apparently he had to be the cool-headed thinker between the two of them now. "If you do, your father will investigate. Second of all, you have locks on your doors, right? Lock them at night."

Adrien shook his head. "It won't make a difference. Father has the keys to all of the rooms. At best, I could set an alarm so that I would wake up if someone came in, but that would be hard to do without anyone noticing. What if I set it at night, had to go out for a morning akuma attack and forgot about it, and one of the maids tried to come in? Then the alarm would go off and Father would be so confused and annoyed and would investigate and-"

Plagg watched, unimpressed. "I think pigtails is wearing off on you with the over-the-top unrealistic panic scenarios."

"They aren't unrealistic! You've seen what Father is like. Paranoid and controlling and- he's a supervillain, Plagg, it's not unrealistic for him to notice something off in the room and wonder about it and then he would try to lock me down even more while he tries to figure out what's going on and why I have an alarm system set up on the interior doors of my room."

...his Chosen had a good point. So Plagg sighed, floated down to desk level, and actually gave it some more thought.

Tikki would be so proud of him right now.

"Okay, so you'll definitely have to tell Ladybug sooner rather than later," Plagg started, because while the discovery was earth-shattering for Adrien, he still had to think like a superhero. "And then, uh..."

Yeah, so maybe he was coming up a little blank.

"Yeah, that was about as far as I got, too," Adrien said moodily, flopping down in his desk chair and spinning around. "I mean, once I turn eighteen and can rent a place, I could just escape at night and run over there to sleep. As long as I set an alarm every night, I should be able to get back here before anyone notices that I'm gone. And I would only need to buy a mattress to keep over there, at least until I move out for good. And at least I can afford it," he added. "All of the money from my modeling and commercials and all the other stuff that I've done- that's in my account, and no one can take it from me. I made sure that the account was entirely in my name last year, when I started thinking about moving out. Neither Father nor Nathalie can touch the money in there, I made sure of that."

That still left several months between now and then which- well, again, not ideal. Maybe they would defeat his father before then, since they knew where to find him now, but if they didn't...

"Lots of sleepovers with friends, maybe?" Plagg suggested weakly. Adrien laughed, then sighed.

"Yeah, I wish. I think Nino might start to wonder if I showed up at his house every night for three and a half months, though. And his parents might call Father, and I don't want that." Adrien slumped in his chair again, then straightened with a yelp when he caught sight of the time. "Oh! Crud, I'm meant to be going over to Marinette's house today so we can all hang out today. I don't want to be late for that. C'mon, Plagg, let's go!"

  Adrien was undeniably, irrefutably, most definitely feeling off. And it was showing. He had lost the last three games of Mecha Strike to Nino, of all people- and he had lost badly. Thankfully his friends seemed willing enough to write it off to exhaustion from too many photoshoots instead of interrogating him on his distraction, and so Adrien got off scot-free.

That wasn't good if he was so obviously distracted, though. Nathalie would see through his squirrely behavior in an instant. She knew that he didn't have an overly loaded schedule- well, no more loaded than it usually was, at least- and she would be more likely to ask question.

He wondered if she knew about his father. She had to, right? There was no way that she could miss it when she was working in the same room as him day in and day out-

-she was Mayura, wasn't she. The thought hit Adrien like a brick wall, and he swallowed hard, feeling a little ill. His father was his family and Nathalie had been like family and they were the supervillains terrorizing Paris, the ones that he had to fight against almost every other day.

He was going to be sick.

How Adrien made it through the rest of his get-together with his friends, he didn't know. It seemed like time flashed by in an instant and then Nino and Alya were leaving, headed out the door together arm-in-arm and without a care in the world. Adrien was about to follow them- now that he was nearly eighteen, he was actually allowed to walk between Marinette's house and his own instead of having the Gorilla drive him for the few short blocks- when a slender hand slid around his wrist, stopping him before he could get more than a couple steps. Confused, Adrien blinked and turned around to see Marinette staring up at him, concern written across her face.

"Something is bothering you, isn't it?" Marinette asked, tugging Adrien gently away from the door and letting it close. "You've been off the entire time that you've been here."

Adrien tried for a smile. "It's nothing, just photoshoots-"

"You haven't had a photoshoot in three days, and you were just fine after the last one," Marinette shot back, and belatedly Adrien remembered that oh, right, Marinette had an open invitation to all of his photoshoots and knew when they were. "And if you were tired, you would have passed out on the couch while we were playing games. Instead, you were almost fidgeting out of your skin. And you suddenly got more distracted partway through- you looked like you were about to be sick."

"Start-of-summer cold?" Adrien offered up weakly. Marinette looked even less convinced, brow furrowed with concern as she gazed up at him. All of a sudden, Adrien couldn't do it anymore.

"My father is Hawkmoth," Adrien confessed in a rush, practically collapsing in on himself. "I was passing by his office today and I saw him talking to Noor- to his kwami, and it was a butterfly, and then he pulled off his necktie and was rubbing this brooch underneath it and why would he hide any jewelry if it weren't the Miraculous? And Nathalie knows, she has to, she's in the same office all day and she has to be Mayura and I'm living in the same house as two supervillains and I can't move out for a year without them getting suspicious and what am I meant to do?"

Marinette looked rather as though she had been hit by a truck, she was so surprised. Adrien winced.

...he definitely could have broken the news better. Maybe she wouldn't want to be near him now, because it would be dangerous to be near the son of a supervillain even though he wasn't a supervillain, he was a superhero, and wasn't that ironic? He had to fight against his own father.

That was really, really messed up.

Marinette's expression shifted from startled to confused, and Adrien heard her mumble "But how does he know what-?" before her grip suddenly tightened around his wrist and she turned his hand, just enough to see his ring glinting in the sun. She let a tiny oh, and suddenly Adrien knew without question that somehow she had just figured out his secret identity.

A soft thud behind them caught Adrien's attention next, and both he and Marinette swung around in time to see Mr. Dupain startle, righting his tray before another loaf of bread could fall off. His gaze returned to Adrien as soon as he had ensured that all of the bread was safe, and- okay, apparently Marinette's dad had overheard him.

He hadn't planned on letting people know, let alone this many. Marinette's family was perfectly normal and completely functional and he shouldn't be burdening them with his family's problems. But now Mr. Dupain was setting down his tray to come over and wrap Adrien up in a hug, and when had Marinette started hugging him? Adrien couldn't help but stiffen up in surprise at first, before practically collapsing into the hug.

Adrien hadn't been hugged like this for so long. Two sets of arms wrapped around him, and Marinette's hands were rubbing up and down his back. It was absolute unquestioning acceptance, and Adrien couldn't even manage to be embarrassed about the tears that he could definitely feel starting to leak down his cheeks. Marinette's cheek was pressed against his, and she clearly had no reservations about holding him close.

"Does your father know that you found out about him?" Mr. Dupain asked, pulling back but only enough so that he could see Adrien. "Or doesn't he know?"

"He doesn't know," Adrien said at once. After all, he hadn't lingered much in the atrium once he saw the kwami- Nooroo, Plagg had called him- before making a hasty (and quiet) escape to his room. In fact, he wouldn't be 100% sure of what he had seen if it weren't for the fact that Plagg had seen it, too, and had even zipped back to try to eavesdrop for a bit. "I left right away, and he wasn't facing the door. But I just- I can't believe that I've been sleeping under the same roof as a supervillain. Two supervillains, if you count Nathalie."

"You don't feel safe sleeping there anymore, do you?" Mr. Dupain asked at once. He was frowning. "I know that I wouldn't."

Adrien nodded, burying his face in Marinette's hair and trying not to sound like he was about to cry. He was pretty certain that he wasn't succeeding. Also, he was definitely getting snot all over her hair, and he would have to apologize for that later. "Yeah. I was planning on moving out once I started university, and of course I can get an apartment once I reach my birthday and then just sneak out to sleep there, but I would have to wait for that."

"And it's very possible that your landlord would still reach out to your father," Mr. Dupain said, and Adrien's head flew up in alarm to stare at him in alarm. He had only done a little research on apartments, enough to figure out that he had to legally be an adult to rent without a guardian's signature, but he had a source of income and a savings account of his own and surely that would be enough, right?

Marinette was frowning, too. "But surely if he asked the landlord not to say anything, they wouldn't?"

Her dad shook his head. "Not necessarily. I assume that you would pick something small and relatively cheap, at least for the time being," he said to Adrien, and Adrien nodded in confirmation. He didn't want to spend too much money right away, after all. "Right. Some of those landlords- well, they're not the best, to say the least. They would know that you come from money and they might try to exploit that. It's not legal, and all you would have to do to get them to back off if they were trying to push for more than what's in the lease is report it, but if something like that happens or you forget to pay on time they might go to your father, and once is all you need for him to find out."

Adrien nodded, his heart sinking.

"And frankly- Adrien, you're still a teenager. You're still a kid. You shouldn't have to be spending your money on essentials yet, and I'm not comfortable with letting you do that." Mr. Dupain glanced towards the bakery, where Mrs. Cheng was still working the front counter. "I'd have to discuss it with Sabine, of course, but- Adrien, we do have a guest room that rarely ever gets used."

Adrien's jaw was practically on the floor at the implied offer as soon as it sunk in. "I- I mean, that would be- are you sure?"

Mr. Dupain smiled, clapping Adrien on the shoulder. "You're a kind young man, Adrien. If you don't feel safe at home, we'd be more than happy to help. I will have to tell Sabine about your father, though, to convince her that we're actually helping and not just trying to steal you away from your family. Not that she would be entirely opposed to that, of course."

If it would get him a place to stay at night, that was fine. He would just have to trust that the Dupain-Chengs wouldn't get akumatized before he and Ladybug could take Hawkmoth down. "Of course."

"Good, good." Mr. Dupain gave Adrien's shoulder a squeeze before stepping back and picking up his tray of bread again. "Why don't you two head back upstairs then? If you can stay for dinner, Adrien, then maybe we can discuss how this is all going to work out?"

Adrien nodded obediently, glancing back towards Marinette. He certainly wouldn't mind staying longer- the Dupain-Cheng home was so warm and friendly, so very unlike his own- and he also had a few things that he needed to discuss with Marinette. Namely, the fact that she had figured out that he was Chat Noir.

Somehow.

Adrien's mind was racing as he and Marinette headed back upstairs. He was trying to figure out where to start. Should he try to deny her discovery? Would she even believe him if he tried? Something told him no.

"We're going to have to figure out how to time things so that your father doesn't catch on," Marinette said as she ushered Adrien back upstairs towards their living room. She sent him a sharp look. "Though I suppose that you being able to just slip in and out from your window makes things easier."

...yeah, he wasn't even going to try to deny his secret identity. Marinette hadn't phrased it as a question. She knew.

Adrien sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Ladybug wasn't going to be happy about someone finding out his secret identity, but at least- well, at least they knew Hawkmoth's identity, too, so an end to this whole fight was in sight. Hopefully. "Yeah, it makes things a lot easier. But speaking of that..."

Marinette glanced up at him. "Yes?"

"We really need to talk."

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #Move to Safety #adrien agreste