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kuroyukihime · 3 years

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Bakugo x Reader: Choose Me [Pt. 1]

[LOTS OF ERROR; TO BE REVISED]

“HEADLINE: PRO HERO – DYNAMIGHT ANNOUNCES HIS MARRIAGE”

It was fucking news to everyone, heck even the No.1 Pro Hero busted through his office doors demanding an explanation. It was so out of the blue as the picture of him together with another girl at a restaurant, with him reaching out touching the woman’s cheek spread like wildfire all over the internet. No one knew he had been dating, no one even knew he was interested in others. Literally everyone thought… Bakugo Katsuki was after you. You who had been there for him since high school, never in his personal space but always was with him, never failing him and was always doing your best to be there for him whether he needed you or not. You always did your best not to let your feelings get known specifically to him, so when others noticed him warming up to you and then inviting you to his agency (which he was just planning on having and building) right after fucking graduation and then the event where the villain almost had you and he literally went full murder mode just to retrieve you, everyone thought for sure you guys were going to end up together. So—

“Kacchan!” Slamming his palm on Midoriya’s face, Bakugo gritted his teeth “You’re way too close, you damn nerd!”

“Bakugo-kun! What is this? Is this true?” Uraraka asked, showing him the article on her phone

“Ha? What part of it do you not understand, Round cheeks? It’s exactly what’s written there!” He growled

“But… Not even we know you were going out, you’re always at work!” Kirishima reasoned

“AH! SO ANNOYING! GET OUT OF MY CASE YOU IDIOTS! IT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT MEANS! NOW FUCK OFF!” He snapped, gritting his teeth in frustration

“Katsuki!” A voice called out to him from behind, everyone’s attention turned to you as you simply smiled, holding your phone close to your chest. The way you were gripping it tight didn’t go unnoticed by many, especially Bakugo

“Congratulations!” You grinned and Bakugo just stared at you for a second before scoffing and looking to the side

“Yeah… Whatever…”

The silence that followed was thick but no one knew what to say. Still true to your role however, you were still his sidekick, and his second in command of the agency. You still had work to do.

“Ah that’s right minna! It’s still noon, you shouldn’t be flooding here unless you have businesses to attend to! Back to your agencies you go!” You ushered them out

Please. No more gazes of pity. Please get out. Or else… I won’t make it through…

“(Name)-san…” Midoriya looked at you with concern in his eyes as you slowly closed the door of Bakugo’s office. Standing there in front of everyone, you took a deep breath and hardened your smile. You needed to make it. Just until the end of the day… please

“We can talk later… For now, you guys have work” You bid them all goodbye “I’ll see you later”

Without even giving them a chance to reply, you retreated back to Bakugo’s office, unintentionally slamming the door harder than expected

“Oi”

You visibly flinched when he called out to you. You really weren’t in the mood to talk to him, more or less stand to be in the same room as him. You could feel yourself starting to break little by little

“Whoops sorry, didn’t mean to slam that harder than intended. Oh by the way, you haven’t done your patrol yet, right?” You laughed, going over to your desk and rearranging the papers “I can take over the shift for you, I need some fresh air anyways” You said and by the time you finished talking you were already out the door

Bakugo glanced at the huge open windows lined up in his office room, literally placed right behind where his office desk stood parallel to

“Fresh air my ass” He grumbled

EARLIER THAT DAY…

“HA?! AIN’T NO WAY I’M DOING THAT SHIT! GO DIE!”

“B-but Dynamight! The aristocrat’s daughter is in danger! The only way we can catch the villain that has been stalking her is if we announce a public wedding!” The higher ups tried to reason with him

“THEN FIND ANOTHER RICH ASSHOLE FOR THIS SHIT OR BETTER YET SET CCTVs OR HERO AND BODYGUARDS ON STAND-BY TO GUARD THE BITCH! FUCKING THINK!”

“A-ah, we’ve already set those up, but we need a pro hero on her side since the initiation will surely happen at the wedding and the daughter specifically requested you to guard her!”

He honestly feels disgusted by that information

Keh! Bitch is a fan, fucking great

Then again, this was a huge group of villains they’re talking about. Sighing in annoyance, he eventually agreed. Now, how was he going to explain this—

“Ah by the way, Dynamight, you can’t speak a word about this to anyone. The villains have a member that can camouflage and has another that has intense hearing from miles away. Strictly not a word until the mission is done”

BACK TO PRESENT…

A ring coming from his phone brought him back to reality. He fished his phone out from his pocket and looked at who had texted him.

“Father said we should meet up at X Restaurant, see you there <3”

Staring at the door where he last saw your retreating figure, Bakugo took a deep breath and shouted in frustration

“FUCKING SHIT!”

At your part, jumping from roof to roof, you tried your best to do the patrol as diligent as possible. You needed to clear your mind as well. This ugly, painful feeling stirring up a storm inside of you made you clench your fist in frustration. It’s your fault for expecting so much, your fault for reading the signs wrong and it was your fault for loving a person who promised you nothing. Letting the tears finally drop, you silently cried at the rooftop alone. You had no idea how long you were crying however, even this time of wallowing wasn’t given to you by fate because after a few minutes, you heard distant crying and screams and as the sun was setting, you squinted your eyes, noticing something from the distance before the villain charged straight at you.

You seethed through the pain of your body hitting the floor of the rooftop with such force as the villain loomed down on you. Ah fuck, those were going to leave bruises. Summoning your weapon, you roughly grabbed the Villain’s foot and shoved him out of the way.

“I’m kinda in a bad mood… Sorry” You muttered, charging straight after the villain

As usual, the news were already on your tail. The villain provided quite a bit of a fight, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Plus, with the negative emotion fuelling you, it wasn’t long before the villain finally gave himself up in exchange for his life. When the news reporter asked for an interview, you simply turned and ignored them. You can’t have cameras up in your face this time, everyone will notice the puffy eyes. However, your cold actions startled everyone. You were known as the kind one between your duo, while the Pro Hero Dynamight was as brash as he can be, you were always the one the media counted to speak in his behalf. Always smilling, always having such a warm aura. The usual welcoming hero-type.

Returning back to the agency, you honestly didn’t even think about getting your wounds treated first. Honestly speaking, you didn’t even notice you had small wounds. Though they were only scratches, it still needed to be disinfected. It was only when Kirishima stated it with slight panic in his voice that you noticed.

“Ah! (Name)! Why didn’t you go to the hospital to get that treated?”

You smiled, as hard as it was, you tried your best “There’s really nothing to worry about, I can just treat this with First Aid”

You retreated to the locker rooms and got the first aid, silently mending your wounds alone until a loud knock came from outside

“Oi”

Taking a deep breath, you stood up, the bandage still wrapped loosely on your forearms and answered the door. Putting on another fake smile, you grinned

“Yo!”

“Don’t fucking Yo me, get out here, look how shitty those bandages are wrapped around you. You wanna get infected?” Bakugo nagged

“Ah! No it’s fine—“

His glares made you shut up and simply comply with his request. He dragged you towards inside the office and made you sit on his chair

“Wh—“

“Tch stop fucking complaining and seat, dammit”

The way he handled your wounds with utmost care, like you were such a fragile being, made you want to cry again. Soon, another woman will experience this. You weren’t special to him. Maybe you were, but not in the sense you wanted. Much like Kirishima and the others, you were simply a dear friend to him.

Just a friend

His phone suddenly started ringing, you wouldn’t notice it but Bakugo felt his blood turn cold. He knew exactly who was calling. He immediately snatched his phone before you could take a peek who the Caller ID was.

Sighing loudly, Bakugo answered the call

“What? I told you never to call me unless it’s an emergency, right?” He snarled

“You’re mean Katsuki-n, I’m already at the restaurant! Where are you?”

You dreaded to hear that overly sweet voice, it made you want to throw up, further more apparently Bakugo had a date, what the heck was he doing taking his time with you then? Slowly standing up from the office chair, Bakugo’s other hand slammed on the sidearm of it, trapping you. His glare was on-point again. You wondered what was he so pissed off about? Pouting slightly, you sunk back to the chair

“I’m still doing shit, who told you be there so damn early?! Also I told you not to call me by my first name! WE'RE NOT FUCKING CLOSE”

Your eyes widened a bit, a little bit of pride welling up inside you as you remembered how in their meet ups, Bakugo would always be there earlier than you and how he had no problem whatsoever when one day the way you called him suddenly changed from Bakugo to Katsuki

“Eh? More important than me?”

Unconsciously, Bakugo licked the upper part of his lips as his gaze went to you, staring at the reports on his desk completely unaware of his eyes. He smirked

“Damn right bitch, a lot more important than you”

Your eyes widened, eyes immediately meeting his. You were about to retort but his hands were quick on your mouth

“Anyways, I’ll fucking be there in an hour, don’t be fucking annoying”

With that, Bakugo hung up, not even waiting for the girl to reply. He removed his hand from your mouth.

“Don’t fucking talk, I’m gonna be found out”

You looked to the side, unable to meet his gaze, the blush spreading like wildfire on your face.

“You have no delicacy, Katsuki” You commented and Bakugo couldn’t help but chuckle

“What the heck did you expect from me?” He paused for a bit “Work comes first”

And just like that, your new budding hope was crushed. Of course… Even you were considered a load to him.

“There, done, next time I’m coming with you on patrols” He said, standing up and walking away from you, carrying the first aid with him “Go home”

You felt despair. This bitter feeling was becoming too much now. You stood up and hurried out, going straight for the locker room and changing out of your hero clothes. You wanted to go home as soon as you can. Everything was piling up and it was becoming too much for her to handle.

Next time I’m coming with you on patrols

You gritted your teeth. First the marriage, then he suddenly doubts your strength to do things alone. Slowly… everything you’d ever done to build a good relationship with Bakugo was slowly crumbling. Grabbing your bag, you ran out of the building, ignoring Kirishima, Sero and Kaminari’s shout of concern.

On the other locker room, Bakugo was cherishing the feel of your lips on his hand, bringing it close to his mouth, he tried to feel as much as he can from the past sensation. He heard the others calling out your name so he went outside to see what the commotion was, only to find the entrance door sliding to close

“What’re you idiots yelling at?”

“Ah, (Name) suddenly ran outside, she seemed like in a real hurry, I mean she didn’t even bid goodbye to us like she always does” Sero explained and Bakugo just stood there before staring at his hand and clenching it.

You didn’t even bother waiting for him like you always do

Hell finish this mission as fast as he can before he loses you.

At the train, on the walk home, you kept your head hung low until you’ve reached your apartment. Closing the door, your body slid down on the door as you finally, finally let everything out. So much had happened in one day that it was too much for you.

Bakugo Katsuki was going to get married… not to you

Another woman will be on the receiving end of his affections… not yo

He’s beginning to doubt your skills… that’s on you

You cried and cried, not caring about anything else in the world. You kept at it until your body gave up and eventually you fell asleep on the entrance. You had a short unpleasant dream however, it was a dream where Bakugo kept walking forward and no matter how much you ran, how much you yell out his name, he didn’t stop, he didn’t even look at you, it was like you weren’t even there, but when another woman was right behind you, unable to walk by herself, Bakugo turned around and past by you, carrying the girl in his arms, laughing and smiling without a care in the world as he left you behind once more.

You woke up from then on, feeling your entire body cold as a result of sleeping at the entrance. You didn’t bother standing up yet though. Your mind was too busy rethinking the dream. You clenched your hands near your chest and gritted your teeth as another wave of tears threatened to spill.

You’ve decided.

For the first time, you were going to kill these feelings and stand by his side as one of his best friends. You’ll take what you can. You’ll kill it over and over again, no matter how many times if it means you’ll be with him longer. It pains to admit it, but you feel like you can’t continue working under him if you let your one-sided feelings continue and you can’t have that. You can’t bear it, thinking of living a life without Bakugo in it, atleast as a friend and a sidekick, you will still be there at his side. You just need to be there by his side… Be satisfied with that…

“…Atleast… let me be selfish one last time… before I kill off this feelings” You muttered, feeling sleep overcome you

#bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha #bnha #dynamight #mutual pining #bakusquad and dekusquad are greatwingmans #misunderstandings #bakugo will not give you up #explosive boi

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elphiej · 3 years

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Be My Light - Chapter 4: The Mad Leader

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: References to violence, minor assault,

Author’s note: First off, I’d like to send a special Thank You to someone who was a huge inspiration to me and to this story. This is the chapter that really started it all and I was inspired by @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng ‘s mafia reaction series. She is a fantastic person and was one of the first people I showed this Be My Light to when I was too scared to post it. She is a beautiful soul and wonderful writer. Thank you for the push.

Another Big thanks to my editor for sticking with me all this time and into the future. And, of course, to all the people who are reading, commenting, and reblogging this. I can’t tell you all how much is means to me. Thank you all and I hope you enjoy this next installment of Be My Light. (P.S. I have a thing for RM in a long trench coat.)

Tag list: @lolalalooo @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine , @mrsfortune1306 , @lovesick-heart0 , @iamnamjoonsbxtch , @deathkat657 , @deeepvibes , @sugamonster22 , @weiinihao, @hemmofluke , @rainbow-zebra-unicorns , @joyfullyobsessed , @elvencantation ,

Chapter 4: The Mad Leader

You stared at the cell phone clutched in your hand, your mind spinning with so many questions. Who were those people? Why did talking to this ‘RM’ make you feel like something bad was coming? With that deep, serious tone, were they just as dangerous as the man with the cane? And what kind of normal person calls themselves ‘RM’? Agust was already on the edge of interesting and odd as it was. Scanning over the still lit screen, you wondered what other names were in the contact list. Other than ‘God of Destruction’, the last few calls you could see without going through the device belonged to ‘Mochi’, ‘My Favorite’, and ‘Worldwide Pain in my Ass’. Based on those names, you couldn’t begin to imagine who was gonna match those names.

It was safe to assume that this RM guy was concerned about the man in the suit trying to finish the job. The hospital had a good security team but you thought it best to talk to Doctor- Henry- to see if more could be done. Your hand paused as it went to put the cell phone back with Agust’s things; if RM or any of the odd named voices tried to contact you for an update, they would most likely call that, instead of trying to navigate the hospital switch board. Figuring it was the best option, you placed the phone safely in your scrub’s pocket as you moved to the bedside for one last check on the patient. Agust hadn’t moved again since right before the phone call and was still as could be. The monitors were all reading normally. There was a blood transfusion line in his arm to help replace what he had lost, along with another IV pushing fluids and medication. You adjusted his arm to make it more comfortable for him once he woke up.

“I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” you said as you fixed his blankets. “Please, try not to do anything until I get back.”

You slipped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind you. There was an anxious feeling that crept back into your gut, the same one you felt when you had first heard the gun shots ring out from the silence of the construction site. Your mind had so many thoughts and scenarios running through it that you felt overwhelmed. Things like, ‘what if the man with the cane and rough voice came here? Would he shoot his way through the floors until he found Agust? Were you really as safe as you hoped?’ The hospital had been under a few threats but nothing had ever come from those except words. It would be best to stay as cautious as possible. You had too many friends and patients to not take your feelings seriously.

As you made your way towards your station, you were surprised to see that Henry was already there leaning over the desk with the phone pressed up against his ear. He pulled a pad of paper from the other side of the desk and started scribbling something down as he nodded and spoke in a low tone to whomever was on the other end. That saves me from having to page him, you mused. Henry did a double take towards you when he noticed you out of the corner of his eye. He beaconed you over with an urgent wave of his hand. The calm yet awkward demeanor from earlier had been replaced with a more serious one. Once you were within an arm’s reach of him, he reassured whomever he was talking to that ‘everything will be taken care of’ and hung up.

“Good,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I need you to help me.”

“Henry, about that John Doe patient. I was able to talk to someone close to him. I think we may need to alert the security team about- “

“I’ve already talked to them. The hospital is going on alert for any suspicious activity entering the hospital. And we are actually moving the patient to one of the private units upstairs. I just got off the phone with the director and we’ve got everything worked out for you so you’ll be safe,” he said over his shoulder as he started walking down the hall.

“Wait, what does that mean? What do you mean by worked everything out?” You took extra long steps to keep up with his brisk pace.

“The same person who demanded higher security for that patient requested that you be kept with him as his private staff until otherwise. Which means you’ll be in the secure ward with him in case anything happens. It’s gonna be for the best. You were the first one with him and it’s gonna be more comfortable if he doesn’t have to get acclimated to someone else after all this. Don’t worry, we’ve got it worked out with Jax already.”

Henry led you back into Agust’s room and made fast work of disconnecting him from the machines that surrounded him. He pulled the IV bags down and placed them on the bed by the still form. Meanwhile, you were frozen at the end of the bed, feeling dizzy from how fast he seemed to expect you to understand what was happening. This wasn’t the first gang related case you had been assigned to since starting at Mercy, nor was it the first gunshot case; why did this sudden change to the routine make you feel ever more nervous? Never had you moved a patient into a secure wing designed from more severe or quarantined patients before just because someone had requested it. Henry called your name to shake you from your thoughts and motioned you to move to the side of the bed as he unlocked the wheels of the gurney and pushed the bed from the wall. As you helped guide it from the room, you couldn’t help but feel the tension grow.

“So, I am just supposed to stay locked up in some room like a prisoner? And be someone’s private nurse? What about the rest of my patients here? I can’t just leave Amber to tend to them all alone. We are short staffed as it is,” you mentioned as you navigated everyone into the elevator at the end of the hall.

Henry hit a button and the elevator started to move. He leaned close to look you in the face, his eyes filled with seriousness. “Listen, Y/N, I know this is strange but you just have to trust me. I don’t know all the details but someone particularly important has to be involved to make the director so quick to comply with whatever they asked. But no matter what, your safety is my priority, maybe a bit more than my patients. I’m sure the director thinks that too. Whoever it is must just want to make sure this guy has the best care possible. And when he gets here, he’ll probably want to hear from you what happened. And if whatever gang did this does try anything, I don’t want you to worry because no one is going to get to him or you. Only the director, you, and I will have access to this room or know where he is. Apparently, the man the director talked to said he would have a way to get a hold of you and prove his identity to gain access. I know how you are, Y/N, you are a great person. That’s why you’re so good at what you do. But don’t think that you are inconveniencing anyone; Jax has already rearranged everything and made some calls. I really need you to think about yourself now. And what is best is for you is to do what I am asking and not over think this right now.”

Henry was being so sincere that you couldn’t find the voice to make any arguments. You gave him a weak nod and tried to take what he said to heart. As Amber had pointed out before, one of your qualities was that you put others well before yourself. Hence, why you were in this predicament. As the doors opened onto the new floor, you promised him that you would try.

The door opened onto a floor where the more severe, long term patients were kept. This floor could, also, be used for quarantining or the more delicate of patients. At the moment, you knew it had only a few occupants: a coma patient, a patient suffering from extreme burns, and someone from the psych ward that needed more focused attention. To enter this ward, you needed a key card, making this more isolated than your full and frantic floor. Henry commented there was no record that Agust had been moved in any of the files. And if anyone tried to look him up, it would be like he never existed. The person who had called to make all this happen had said he’d contact you and that he and his colleagues were to say they were here to perform community service if asked by anyone else. Apparently, they deemed it as security protection. Henry had you swipe your ID to gain access to the floor and you made your way down the silent hall to the vacant room Henry had staked out for you to stay in. The room was bigger than the one you were used to on your floor. There was a small couch across from where the bed was to go, a private bath off near the entrance, and even a TV in the corner. There was, also, a small recliner near where the head of the gurney was to rest. You imagined you’d be there most of the time. Henry helped you set everything back up in the room and did a quick check on the patient after he was secured in his new residence.

“Hopefully, he’s gonna wake up a bit soon. He’s reacting well to what I’m doing,” Henry commented as he checked Agust’s pupils constrict as he shined his pen light in them. He gave some instructions about his IV and transfusion processes. He gave you a quick run down of the floor in case you needed anything. “Until he wakes up, I guess feel free to do whatever in here. It can be like a mini vacation. You know, if you ignore all the weird stuff happening. You can watch some TV or order some food. The mysterious man said to spare no expense when it came to our patient or you. I promise by Friday this will be all over and we can go out and talk about nicer things. Okay?”

Before you could stop yourself, you felt your cheeks get hot and you turned your eyes to the floor. This was not the best place for this, but you knew Henry did it to only ease the anxiety you were feeling. He was almost too perfect. Henry promised to check in once he had finished his rounds as he left from the room and pulled the door shut behind him. You heard the security lock click into place, knowing it would only open from the inside or if you had an ID card. You allowed yourself to drop into the recliner, allowing everything to wash over you. Paranoia was thick in the air as you tried to make sense of everything. Henry was right; whoever these people were they must just want to talk to you and this was easier than scouting the halls. But the thought did very little to chase the nervousness away. Your hands started to rub together out of tension, squeezing your fingers, cracking your knuckles one by one with your thumbs. You took a few deep breaths as you tried to force yourself out of the impending panic. Your eyes looked over at the bed. You tried to remind yourself that you needed to keep it together and be strong for him. Then your eyes landed on his hand. You remembered when you were hiding behind the counter when the man with the cane was getting closer and closer. And when Agust had reached over and squeezed your hand. In that moment, he gave you reassurance with such a small gesture, not thinking of himself. You remembered how genuine it felt. It’d be nice if you could do that now, you thought with a weak smile.

Instead, you settled for forcing yourself to think of something else. You read through his charts, tapped through some news on your phone, and tried to people watch out the window behind the couch. The afternoon sun had started making its way towards the horizon; how quickly the day had ended up flying by. You had decided against turning on the television for now, thinking how awkward it would be for him to wake up to you watching some trash TV show. You tried walking around the room to get a sense of where you’d be staying for the foreseeable future. But all of that only killed twenty minutes and you were still stir-crazy. There wasn’t much you could do for Agust at the moment, except allow him to rest without you trying to hold his hand or anything else.

Suddenly, there was a buzzing in your pocket; it was Agust’s phone. You were a bit ashamed at how quickly you reached for it. There was a new text message. It was from a new named contact: Sunshine. The preview of the message said, ‘To Miss Nurse’, making your assumption that the people on the other end would have expected you to keep the phone on you correct. And since it was addressed to you, you didn’t feel too bad about opening the phone again. You swiped open the text and tried not to scroll anywhere higher into their previous chats.

- Sunshine: To Miss Nurse. if you see this, please take good care of our Hyung. And if he gives you any trouble, tell him I said to behave. RM should be almost there. He tends to speed.

There were a couple silly emojis next to it that made you smile. Surely, they can’t be bad people if this is how they communicate. They must be close friends. Though, you still wondered how they had gotten the director to do all this. Maybe there was someone else doing all of this? You shook your head and typed a quick message back, so not to have them worry.

- I’ll take good care of him. That’s my job.

You really hoped Agust didn’t mind you messing with his phone. Though, you figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission in this scenario. There was no response which made you think that it was all he needed at the time. Gazing at the clock on the phone, you had wasted thirty minutes in the room so far. You thought of your backpack in the locker room a few floors down and some of your things at your stations that you could pass the time with. Since Agust was secure here, you thought it may be a good idea to gather some things to help you waste time until this RM shows up. It was unlikely that Agust was going to wake up yet, and you could be fast so he wouldn’t be alone for long. You slipped the phone back into your pocket and rose from the chair, heading for the door. You cast one more look at the still figure in the bed before dimming the lights and pulled the door shut behind you.

You set off at a brisk pace for the elevator and took it down a few levels to where the staff locker room was kept. You raced in, pulled your bag from your locker, and left before anyone noticed you. You were sure since the director had put the whole hospital on alert that everyone was making rounds to keep eyes everywhere. You hoped grabbing your stuff from your station was just as easy; you weren’t sure about how to explain why you had suddenly deserted your station. Amber wasn’t there but you could hear her and Jax talking loudly from a back room. You wanted to talk to your best friend, to help ease some nerves and have her tell you exactly what you needed to hear. But you didn’t want to wait around or take her away from her new workload. You pulled open the drawer where you kept some personal items, incase of slower work days, and shoved them into your bag. You froze when your fingers hit against something that you knew, instantly, should not be in your bag. Peering into the opening, your eyes locked onto a metallic, black, studded object that you had seen earlier that morning.

The gun Agust had placed in your hand.

How did that get in there? You didn’t remember grabbing it unless it had happened in the chaos of the EMTs and police rushing to assess the situation. Well, if you weren’t already anxious, this just made it worse. Let’s just add this to the ever-growing list of stupid things I’ve done today, you berated yourself. You brought a potentially loaded gun into a hospital. You needed to get back up to the room and get this out of your possession. Maybe when this RM got there, he could take it from you. You pulled the bag shut and slugged it over your shoulder, trying hard not to think about it.

You moved away from the desk and down the hall towards the elevator. But as you stepped into the silent hall with all the doors closed, one was not closed as it had been when you left; the room where Agust had been. And there was someone looking inside. There was a man, tall and stocky, and dressed in a simple navy uniform. He wasn’t a part of the hospital staff and you didn’t think he was there to clean the room with the lights still off. Trying to stay as unnoticed as you could, you took longer strides towards the end. As you passed behind him, you peered beyond him into the pitch blackness of the room to just make out another figure lurking there. He wasn’t dressed in the same way as the man in the door. He was in darker colors that you couldn’t make out and wore what looked like a fedora on his head. What caught your attention as you passed, was the small peek of icy, blue hairs that were just visible on the side. A deep grumble that sounded from the room made your breath catch in your throat, and made you stop in your tracks. It sounded so familiar to the sadistic voice from this morning. The man with the cane had gotten into the hospital?! How, they upped security measures, hadn’t they? Maybe it was your imagination playing with you with all the stress. Not wanting to stick around to figure out if you were right, you tried to get away before they had noticed you.

But, sadly, you weren’t that lucky.

“Excuse me, nurse. Perhaps you can help me.”

You felt your whole body stiffen as the voice was all to clearly the one that had stalked you from beyond the counter. The voice that dripped with crazed malice and venom as he called out for Agust, that had taunted and tried to lure him out. The voice that you were sure would haunt your dreams. It was the man with the cane, though he didn’t have it now. As you turned, he looked nothing like the half-crazed man yelling and destroying things around him. He looked almost normal, save for the fake smile he had plastered across his lips. He was no longer dressed in the light blue suit and fur coat you had caught a glimpse behind the counter, but in a simple dark blazer and trousers. The man who lingered in the doorway had come to stand next to him as they walked up to you, dressed in a police uniform. His uniform cap was pulled low to obscure his face, though you could see bruising and swelling through the shadows. Both of them gave a slight bow to you.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Inspector Taop, this is officer Chen. We are here following up on a patient that was supposed to be brought here. I’ve been looking everywhere, but no one has an answer for me whether he is here or not. And I haven’t seen a single worker on this floor.”

He had never seen you at the scene so you knew he didn’t recognize you, or could see that you didn’t believe anything that was coming out of his mouth. That would help you, you decided. You took a deep breath and tried to hide the fear and nervousness. Just act normal. Try to stall until someone comes around.

“Sorry, officer, we’re a bit understaffed as it is. What can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for a patient that was brought here. Gunshot victim, a young man, brought in this morning?”

“Can you be a bit more specific? We are a hospital. Do you know how many young men we have come in here with some kind of bullet wound? I had six this month.”

You saw the smile slip and irritation rise in those cold eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to hold on to his polite composure. “This one would have come in this morning. There was a shooting downtown. He would have had multiple gunshot wounds. One nurse said he was brought in by ambulance this morning, but then another said that they found no record of him. And the last person I talked to sent me here. Please, this is very important.”

“Can I see your badge, sir?” He looked completely off guard by the question. You, also, seemed confused. It had just jumped out of your mouth before you realized it. But it seemed like the right thing to ask. You continued, “There’s been a threat made to the hospital, you see, and I need to make sure that everything is in order. I would get in trouble if I gave such information about any patient to an imposter.”

You could see the wheels in his head turning. But you didn’t expect him to nod his head, understandingly, and reach into his pocket to hand you a leather, bifold wallet. Was this psycho really a police officer? How could someone so vile be in law enforcement? You thought back to what little memories of your father that you had lingering in the back of your mind and couldn’t begin to imagine him doing anything like what this man had done, no matter how bad of a criminal they were. Before you could think, your body seemed to act on it’s own again and opened the wallet and your eyes started to dance across the metal shield. You weren’t entirely sure what you were looking for at first. Until your eyes caught it and something clicked in your mind. It was a fake, but an exceptionally good fake. Anyone else would have just taken it at face value but something in your mind flashed and screamed that this was a fake like the smile still on the ‘inspector’s’ face. In the reaches of your memory, you remembered running your fingers over your father’s badge, memorizing every detail. And you still did that when you were stressed out; you still had his badge and it was currently in the front pocket of your bag. And you seemed to recall your father teaching you how to identify a real badge from others.

A sudden anger took hold of you that seemed to spur on some brave part of you. You closed the wallet and handed it back to him, keeping your face neutral to hide that you were even more sure of his act. Maybe it was the dishonor to officers like your father, or that he was trying to get to the boy you had risked a lot to save. And your hard work was not going to waste. “I’m sorry officer. But like I said, we have a few patients that could fit your description. None on this floor at all. And if the other nurses said they have no record of him, I’m not sure what I can do for you. Besides that, if we did have a patient come in with multiple gunshot wounds, I imagine that they’d need extensive surgery and wouldn’t be conscious to answer any questions you could have. And with no guardian to act in their place until they are awake to consent to a line of questioning about a traumatic experience, I can’t let you go any further. You should know that, Officer.”

The smile was wiped from the man’s face. The uniformed man’s eyes got wide at your declaration and they shifted towards his leader in panic. Taop, or whatever his real name was, straightened up and took a step towards you. He towered over you and the energy radiating from him would have intimidated you into submission. Just like with your ex. But you needed to protect Agust. In any case, all you needed to do was scream and someone would be alerted. There wasn’t much this asshole could accomplish without being found out. But he continued to advance until he backed you up against the wall. Even still, you never broke eye contact with him.

“I don’t think you understand the situation of this, little girl,” he said, rage tittering on the edge of his voice. “There are some really dangerous people and it would be a shame if you got caught in the crossfires. It’s in your best interest to answer my questions and tell me what I need to know.”

“Then bring a warrant,” you challenged.

His hand collided with the wall next to your head, making you jump. His face was so close to yours now, and there was the crazed man you remembered from this morning. Your heart was in your ears. He, suddenly, took a deep inhale then another before tilting his head to the side. “What a brave little girl. Tell me, where were you this morning? Something tells me you may be exactly who I need to talk to.”

“Hey, back off her!”

Both you and the man turned to look down the hall towards the elevator towards the source of the deep voice that had interrupted the line of questioning. The doors of the elevator were opened and from them stepped a young man with platinum white hair. His eyes were haunting and strong, like a dragon woken from his peace. He was exceptionally tall, taking long strides towards the scene. You couldn’t help but let your eyes take in the man who was coming to your rescue. Dressed in a dark trouser and a white buttoned up shirt gave him a classic handsomeness, and a long black coat with a hood drawn up that accentuated his height. As he approached, he slid the hood down and swiped his hand up to push the stray white hairs from his face. If you weren’t terrified, you would have appreciated how handsome he was. You glanced back at the man caging you; his body tensed as the newcomer walked up but his face never showed.

He let out a sigh and a small smile reappeared, but it was not the same he had tried to charm you with. It was one of arrogance. “Ah, Mr. Kim,” the inspector said, not moving from his position, “how nice of you to drop in.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” the handsome newcomer said, his tone low and smooth.

“What for? Being too formal? Do you not like me using your surname? I’m not sure which name you prefer now; you change names so often, it’s hard to keep up after all this time.”

“You’re one to talk. What name are you going by now, officer? Here to investigate a fraud? Or are you here to put yourself into more trouble?”

“Such a negative attitude. Officer Chen and I are here on official business,” the detective flashed his badge at the so named Mr. Kim. “And this nice young lady was willing to help me out with some information. Isn’t that right, Little Girl?”

“It sure doesn’t look that way coming from the elevator. I think you need to take a step back,” Mr. Kim ordered with a strong but suggestive tone that made you question what kind of power someone as young looking as him could possess.

The fake detective made no sign that he was planning on heeding the newcomer’s words to move from your personal space. His eyes shifted from Mr. Kim back to you. His stare bore into you sharper than claws and made your breath catch. You weren’t sure if he was trying to scare you into agreeing with him or just threaten you. But Mr. Kim was having none of that; he gave the older man’s shoulder a hard shove and wedged himself in the space between you to keep you away from the other man. Mr. Kim reached a hand behind him and placed it on your arm, to keep you secure behind him and to give you some reassurance that he was not going to hurt you. You couldn’t help yourself, as you fisted your hands into the back of his coat and peered around his massive frame.

“You always have to play savior, don’t you Rapmon?” The way he had said the name made it seem like he was trying to strike a nerve in Mr. Kim. But the other man gave no sign that he was bothered. “You make it seem like I was doing something unseemly to her. You and your broken boy scouts always turn things difficult. Speaking of, where are the others? Maybe they could answer some questions for me. There’s one in particular I’m interested in seeing. I’m checking up on a victim from a shooting downtown. Just making sure he’s doing alright.”

“You’re really committed to this bit, aren’t you Choi? Oh, sorry- what name are you going by today? It’s so hard to keep track, isn’t that what you said?” Mr. Kim tilted his head to the side, eyes twinkling with a mischievous shine.

“What a nuisance you are. I’m just trying to get information to make sure things go well. Though come to think of it, your boys may not know much. Word was that the victim was all alone. Left all by themselves, bleeding and hurt in such a dangerous situation. What kind of friends would let someone knowingly go into that situation alone? Now, I’d really like to finish my conversation with the little lady, Rapmon.” When Choi, as you figured his name actually was, took a step towards you, Mr. Kim moved the both of you to keep you behind him and further away from the other. “Well, since you seem hellbent on keeping me from doing something so simple, I could always ask you. Though to be honest, your being here may have answered my questions.”

“My being here answers nothing,” Mr. Kim challenged. “Unlike you, I am here to do good for the community. And it’s a good thing I came by when I did. You’re already on thin ice after all the trouble you’ve caused. Imagine what would happen if you caused any problems while on Hallowed Ground. If you were to hurt anyone staying or working here, you would have more than my family looking for you. The rest of the Families would be looking to teach you a lesson. Imagine what most of them will think when they hear about the deceit you pulled this morning. After what I witnessed, you can be sure I’ll have eyes monitoring this place. You will not go against the Accords.”

“Don’t you lecture me about the Accords, you psycho. I’ve been around just as long as they have and lived them. I taught them to you.”

“And yet, you only follow them when they suit you. Just like your leader and his before him. But things are different now. They are gone, and your hold is slipping. I have enough pull now to ensure Accords are followed. And if you want to make a further spectacle of yourself, I’ll gladly show you I’m not that kid anymore that you ordered around. You saw what my boys can do when pushed. Try me.”

Choi started to laugh, eyes shining in disbelief at the younger bossing him around. As you peered around Mr. Kim’s frame, you saw him go to say something to officer Chen, but couldn’t form the word. He raised his hand towards the white-haired man, but let it drop with a growl. Whatever look was set upon the elder made him rethink his next move. He settled for raising his hands in a surrender and jerking his head towards his companion to tell him they were leaving. It surprised you that he was giving up so easily after how he had acted towards you. You weren’t sure what Mr. Kim meant by accords and families, but it was more than obvious that it meant something to them. Glancing up at your protector, his face remained locked in the same stern and serious mask he had when he had appeared. His eyes, perfectly lined and accentuated with makeup that only made him more intriguing, followed the pair as they turned down the hall.

But before they could get too far, Choi stopped. He turned enough to gaze at the two of you over his shoulder, the dark and manic gleam from that morning flashing like a warning sign. He chuckled before his teasing and taunting voice that had called out to Agust filled the hall like glass shattering. “Look at how far our little maniac has come. Really living up to the title of Mad Leader, aren’t you? He thinks he’s so big and strong that he can just order me around and act like a knight in shining armor to the weak. The Mad Leader’s trying so hard to put up a front, to hide who he is, to hide the other side of the looking glass. But lest he forget, I know things he wouldn’t want others to know. And I seem to recall,” Choi turned fully around and took a full stride back towards Mr. Kim, “you had an issue with places like this. You don’t enjoy being here. Are you falling down the rabbit hole? You even have an Alice this time it would seem. So tell me, Mad Leader, are the walls closing in on you yet? Are you feeling anxious?”

You could feel Mr. Kim tense up at the name ‘Mad Leader’ each time Choi said it. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. He gave you a polite push away from him before fixing Choi with a glare that made officer Chen startle. You could almost feel the air change as he stepped up to be nose to nose with the thug.

“Since you can’t seem to remember my name, asshole, let me spell it out for you. It’s RM, R to the M. And I’m a motherfucking monster. Keep pushing me. I dare you. You hurt one of my boys. You better pray that he makes it out of all this ok. Or you’ll see just how ‘mad’ I can get.”

Chen seemed to realize that something bad was building as he took hold of his superior and pulled him away from RM, newly identified. Choi kept the taunting smile spread across his lips as he allowed Chen to lead him away. Before he got too far, he looked over at you and gave a nod, “We’ll be in touch, Little Girl.” And then he disappeared from the floor, leaving you in the presence of RM. You can’t say you had expected this person to belong to the voice on the other end of the phone, but it would seem like that was the theme of the day. The tall man took a few deep breaths and ran his hand through his white hair before turning back to you. The serious mask he had worn had slipped away and was more approachable. He straightened his clothes before returning to your side.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, “But he shouldn’t be back. He talks a good game but he knows when he’s out done. Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head. “I can’t believe he got in. The hospital is on lock down.”

“Well, he’s been around a while. He has his ways. Now that he’s gone, I was hoping you could help me. I’m looking for a nurse called Y/N.” You locked eyes with him and gave him a nod of affirmation. He gave you a smile, showing off a pair of dimples in his cheeks that made him much more innocent and sweeter than the man who had gone nose to nose with the monstrous thug. “That’s a coincidence. Nice to meet you. Can you show me where to go?”

“Prove that you’re who you say you are,” you said, taking a step away from him. Despite that you were sure he was the one you had talked to, it seemed like nothing was safe. He looked at you for a moment, before coming to a conclusion. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone before letting his finger glide across the screen. A moment later, Agust phone sounded off in your pocket. He glanced over at you with a bemused look as you pulled the phone out and saw the screen lit up with a notification.

- God of Destruction: It’s me.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling embarrassed by your sudden suspicion, “but after that guy flashed a fake police badge at me, I just wanted to be sure. Thank you for coming and for helping me. Are you Agust’s brother or a friend?”

RM’s eyes narrowed when he heard you say Agust and gave you a strange look. His eyes seemed to dance about you, as if he was trying to figure something out. But as quickly as it appeared, the look disappeared and he smiled again. “We usually call him Suga. Only people who don’t like him call him Agust. I don’t think he’d want you calling him that. Can we go see him now? We’ve been worried about him.” You nodded and motioned him to follow you back to the elevator. As you waited for the doors to reopen, he leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Hyung you had his phone.”

“What? Does he have some embarrassing things on here,” you joked.

“Maybe,” came the reply and heard RM chuckle as he allowed you to step into the elevator.

You hit the button for the floor that they moved Agu- Suga to, the doors slid shut, and the lift jolted to a start. As the sound of the mechanisms filled the space, you caught a glimpse of the tall man flinch. It seemed odd, seeing as he had just faced off against the most frightening person you had ever seen. The taunting words he had said to RM before leaving came to mind, about not liking it in a hospital. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have bad experiences related to hospitals, so you tried to brush it off. Once you had made it to the secure floor, you led him down the hall. You explained that the floor was only accessible to a few people and how they had followed the directions as specified to the director. The entire time, RM listened very intently, eyes never leaving you. He was the picture of professionalism and sincerity. You swiped the two of you into the ward, and he held the door open for you as you led him down the hall to the room. As you neared the room, you wondered if you were going to survive the present of two very handsome men. Hopefully, the rest of his friends that you heard over the phone were somewhat average.

As you both entered the room, RM came to a stop in the threshold of the door, his eyes staring at the bed. You could see the worry and panic that you had heard over the phone slip across his face. You reached out and touched his arm. He looked at you with an almost innocent gaze, like he was questioning if it was alright to get closer. You gave him a nod and he was beside his friend in a flash. He looked as if he was debating to reach out to Suga, as if he were made of glass, but settled for taking hold of his hand. RM let out a breath and looked relieved to have finally seen his friend. From your place at the edge of the room, you could see how much one meant to the other and all worries about them being as bad as Choi disappeared.

“Is he going to be ok? What did they do to him,” RM asked, never taking his eyes off his companion.

“Dr. Na took good care of him,” you said, reaching for the file at the end of the bed. “He was shot twice, once in the shoulder and on his left side. The gunshot wound on his side appeared to be at close range and the bullet went through. Thankfully, there wasn’t much damage done. The bullet was lodged in his shoulder, but Dr. Na was able to remove it and mend up some of the damage. We’ll know more when he wakes up, but he should have full range of motion after some rest. He, also, has some bruised ribs and a slight concussion. Along with bruising and defensive wounds pretty much everywhere. He, also, lost a lot of blood. He’s in the middle of a transfusion now. But he is responding well to everything and we believe he should be waking up soon. With enough care, patience, and support, he should make a full recovery in no time. Which is amazing; when I found him, I was worried with how much blood he had lost that he may have had a harder road to recovery.”

RM flicked his eyes over to you. “You found him?”

“They must not have told you. I was on my way to work when I heard the gunshots. I was the first to find him and get him to safety.”

RM looked like he wanted to ask more questions, when a soft groan came from the bed and drew the attention. Suga took in a deep breath and his body shifted as if fighting to wake and identify the voices. After a tense moment, his body relaxed and his eyes opened slightly. From the edge of the bed, you could see the glazed and shiny effects of the medication still trying to hold him in the state of unconsciousness, and realized he may not fully be aware of what is happening. But you were sure the presence of RM had drawn him out enough to give them a sign that he was okay. RM called out to his hyung softly, drawing Suga’s attention as he gazed about the room.

“Hyung, hey, can you hear me?”

Suga’s eyes fully landed on RM. It seemed as if he was fighting his way to recognition before he gave a small, drugged smile back. “Joon,” his voice sounded exhausted and stained.

RM laughed. “Yeah, Hyung, it’s me. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe.”

“Joonie, I think I’m dead. I saw an angel.”

The whitehaired man reached out and ran his fingers, gently, through his friend’s hair. “No, Hyung, you’re only tired. That bastard messed you up but you’re gonna be alright now. Why don’t you go back to sleep? The boys and I will be here when you wake up.”

“Oh,” Suga said, almost sounding disappointed as the drugs started to drag him back to oblivion, “too bad. It was a pretty angel. Prettier than Jiminie and Hyungie combined. But don’t tell them I said that.” And just as fast as he woke, Suga went silent and still again.

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selfships-in-spanish · 4 years

Note

Idk random thought but I think it would be cute/hot if canon!verse connor and ona where at home watching a movie and it ended up with them getting handsy with one another. Like, they're snuggled up under blankets and roaming hands lead to some fun times (like some finger fucking/handjob etc.).

Anon I am DEEPLY SORRY for how long it took, but between the creative rut I was in, the months I worked and such... I just had no time and words didn’t want to come to me.

But I really hope you’re still around and that you enjoy this 6683 word smutty one-shot!

A bazillion thanks to @tinmiss1939 for helping me out with English and ideas when my brain decided to not cooperate <3

Warnings: smut! They get touchy 👀

––––––––––––––––––––

Saturday nights ended up being movie nights with Ona’s cozy blanket that her grandmother knit her as a Christmas present. She didn’t want her favourite grandchild being cold in the States, knowing Ona was used to her precious Mediterranean weather. Connor ended up snogging most of the blanket, even if it was big enough for two adults and had wool to spare.

Ona made sure Connor was familiarised with the classics, checking out the long list of movies she wanted Connor to see, and Ona would also make popcorn and prepare thririum-sodas for Connor so he could enjoy The Experience. Connor was grateful for her efforts and felt her enthusiasm transmit to him too. He kind of regretted watching Terminator 2 because she kept asking him to repeat some lines, but he secretly looked for leather jackets. T-800 was… cool.

Ona finished the popcorn, setting the bowl on the table next to their soda glasses. She was currently staring at the screen, quite invested in how Yoda trained Luke Skywalker on Dagobah. Connor ventured a look at her, eyes zeroing on her lips absently wrapping around her popcorn-salty fingers. He wondered how her tongue would feel on his own fingers, the texture, the heat. A notification appeared on his HUD, warning him about a slight rise in his core temperature. Connor ignored it.

Connor decided a distraction from those thoughts would be good, and he went to reach for his own thirium-soda, keeping his eyes on the TV screen. Ona reached to the paper napkins she put there previously, wiping the remaining of the salt and saliva out of her fingers. Once done, she threw the crumpled paper napkin inside the popcorn bowl and rearranged herself on the sofa to find a comfortable position, which ended being by her leaning slightly into Connor. The poor android suppressed embarrassing noises at the fact that Ona was slightly touching his arm with hers. He couldn’t wait to actually feel her in his arms, some day.

They kept their positions for a while, Connor not daring to move a single centimetre in case Ona realised her proximity and put some distance between them. But rA9, how he wanted to move to—

Ona leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly.

Connor wanted to scream.

His olfactory sensors could pick up traces from her fruity shampoo and the pressure and heat sensors from his shoulder could feel the warmth from her cheeks and the comfortable weight of her head. Some stray curls tickled his neck.

Connor wanted to scream. A lot.

He stayed perfectly still, his breathing program stuttering slightly. Did she know what this meant? To him? Did she know how he longed to feel her against him and to be able to freely touch her? Touch her soft, snow white curls? Connor ignored the movie completely (not that Ona will ever know, he could download it and watch it anytime, as well as film analysis and data in case she wanted to discuss the plot and story points), focusing his attention on this tiny human that managed to make her way into his pump, unknowing of the depth she managed.

He wanted to lean his head against hers too, he wanted to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her closer to him, he wanted to feel her entire weight on him, he wanted—

Ona nuzzled her head against Connor’s shoulder, shifting to make herself more comfortable. Connor was this close to make shutdown noises.

Connor tried to analyse this situation: Ona was not uncomfortable with his presence, she was in fact seeking contact, and she was quite prone to seek human touch. She was a hugger, she liked holding his hand whenever she dragged him somewhere or would poke Hank’s chest when she teased him, sometimes even managing to convince Hank into letting her tie his hair in a ponytail. So, it wasn’t new she liked to touch her friends and people she was comfortable with, but the fact that she was touching him… he would never get used to it, or at least anytime soon.

“Am I too heavy?”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, slightly lifting her head to turn around just enough to face Connor. RA9, she was beautiful.

“You are not, detective. My pressure plates and carbon fibre chassis can endure heavy weights and— what?” Ona was smiling at him, fondly, and with an amused spark in her eyes. Connor could get lost in her olive-green gaze.

“You said detective,” Ona began, a teasing edge in her voice. “We are not in the precinct. Do I have to pull a Hank on you?” Hank was very loud about how he didn’t want to be called Lieutenant every single time his friend, because he wasn’t ready for son yet, talked to him. And Ona wasn’t shy to make herself heard either.

“That will not be necessary, Miss Boix.” Ona raised a brow. “Ona.”

“That’s better. I like the way you say my name.” Ona got on her previous position, leaning her head on his shoulder again. Connor was too stunned to reply, having her words in a loop. What the hell does he reply to that?

Connor kept staring at the screen without really seeing anything. Half of his HUD was occupied with error notifications and temperature increases, as well as his pump regulator accelerating. The other half was occupied with romantic manoeuvres and tips he could execute to take a further step in their relationship. He decided to try one of the most used and well reviewed tactics: the arm stretching behind the couch.

On the count of three, because he needed a mental kick from himself to move, Connor slowly nudged his shoulder, making Ona hum. She lifted her head, and Connor almost regretted moving because it meant she was no longer touching him, wasn’t letting her soft cheek press against his perfectly ironed shirt and— but it was for a good reason, he told himself. Connor lifted his arm, trying to ignore Ona’s questioning look, and made as if he stretched it as humans do after having a limb locked on a particular position for too long.

“You should have told me you were uncomfortable, bobo.” Ona mumbled, shifting into a new position.

“No!” Ona looked back at him, startled at his outburst. Connor mentally kicked himself. “No, uh. I’m okay. I, uh…” Ona frowned, Connor didn’t stutter. The android decided to finish executing his move. Carefully, he let his arm fall and curl on Ona’s shoulder, making her head rest on it. “I thought you would be more comfortable like this.”

He made it. Connor made it. He executed it perfectly, as expected from an android.

Ona smiled, an “awww” escaping her lips, being touched by Connor’s concern. She snuggled further, pulling the blanket up and making a cocoon with both of them inside. One of her hands rested on his chest.

Connor was a wreck.

For Connor, Ona felt as if she fit right there, in his arms, as if he had been perfectly designed to fit her body. It was a silly thought, but it made Connor giddy. Ona was warm, she was a comfortable weight against his own body, and he quite liked the feeling of it. He could get used to it.

Both human and android resumed watching the sci-fi classic, Connor still processing what just happened. Deviancy was new, deviancy was scary, but with Ona, Hank and the Jericho crew next to him, it was a less frightening journey. Deep in his thoughts, Connor didn’t notice a slight tugging at his tie. Looking down, he saw Ona’s hand tugging at it with a displeased frown.

“Aren’t you suffocating with this?” Connor looked at the perfectly made windsor knot, apparently offending Ona’s standards of ‘comfy movie night’.

“I can’t suffocate–”

“Shush, you know what I mean!” Ona teased him, flicking the silky end. “It looks a little bit constricting for a pajama-ish movie night, don’t you think?” Connor considered her reasoning and she surely had more experience in such matters than him, anyways. Maybe he should listen for once. “C’mon, loosen up a bit! You can relax here.” Connor was the opposite of relaxed, having her so close and being so carefree with her touch. But, maybe he should really give it a shot.

“Well, I suppose I could... try.”

Ona grinned, not caring to hide how pleased she was that Connor both listened to her and tried to loosen up as she suggested. The twinkle in her eyes spurred Connor into action. He sat up, efficiently undoing the knot. The android folded the tie and left it on top of the table, Ona snorting at the mannerisms he couldn’t shake off. Feeling daring, Connor unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He looked back at her in time to see her roll her eyes and slightly shake her head.

“No no no! That’s not loosening up! We are not in the Victorian period and you are not a victorian lady showing an ankle, bobo!” Ona sat up and inched closer to Connor, not giving him time to react when she grabbed his shirt and unbuttoned a few more buttons, pleased at the hint of a collarbone. Connor’s pump rhythm skyrocketed. “There, much better!”

Connor could count every tiny freckle on her skin, being as close as she was, and he could also see the hint of gold in her beautiful olive green eyes. He wanted to say thank you, but got lost in her gaze.

Ona patted his chest, smiling once more before shifting into her previous position, but this time much closer with her head propped up fully on his shoulder and her hand resting on his clothed chest. Her weight was comfortable, he liked it, and unconsciously he let his arm fall once again and curl around her, pulling her slightly closer. Ona sighed contentedly, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder.

They settled for a comfortable silence, enjoying the movie. Connor liked when Ona giggled at some parts of it, made tiny commentaries and got excited when her favourite scenes came on. He also liked how her curls tickled his now more exposed skin, whenever she laughed or shifted, and the warm weight of her hand on his chest. Connor had to force his artificial breathing program to not stutter or become erratic; she could not suspect of her effect on him in case she moved away at the knowledge of it. Connor thought it was selfish of him, and felt guilty of it, but he really wanted to be a bit selfish sometimes, as both Ona and Hank suggested more than once.

His pressure sensors detected a soft caress on his clothed chest. Connor ventured a look and found Ona still looking attentively at the screen, as if her thumb wasn’t mindlessly brushing Connor’s chest. Connor concentrated on the feel of it, letting himself bask in the glory of her touch. He knew what this kind of gesture meant, Connor did an extensive research on affectionate touches and their meanings, so he really allowed himself to chase that fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, Ona wanted more.

Ona shifted again, getting more comfortable on Connor’s shoulder, and her hand didn’t move from its spot or cease its movement. In fact, it slipped slightly forward, inching near the open shirt. Connor was very aware of the spare centimetres between his naked synthskin and Ona’s hand. She kept caressing his chest with her thumb and Connor didn’t dare to move. Until his sensors picked up the movement and slight pressure of her hand moving forward.

Connor was never prepared for the feel of her fingers on his chest, warm human skin against his synthskin. He wouldn’t know how to describe it, how wonderful and exhilarating it was, how eager it made him for more. Ona kept brushing her fingers against his chest, appearing completely oblivious of it. His hand unconsciously twitched on her shoulder, as if looking for an outlet to release everything he was bottling up in a false sense of calmness. Connor didn’t know how to proceed; all this was new, the whole world was brand new after deviating and Ona made him feel things he didn’t know the name yet.

But he liked those things.

Ona was a comfortable weight, and he absolutely loved the tingling feeling her fingers left when they lifted off his skin. It sent the android equivalent of “shivers” down his spine, to every connector, every nook of his body. He wanted more.

A snort escaped Ona’s lips. Connor registered that a funny line happened in the movie, but he completely ignored it in favor of saving in a special folder, that he will never say it is labeled as Ona or that he has it, every stroke of her hand, every curl tickling his skin and adding more input to his already overloaded connectors and sensors.

Ona’s hand ventured its way up, leaving tiny sparks of electrical fire on her trail. Her fingers brushed Connor’s collarbone, softly, as if Ona didn’t want to spook Connor with her boldness. Connor had to bite back a noise he didn’t know he was capable of doing, the sensation of her touch melting him right where he was. But it felt good, so good, to be touched like this. Connor unconsciously bit his lip.

Connor didn’t see the glint in Ona’s eyes. In another situation, like catching a perp, Connor would know that glint meant Ona was determined and even dangerous; once she put her attention on something, she would chase it off like a lioness. Right now, Connor was her prey.

Ona shifted once again, her fingers leaving a trail up his neck. Her fingernails lightly scraped Connor’s synthskin, as if on accident, and he couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped his lips. He was too focused on the pleasant feeling of her touch to notice her leaning into him. Connor would never, ever, be ready for the exhilarating feel of her soft lips kissing his neck so tenderly. His hand squeezed Ona’s shoulder, wanting to melt right there as she kept peppering Connor’s synthskin with tiny butterfly kisses. He was so scared to move, to do something wrong and probably tear Ona from this haze. When her lips brushed his jawline Connor let out a breathy pant.

Connor’s HUD was suddenly invaded by warnings and alerts, programs initiating that he was not aware he had them installed. His temperature was rising and pop-ups kept coming. It was more than obvious that Ona had other plans in mind than watch a movie. Is this what humans really meant with the “Netflix and chill” saying, used a long time ago? But more importantly, Ona wanted to do… intimate things, with him? She didn’t mind he was not human? Given the enthusiasm, no, she didn’t mind at all.

Ona tugged slightly aside the collar of Connor’s shirt, giving her more room and more of Connor’s synthskin to kiss. She couldn’t resist temptation and lightly nibbled where his neck met his shoulder.

“Ah!” Connor arched his back, closing his eyes at the onslaught of sensations running through his very wires. Ona unglued herself from his body, making Connor want to whine at the lack of her warmth and weight against his body.

“Shit, sorry.” Ona’s voice seemed panicked for a moment. “Fuck. Joder. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

Connor opened his eyes and tried to focus on her lovely, very flushed face. Her pupils were blown out, almost eating her beautiful green irises, and her lips were redder than usual, something Connor would never get tired from looking at.

“I went too far, didn’t I?” Ona covered her face in shame with her hands, groaning.

He wanted to say so much, but even if he had 300 languages at his disposal, Connor was unable to find the words he needed to express himself with.

“I…” could he convey what he felt through his eyes? Would Ona catch the need in them?

“Do you... do you want to go or...?” Guess not. Ona sat back, twisting one of her curls on her finger, something Connor noticed she did when she was nervous. Connor closed his eyes, frustrated.

This was the chance he wanted after all this time of pining after the tiny human detective that made his pump skip its perfect rhythm.

It was now or never. Connor turned to face her, nervous. He lifted his hands and felt his fingers twitch, as if they exactly knew the meaning behind his intentions. Connor made Ona turn her head to face him, holding her in place. For once, Connor stopped thinking and decided to let his heart act.

Connor crashed his lips against hers.

Ona let out a surprised noise, but was happy she didn’t scare Connor off, and let him do as he wanted. His lips were soft, and somehow Ona expected them to be a bit more stiff and cold, but they felt like they belonged there, with hers, warm and pliant. She let Connor take his time, have his sweet first kiss at his pace and liking, chaste and innocent, but even if she wanted to be there like this for the rest of her life, she needed to breathe.

Breathing through her nose made Connor remember that humans needed oxygen, and that he was depriving his precious detective of it. Embarrassed, Connor parted from her lips with a million sorry’s ready to spill from his own, chastiting himself for not thinking about it. See? This is what happens when he doesn’t think, and now Ona–

Connor found his thoughts halted once again when Ona kissed him back, crawling on his lap to have a better angle. She let her weight rest on him, liking how well her body fit with his. Connor let his hands rest on her waist, not knowing where to put them exactly. Since his mind was occupied right now, he let them wander as they liked. Ona didn’t mind one bit.

Wanting more, Ona lightly bit Connor’s bottom lip to make him gasp at the feeling and open his mouth. She took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, letting her tongue touch Connor’s as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him flush with her body. Ona was careful, slow, letting Connor get used to it, verging on sweet. Connor didn’t know if it was in some code ingrained deep in him, or the salty taste of her tongue due to the popcorn she ate before, but it felt divine.

Thinking about the extensive research Connor did, preparing himself for the day this exact moment happened, he decided to put in motion one of the things he saw and read about. One of his hands went to cup the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her white curls. The other one wrapped itself around her, securing the manoeuvre. He read about the intimacy of kisses, of bodies touching, tongues dancing with each other and the sweet noises that fueled the passion. He also watched videos trying to educate himself on the matter and thinking about him and the detective in such situations, going as far as having reconstructions in his mind that rendered him a blushing mess and his LED a permanent red. He wanted it. He wanted it so much. Nothing he watched compared to the reality of this moment.

Adding a little bit of pressure, Connor made Ona turn her head more to the side so he could properly deepen the kiss. Ona’s muffled moan made his core temperature rise, and he inhaled fresh air to try to cool his body. His other hand descended from her back, brushing the hem of her sweatpants, and let it rest on her buttock. Connor unconsciously squeezed it, making Ona arch into him and gasp in between sloppy kisses. Ona made a mess of Connor’s neatly styled hair, and honestly he couldn’t give a damn about it.

Connor felt a change in Ona’s movements, and he frowned, not pleased at having to stop.

“Wait— Conn— Hmpf!“ Ona abruptly tried to stop the kiss, untangling herself from him and trying to mumble words in between kisses. Connor chased her lips until he felt her fingers stop him.

Connor felt like ice-cold water fell on him, freezing the poor android on the spot. Did he misread the situation? Did Ona not want this anymore? Did he go too far? Did he—?

“Wait. Connor,” Ona took a deep breath to gather her wits. This had been amazing and she needed more, but she needed to ask him something first. “Wait— no, don’t give me that look, let me explain. I… You did nothing wrong, if that’s what you are asking yourself, quite the contrary. I loved this, I longed for this, but I want to know if you want it too.”

“If I want it too? Kissing you back hasn’t proved it enough to—” Connor didn’t understand. He liked her, he kissed her, maybe he didn’t do it enough to prove his point?

“I don’t want to force anything on you, Connor! I want you to want this as much as I do, but I don’t want to force you or coerce you into wanting this. I don’t want to screw it up. I really, really like you. And I really want to know if you want this—“

Connor reached for her hands, squeezing them in his.

“You really don’t know how many times I dreamed of this, of you. I always wondered how your lips would feel, or your touch.” Connor felt daring and bold. This was his chance. “I want you, Ona. I want this. And if we don’t go back to this wonderful human thing called kissing, I’ll—“

Ona let out a relieved laugh. Connor tugged her back to him, urged Ona to sit on his lap as she was doing before. Connor held her face in his hands, touching his forehead with hers.

“This whole... deviant thing is new and scary. Feelings are scary, but… I want to explore them with you. Good and bad.” Connor’s voice was low and soft, as if he didn’t want to break their little bubble.

“Then… let’s take it slow.”

Ona pressed her lips against Connor’s again, softly, letting the sweetness of the moment dictate the pace they wanted to follow. The movie kept playing in the background, completely forgotten.

Connor let his hands descend Ona’s body, as if he was mapping once again her figure, trying to save it in his memory forever. It always mesmerised Connor how soft and squishy humans could be, and he let himself squeeze his hands against her flesh once again, relishing the thrilling sensation of having his hands so full.

That elicited a low moan from Ona, who in return slowly rocked her hips against Connor’s. The android let out a groan himself, getting a hold of her hips and pushing her down against him again. It felt so good, the pressure sending sparks all over his body, and he couldn't wait to learn more about this wonderful human thing called makeouts. Connor wasn’t stupid, he did his research and he knew humans and sex had a tight relationship, although it wouldn’t be good to generalise since what made humans so unique and beautiful, was the diversity in their race. But still, he wanted to explore it with Ona if she wanted to, and right now he couldn’t be thanking RA9 more than he was right now for letting this happen.

Ona felt like taking things up a notch, and she loved the reaction she got out of Connor the first time –despite her momentum of panic–, so she broke the kiss to brush her lips against his jaw, nuzzling her nose against his neck. Ona felt Connor’s artificial breath stutter in its impeccable rhythm, and was delighted to see how Connor bared his neck to her. Ona wasted no time, peppering the exposed synthskin with slow and wet kisses, while she kept grinding her hips against him. Feeling his excitement only fueled her own more.

Her hands busied themselves with the remaining buttons of Connor’s shirt, impatient to have his chest and torso fully exposed for her to see and touch. Having the always impeccably dressed android under her, all sense of decorum and propriety gone, gave Ona a rush nothing else could give her. Ona bit her lip once her work was done and could gaze at her prize. He was delightful, beautiful, truly a work of art. Connor’s flushed cheeks and red, shiny lips made her feel herself clench, desperate to have something fill her.

Connor’s irises were engulfed by his pupils, lust coating them, and Ona marveled at how expressive his eyes were. Connor had always been a quick learner, though, and he could see how much Ona needed to be touched right now. His hands reached the hem of her sweatpants again, and this time he didn’t pass the opportunity to get his hands inside them, feeling the soft fabric of her underwear slid under his fingertips. It was Ona’s turn to close her eyes and let out a shaky exhale, eager to see what Connor would do this time. A soft gasp escaped her lips when Connor got his hands inside her underwear too, feeling his fingers on her burning skin. He squeezed the flesh of her buttocks in his hands, feeling the fullness of it. Ona groaned, arching her back to give Connor more leverage. The android sat up while Ona was distracted, pulling her close to his body. Connor decided he wanted to do the same things Ona did to him, to make her feel as good as he did, and now that he had her neck in full display, he was going to take advantage of that.

Kissing her feverish skin was delicious, but Connor knew he was only adding more wood to the fire the moment he bit the juncture of her neck and shoulder, replicating her actions from before. The reaction was instantaneous: Ona’s moan echoed around her living room, her nails digging in Connor’s shoulders as she felt shivers run up and down her body. His tongue soothed the mark he left, kissing it as an apology, although the thought of her having a mark made by him excited Connor more than he expected. And by the looks of it, Ona didn’t mind much. Connor left a trail of kisses up her neck, reaching her jaw, and left another mark right under it.

“Ah!” Connor scored another win for himself, pleased at how the proud and self-assured detective was becoming putty in his hands. “You do not play fair, Connor. You already know one of my weak spots.” Her teasing tone made him smile, hiding it behind a kiss on her shoulder.

“I am the most advanced android detective, after all.” that made Ona laugh, leaning back to see the mirth in Connor’s eyes. His sense of humour improved greatly.

“Aren’t you a cocky android, hm?” Connor winked in response, which made Ona snort. She knew exactly how to wipe off that self-satisfied expression from Connor’s face.

Connor knew that arched brow and mischievous smile meant trouble, but he was quite eager to find out what Ona was planning to do. She pushed him back on the sofa, his hands sliding out from under her clothes to end up getting a hold of her hips. Connor decided she looked absolutely stunning in her loose maroon t-shirt and slightly pushed down grey sweatpants. Her underwear was peeking out too, and the little visible piece of fabric made him swallow hard.

“Let’s see how cocky are you now, Mr.Detective.”

Ona’s hands descended from Connor’s shoulders to his chest, savoring the feeling of her fingertips grazing the perfectly designed muscles. Ona slowed down when she was close to his belt, teasing the belt loops, tugging them slightly. Connor’s breath hitched when her fingers skimmed over the belt buckle. His eyes were glued to her hands, watching as she undid the buckle and teased the button of his trousers. Connor let out a stuttered breath as Ona’s palm pressed against his zipper, pulled taut by his erection.

Deciding she wanted to tease him a little bit more, Ona slipped her fingers inside Connor’s trousers, over his underwear, as he did to her before. Connor arched his back off the sofa, groaning at the feeling of Ona’s fingers grasping his clothed cock. Connor’s hands squeezed Ona’s hips, needing something to hold onto as he was blown away by the feeling of her fingers on him.

It felt amazing.

Ona took her hand out much to Connor’s dismay, a soft and breathy “no no no–” escaping his lips, followed by an “–oh” when he saw that Ona was undoing the button of his trousers and pulling the zipper down.

“Up.” Connor got the message. He lifted his hips so Ona could push down his clothes just enough to free his aching erection from them.

Ona let out a soft moan at the sight of Connor’s cock in full display, rock hard against his belly. She felt herself clench, as if trying not to make more of a mess on her underwear as she was doing now. Ona wanted to do a lot of things right now. She wanted to push her own sweatpants and underwear down and ride him until he burned his vocal module from moaning, she wanted to get on her knees and pleasure him, feel his hands on her head as he guided her to how he liked it best, she wanted to–

They will have time to do all of that. For now, Ona wanted tonight to be for him, to discover what he liked, what it felt like. Ona looked up and was met with hungry and desperate eyes. Connor was on the verge of begging Ona to do anything, because judging by what he felt before, this was going to be even better.

Slowly, Ona trailed her finger from base to tip, pleased at the amount of wetness gathered at the head. Connor stuttered, not tearing his gaze from Ona’s own lustful ones until she did to look down again. He did the same, and the image he found would be forever stored in his memory bank, locked up in a special folder. She was smaller than him, he often marvelled at the difference between them and how her hands were shorter than his, for example, and in this exact moment he couldn’t be more delighted to see how said hand wrapped itself around his cock. He was not ready for when she moved.

Connor cried out, throwing his head back on the sofa’s headrest. His sensors were going absolutely crazy. He felt as if fire was spreading all over his connections and he wanted more, so much more. Ona’s hand was covered in a sheer blue slick, the fluid helping her motions. The sound of it was downright sinful, and it only turned both human and android more.

Connor’s thirium pump was pounding in his chest, moaning and groaning, his interior fans fighting to keep the body temperature in check. It was getting harder as Ona started squeezing her hand when she reached the head of his cock, way more sensitive than the rest, and Connor’s hips involuntarily thrusted upwards when her other hand renewed her journey on his chest, making sure she traced his collarbone and neck.

One well placed tug made Connor keen, feeling light-headed, and unconsciously pulled Ona to his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Her hand was trapped between them, but she never ceased her movements. Ona’s curls brushed Connor’s cheek, some strands being plastered over her forehead, and Connor could feel her rapid breaths tickling his ear.

Connor, in a moment of clarity and feeling a tad bold, had an idea. He still doesn’t know how he managed to tear one of his hands apart from Ona’s body, but he had to make Ona feel as good as him. He was no stranger to human anatomy, and even less human genitalia, so he knew what he had to do in Ona’s case. He sneaked a hand inside the front of her sweatpants and underwear, feeling her smooth skin until he found her mound. Connor didn’t stop there, he kept going until his fingers brushed her soaked wet clit. Her hitched breath was music for his audio modules.

“Connor–!” Ona jolted, arching her back and gasping, melting his name into a moan.

Connor decided, right in that moment, that his name never sounded so divine before. The sensors on his fingers picked up the generous amounts of wetness gathered in them, and Connor had the urge to taste it. But that was something for later, now he had more important matters in his hands.

Recalling all the information he previously searched, Connor let his fingers be completely soaked in Ona’s juices, knowing it would make the glide smoother. Her folds were soft to his touch, velvety, and Connor loved the feel of it. Her heavy breaths and moans on his ear spurred him to keep going, to trace every inch of her sex, to tease her entrance with his finger pads. Connor’s other hand released his hold on Ona’s hip, moving it up to brush her nape and bury itself on her hair. Ona reacted to his touch, raising her head from Connor’s shoulder to took at him. Her lips were shining bright, reddened from worrying them with her teeth, and Connor felt the urge to kiss them again.

So he did, swallowing Ona’s moan as Connor got his middle and ring finger inside her, feeling her walls pulse around him, burning. Ona had to stop pumping her hand, needing a moment to gather her wits as Connor moved his fingers in and out of her, his thumb finding Ona’s clit and rubbing it slowly, almost lazily, which drove Ona mad with pleasure. When Ona renewed her movements, gripping Connor’s cock harder, the android groaned and bit Ona’s bottom lip, getting his tongue inside as she did earlier. Connor felt a gush of slick tickle down his hand, and it only excited him more to know it was because of him.

Having his sensors overloaded continuously from the new and pleasurable sensations, Connor had a feeling this would crest soon. He was tempted to cut out the process of it so it would last longer, all night if possible, but he desperately needed to find his release. He felt like a spring fiercely recoiled, ready to snap at any given moment, and Ona’s tiny moans and gasps of his name as she rocked herself on his fingers only catapulted him into it. He had a feeling Ona was close too.

But oh, that felt so good. He doesn’t exactly know what Ona did, but it felt amazing, so Connor let himself be drowned in it, thrusting his hips up at the same time as Ona to pulled down her hand. He was close, so close, so–

“Ona, I’m– I think I’ll– Ah!”

Connor came all over Ona’s hand and his belly with a jerk of his hips, throwing his head back into the sofa as he let the shockwaves consume him whole. In the process, Connor unconsciously pulled on Ona’s hair, needing to grip onto something, and with a brush of his thumb on her clit Ona came right after him, blessing Connor with a mixture of spanish curse words and moans. Connor felt the tight grip on his fingers, her juices coating him even more, and the thought and feel alone made another glob of synthetic cum dribble over her.

Ona let her forehead rest on Connor’s one, panting and trying to regain her breath again. Connor mimicked her, trying to cool his body and helping his frenzied interior fans. When Ona opened her eyes, he found Connor gazing at her with such emotion behind his eyes that made Ona’s heart skip a beat. Connor’s hand was still on Ona’s back of the head, so in a moment where he just let himself follow his heart, Connor pulled Ona in for a sweet, slow kiss. When they parted, it was Ona’s time to gaze at Connor, wondering how beautiful he was right in that instant with his hair disheveled and a blush on his cheeks.

The ending fanfare of the movie credits made her trance break, noticing Connor’s sticky release in her hand beginning to cool. Ona released her hold on Connor’s cock, raising her hand to her face so she could inspect it closer. Connor sheepishly did the same, trying to ignore the squelching sound of his fingers getting out of her and how his own cock twitched in response. Connor knew he could stop the refractory period too, ready to go for another round until he ran out of thirium and had to enter into stasis, but he had a feeling Ona wouldn’t appreciate that. Instead, he inspected Ona’s own cum on his fingers, the fluid sticking to his fingers too.

Connor swore he didn’t mean to, it was a completely unconscious decision, but he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting her. A soft giggle made him look up, his cheeks burning out of shame.

“That is so… you.” Ona’s warm smile made Connor know she was not teasing him or angry. It was genuine. She made a conscious effort to inspect her own fingers, coated with the blueish fluid on them. Connor made a move to stop her, feeling suddenly embarrassed of it, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop her. Ona’s tongue peeked from her mouth, licking one finger. She hummed, followed by a snort when Connor’s voice module did an undignified noise at the sight of it. “I thought it would taste… plastic-ish. It’s actually not bad.”

“...Synthetic ejaculate can have different flavours, if desired.” Connor will never know what triggered that piece of information to appear on his HUD, and what made him say it, but Ona’s open-hearted laugh was worth it.

“Put a sweet, chocolate-ish flavour in, and you will have me all day on my knees and you know it.” Ona turned around just enough to grab tissues from the coffee table, wiping her hand clean, as if she had just commented on the weather.

Connor was suddenly assaulted by reconstructions of what Ona just said, rendering him to a violently spinning red LED and his blush program glitching, making his cheeks reach a bluish glow. Ona hastily threw aside the used tissue, not caring where it went, when he noticed Connor’s state.

“Oh my God! Connor, are you okay?” Ona held Connor’s face in her hands, desperately searching for an answer in his eyes. Connor looked at her, his LED reverting back into yellow.

“There’s vanilla flavour, strawberry flavour, milk chocolate with caramel flavour–” Ona snorted, bumping her forehead with his.

“You oaf, I was worried!” Connor raised his brow as if questioning her. If he was being cocky again it meant he was okay and back to normal. Ona guilty looked to the side.“...milk chocolate with caramel.”

Connor smiled. Ona shook her head, smiling too, as she turned around again to pick up more tissues for Connor.

“Let’s clean you up.” Connor kept smiling, feeling dazed with happiness, as he let Ona do as she pleased. Once clean, Connor pushed and fastened his trousers and belt, as Ona mourningly buttoned his shirt.

Ona stood up once finished, her face twisting into a grimace as she felt the cold and sticky mess in her panties. She looked down, trying not to worsen it by moving too much.

“...And I need new underwear.”

Connor stood up with her, eagerness coating his movements and voice.

“Let me help you with that.”

#dbh #detroit become human #rk800 #rk800 x oc #canonverse #mius writes #smut #ask #anon

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deadlygronkle · 3 years

Text

Ancestor’s Legacy Part 3.5/4

Author’s note: While this is part 4 it is technically part 3.5, and is about basically what happened during part 3 in Twilight’s perspective.

Twilight was having a bad week, or at least a bad 3 or so days. First it was that Hylia damned helmet that appeared, looking brand new, which Twilight admits looks a bit weird not seeing it covered in vines and degraded beyond repair, and it sitting on the head of his still alive mentor.

Next it was that mask which apparently can turn Time into a stalfos, which sends a lot of questions running through his head. Like how time could very well have been alive when he trained Twilight just older, just like how Twilight was sent through time in his wolf form to aid Wild. Though if that was the case that would raise some questions on how Time met him in Twilight’s hyrule in wolf form, or how Time somehow sent blasts of magic at him through his sword.

Twilight, shaking out of his state of confusion, continued to wander around Warriors’ Zelda’s castle, dubbed Artemis when they first met. Artemis reminded Twilight of his own Zelda, who he hasn’t seen since this whole ordeal began, in the sense of how strict but also kind to everyone no matter where they came from and what problems they carry with them. Both of them are also very intelligent especially in war tactics.

Twilight sighed as he looked to the area he was in. Twilight was staring at a long hallway with paintings of the past kings and queens adorning each side of the hallway. The carpet was a deep royal blue that every hallway in the castle had along with golden highlights that looked to be of Hyrule's insignia every foot or so.

Twilight sigh, just his luck he would somehow get lost in the castle after trying to avoid Time and his questions. Twilight is no idiot and knows he has been acting weird ever since the helmet appeared in one of Legend’s countless dungeons. He can’t help it, everytime he looks at Time with the helmet on all he can see is the Hero’s Shade’s skeletal face grinning down at him.

Twilight was startled out of his thoughts again as he heard a voice that sounded like Warriors shout “There you are!”.

Twilight turned around to find Warriors standing there, looking a bit out of breath, “How did you get all the way over here?”

Twilight shrugged and said “I got lost in thought and didn’t realise where I was going.”.

Warriors gave him a suspicious glance and replied “You seem to be doing a lot of thinking recently, wanna tell me about what's been bothering you so much to cause you to zone out in a moment’s notice, farm boy?”

Twilight, once again shrugged and replied “Just thinking about my quest through my own Hyrule, specifically the people I met during the journey.”

Warriors hummed “It has something to do with the old man doesn’t it” Twilight couldn’t stop the surprised look that came on his face. “I mean every time you have zoned out these past few days you always end up staring at Time like he is on his deathbed.”

Twilight sighed mulling over his words carefully before saying “Lets just say that I have seen his helmet before on someone who helped me on my quest” Warriors face lit up in recognition as he realised the implications of what Twilight said, “but you can’t tell him that I told you this alright?”.

Warriors at a loss for words just nodded. Twilight visibly loosened up and then stated “So what did you need me for?”

“We are leaving the castle here in like 15 minutes and you need to come back so we can make sure your weapons and everything are covered by the cloak” Warriors stated quickly going back into captain mode.

Twilight nodded “lead the way.”

Once they both got back to the group nearly everyone besides Twilight and Warriors were donning their heavy cloaks, but they quickly started putting their own cloaks on. Once everyone had their cloaks on Warriors, having taken the lead since this is his hyrule told the links that they were moving out in 10, much to the relief of Twilight for not being forced to wear the fever inducing cloak for very long.

Wild then walked up to Twilight who had been rearranging his cloak so he didn’t die of heat stroke and said “Hey will you be alright? You have been out of it all week”.

Twilight getting annoyed by how everyone was asking if he was ok stated as blatantly as possible “I’ll be fine, cub” leaving no room for any discussion.

Wild then said, not convinced, “If you say so.”

After the 10 minutes of Twilight avoiding Time they were off, getting the occasional odd look, but hey when is that new?

Once they finally got out to the gates Twilight quickly pulled out his Hawkeye mask to find where the horde of monsters was located only to find them watching the road like vultures do to find scraps of meat.

“Looks like the information is correct, they are watching the road like a bunch of scavengers” Twilight said while handing the mask to Warriors so he can see the horde.

“Okay so we have orange moblins and red bokoblins, that are currently hitting each other with their clubs, three unarmed lizalfos and one completely armoured lizalfos carrying both a sword and shield” Warriors stated, Wild perked up when he heard about the moblins and bokoblins. “We know from experience that these are the easier types of monsters, but don’t let your guard down, these monsters are corrupted.” Wild deflated a bit at this comment.

After the group decided who was going to fight the armoured lizalfos. They headed down to where the monsters were located, quickly being spotted by the lizalfos who then alerted the rest of the monsters.

Twilight getting a bit nervous about the aspect of these monsters surrounding them whispered “now?” only for warriors to wait a few seconds and then shouted “NOW”.

Before any of the other links reacted twilight whipped out his sword and slashed the lizalfos unmarked by the monster forcing the lizalfos to fall on his butt, much to the satisfaction of Twilight, who then ripped off the sweltering cloak.

Soon after the battle started the links were either fighting on their own or separated from what Twilight could see from the spare glances he allowed himself as he fought at least 7 different enemies including the armoured and an unarmoured lizalfos.

After Twilight realised he wasn’t getting anywhere with brute force he decided to do the Mortal Draw. So he jumped away from the fight and put his sword away all while not unfocusing his gaze from the monsters in front of him. Just as the Lizaflos came within sword distance, pleased that it would get an easy kill, Twilight pulled out his sword and ended the creature's miserable life, not before taking a hit to the stomach from the other lizalfos.

In a haze Twilight reacting on pure reflex stabbed the lizalfos in the eye ending that one's existence as well. As Twilight stumbled barely able to raise his shield in defense from the moblins attack, much less being able to finish them off, he heard a beastly roar that sent a shiver down his spine. Much to Twilight relief as he collapsed to the ground in pain barely staying conscious.

As he blinked away the pain above him he saw Hyrule rush over and start forcing him to drink a red potion getting down half of it before starting to refuse the disgusting liquid. As he started to fall asleep his eyes opened to see a stalfos wearing the Hero's Shade’s helmet.

Twilight wondered if the Shade knocked him down in their spare, as he forced himself to get up and pick up his sword and shield, while wondering why he felt so weak. Maybe he took a hit to the head before he met up with the Golden wolf and he was feeling the concussion that he got? Twilight didn’t know but he would try to focus on the lesson being taught to him.

Twilight then heard a voice sounding far off as he felt something trying to bring him down to the ground again, but he held strong.

The Shade then put down his sword and stated, like he was trying to calm a spooked animal “Calm down pup, it’s me Time, you’re injured just… just lay back down and we can fix you up”. ‘Who was time’ Twilight thought as he squinted towards the skeleton ‘ I know the name, but why can’t I put a face to it?’

The Shade walked forward causing Twilight to panic and jump back knocking something out of his way as he did so. Then he made a point to thrust his sword into the position that usually started the spar. ‘What is he doing?” Twilight wondered. As the force trying to pull him down tripled, but he locked his knees and kept waiting.

More voices, closer this time but words still jumbled, reach his ears. Then the Shade did something unexpected and ripped off his helmet making Twilight lower his sword in wonder, the hero’s shade never took off his helmet. The Shade raised his hand to his face and took off a mask?! Twilight started in shock as he dropped his sword and shield, barely hearing the man say “Com’on pup just lay back down.”. As twilight consciousness started to slip he connected the name to the face and as he felt himself start to crumble he let out a terrified sounding “T-Time?” Before the world around him faded to black and he felt himself fall.

Author’s note: While this is part 4 it is technically part 3.5, and is about basically what happened during part 3 in Twilight’s perspective.

Twilight was startled out of his thoughts again as he heard a voice that sounded like Warriors shout “There you are!”.

Twilight turned around to find Warriors standing there, looking a bit out of breath, “How did you get all the way over here?”

Twilight shrugged and said “I got lost in thought and didn’t realise where I was going.”.

Twilight, once again shrugged and replied “Just thinking about my quest through my own Hyrule, specifically the people I met during the journey.”

Warriors at a loss for words just nodded. Twilight visibly loosened up and then stated “So what did you need me for?”

Twilight nodded “lead the way.”

Wild then walked up to Twilight who had been rearranging his cloak so he didn’t die of heat stroke and said “Hey will you be alright? You have been out of it all week”.

Twilight getting annoyed by how everyone was asking if he was ok stated as blantinly as possible “I’ll be fine, cub” leaving no room for any discussion.

Wild then said, not convinced, “If you say so.”

After the 10 minutes of Twilight avoiding Time they were off, getting the occasional odd look, but hey when is that new?

“Looks like the information is correct, they are watching the road like a bunch of scavengers” Twilight said while handing the mask to Warriors so he can see the horde.

Twilight getting a bit nervous about the aspect of these monsters surrounding them whispered “now?” only for warriors to wait a few seconds and then shouted “NOW”.

Twilight then heard a voice sounding far off as he felt something trying to bring him down to the ground again, but he held strong.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu twilight #lu sky #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu time #lu wild #lu wind #lu warriors #ancestor's legacy

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loveau · 4 years

Text

Do Kyungsoo and the Case of the Missing Toothbrush

Genre: romance!!!! fluff!!!! toothrotting, if you will

Summary: Kyungsoo is normally an organized man who barely loses things in his own house, much less his own toothbrush. He sets out on an adventure with you to find it.

Word Count: 3,605

Summary: Sorry for the month hiatus!! I just finished summer school, so I should be free to write now :D! also asDGKSNGJG I HATE HOW RUSHED THIS IS LMAO (loved the concept, but the writing <.<)

Kyungsoo is a man who keeps his house orderly and clean, not for the sake of guests but rather for his own sake. He knows where everything is and how many of each thing he owns in his cupboards save for the amount of soap there’s left. For some reason he always runs low on that. He knows the contents of the fridge, the number of silverware in the drawers, and how many white socks he owns.

He sighed as he examined the cup by the edge of the sink once more. He also looked by the floor, in the mirror cabinet, and once more in the cup that only held one thing: your toothbrush. Kyungsoo scratched at his head, wondering where on earth his toothbrush could have gone. Had he left it by the side of the sink? It was a habit before he had moved in with you before you. You had seen him place his toothbrush on the side of the sink, promptly rushed out of the bathroom with frothy paste flying into your hair and come back with a silly ladybug mug you’d painted during a pottery date with him a year before. You rinsed quickly and threw your toothbrush into the mug before looking expectantly at him. Kyungsoo chuckled to himself when he looked at the face of the turtle (yes, not a ladybug yet painted like one) on the mug.

He sighed to himself and whispered to himself. “I suppose you won’t tell me where my toothbrush went, will you?” He braced himself against the sink and looked in the mirror. With the door left open, he could see into your shared bedroom where you were sprawled out in the middle. He’d been woken up early and on the floor on a day off thanks to your kicking around. Making his way out of the bathroom, Kyungsoo shook your awake and smiled endearingly at your tousled hair. “Wake up, we have a mystery to solve.”

“Last time you said that, it was you who drank all of the milk and not me.” You grumbled. You tried falling back asleep but decided that the hairs going into your mouth wouldn’t let you. “What happened?”

“Apparently, Toothy and Mrs. Paste have been separated. Her husband has gone missing.” You shot up, wide awake and rubbing sleep out of your eyes. Kyungsoo smiled once more at the silliness.

“No way! You didn’t drop him or throw him away, did you? We just bought new toothbrushes last month!” Kyungsoo followed you as you rushed out of the bed and soon caught you as you tripped as your foot caught the blanket. The adrenaline from rushing to save you from an embarrassing faceplant did nothing to combat the swelling oh his heart as he watched you play into his silly antics. “You don’t suppose he ran off with Dawn? The dish soap from a couple blocks down?”

“Why’d he be there?” You shrugged, soon deciding to pick up your own toothbrush and get ready for the day.

“Where is your toothbrush anyways? I saw you put it in the cup last night. And I swear on my life I was sleeping like a rock at the bottom of a lake, so there’s no way I had anything to do with it.” Your boyfriend chuckled at that. He affirmed your dead point and then stated that still doesn’t explain his toothbrush going missing.

“You think the cat took it?”

“We don’t have a cat.”

“Ghost cat?” A little scoff emitted from Kyungsoo’s lips and he left as you wrapped up your routine. By the time you were done fixing your hair, he came back with a roll of… police tape? “Where did that come from?”

He started blocking off the corner of the sink where the cup was. “Remember, Baekhyun’s Halloween party? He made me buy some of the decorations, so I just took back what was left over.”

“And you’re using it on a case of your missing toothbrush?”

Kyungsoo smirked at you and tapped your hip. “I could also wrap this on your legs to see if we can solve a case of your missing pants?” You smacked his hand in a flustered manner and stormed into the bedroom.

“I’ve complained before that it gets hot! Doesn’t help when you’re a radiating oven even in the summer.” Kyungsoo let a laugh out at that and waited for you to come back in wearing shorts. “Did you check the trash? The cupboard?”

“Already did. Looks like we have a case to solve.” You looked at him expectantly. Kyungsoo grabbed your hand and led you into the kitchen. Before he could open his mouth to suggest anything, you cut him off.

“I highly doubt there’s anything amidst the forks and our bajillion cups.” You kissed him once to make sure he didn’t try to rebut. “And there’s nothing in the cereal either.”

“I was going to suggest the fruits but looks like you’re way ahead of me, partner.”

Shaking your head, you tugged your hand from his grip and planted it on your hips. “What has gotten into you this morning? Normally it’s me starting the games while you want to cuddle and hope you can wrangle me into bed so you can ‘surprise’ me with breakfast.”

“Let’s just say I woke up on the right side of the bed.” You cocked an eyebrow. “Or the floor. You could be a professional MMA fighter with that foot.” You giggled and Kyungsoo led you closer to the cupboards with a gentle grip on your elbow. With another cocked eyebrow, Kyungsoo answered your unasked question. “Why don’t we check the cupboards anyways? In case Toothy really did run off with the dish soap.”

For no reason at all, you decided to play along with your boyfriend’s strange antics. This was definitely a first. Yes, he was capable of pulling off pranks. Yes, it wasn’t frequent. But the times that he did decide to joke around he never kept up the charade this long. Especially when it took so much effort and work.

“This isn’t some plot to get me to rearrange the kitchen like I kept saying I’ve been wanting to do, right?”

“Of course not. We’re looking for Toothy. He’s gone missing and Mrs. Paste is getting worried.” Kyungsoo was searching diligently within the cabinet with the bowls while you hesitantly moved around the pots and pans in search for a familiar green toothbrush. You weren’t sure how long he was going to keep it up, much less how long you were willing to play along with it before wrangling the truth out of him by offering to do the laundry for the next three weeks.

“Why do we have to look in the kitchen?”

Kyungsoo put away the rest of the spatulas he had rearranged. “You’re right. We got ahead of ourselves.” He sat down at the dining table and motioned you over. “To do this properly, you need to take statements and questions.” To make a point, Kyungsoo took out a detective’s cap that you recognized from a couple Halloweens ago. He set the bag back on the chair it was originally hiding on.

“You really went hard with this one,” you said while he adjusted the cap on your head. He gave you a satisfied smile, you’re not sure if it was from making the clunky hat look good on your head or with how themed this was. “Do I have to?” Kyungsoo’s response was to pout at you and grasp your hands pleadingly. You bit your lip and stamped your foot before giving in. “Fine.”

“Love you.”

“You owe me dinner tonight. My favorite.” Kyungsoo agreed with a laugh while rubbing the tops of your knuckles. “So… when’s the last time you saw Toothy?”

He pretended to think hard, even moving a hand to his temple to scratch at it. If this were any other time, you’d compliment his acting skills. For now, you were patiently waiting to see where Kyungsoo would take this. “Well, I had just finished showering and doing my nightly routine. I briefly said goodnight to my beautiful girlfriend, who was already asleep before I got to the bed. I mean, can you believe her? I did the sheets so they’d be clean, put away all the dishes, and even put her phone away for her because she fell asleep watching those cheesy 5 minute DIY videos. You’d think after all I did for her she’d at least wait for me to get into bed so I can get my well-deserved cuddles-”

“Your point, Soo.” You lightly smacked him on the back of his head. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling endearingly at your silly boyfriend, though.

“Anyways, after I checked up on my wonderful yet ungrateful girlfriend-“ Smack. “-I love her so much. I went back into the bathroom to turn off the lights, but I guess I didn’t check up on Toothy since I had placed him back where he was. I did notice the window was open by the shower, though.”

“You’re telling me that your toothbrush snuck out the window?”

“Or he was taken.”

“Why would someone just take your toothbrush?”

“My thoughts exactly! He must have snuck off when he had the opportunity.” Kyungsoo stood up from his chair and took the hat from your head. He smoothed your hair down for a second, but it didn’t matter after you were whisked away into the bedroom. “Let’s get dressed. We have a toothbrush to find.”

“What?” Before you knew it, your boyfriend was chucking clothes at you. Any other time you would have admired the view of him undressing, but you didn’t see why you’d have to be led along a string of mystery on a day off. “Kyungsoo, after the four years I’ve known you and two and a half we’ve lived together, you’ve never been this raring to go so excitedly.”

After getting a simple long sleeve over his head, Kyungsoo turned back and gave you a fond smile. “Not even when I woke you up to take you to the river when I heard there were baby ducklings?”

“It was 1pm and I was the one who told you. It’s…” You glanced at the clock while changing into the clothes he’d thrown you, completely engrossed in your conversation to realize you were still going along with it. “It’s almost 8:30am right now and I still have no idea what we’re doing.”

“We, my dear, are going on an adventure.”

“To look for your toothbrush?”

He kissed your forehead and gave you a kiss. “You got it.”

Your boyfriend took you by the hand and led you out the door. The two of you spent some time walking. Every now and then, the two of you passed by another couple or parent with their child. You said hi to every kid who would look back at you, and one of the kids informed you there was a birthday party and how excited they were to eat cake. Kyungsoo merely watched you interact with the kids and the occasional dog with clear adoration in his eyes. It took a while to walk into the block where a bunch of shops were, and you kept yourself from window shopping while Kyungsoo walked on.

“You know, we can go into the stores if you wanted.” You looked back at your boyfriend with suspicion in your eyes.

“Aren’t we supposed to be looking for Toothy?” Kyungsoo smiled at brought your interlocked hands to press a kiss on the back of your hand.

“We can go anywhere you want to. You’re leading the investigation. Where do you think Toothy went?” A hesitant hum sounded from your lips and Kyungsoo took this as initiative to bring you into a little bakery. “Why in here?”

“Toothy always had a knack for fighting off those sweets. Maybe he has a grudge against them and wanted to fight them off?” Kyungsoo began perusing the lineup of pastries and cakes along the display case. You slowly turned your eyes to the case as well, occasionally looking questionably at the man next to you as he spent his time browsing the selection. Eventually you pointed at a cute looking strawberry slice of cake and Kyungsoo bought it for you. When you walked out, you were feeding bits of it to Kyungsoo. His smug smile only grew when the two of you finished the slice and walked into more stores.

The first couple of stores he coaxed you into them with similar points as the bakery one. You began to wonder whether or not Kyungsoo’s plan for the day was to take you shopping. However, you spent most of the time browsing and when you were done Kyungsoo took you around to another store to do the same thing. You didn’t spend much, focusing mainly on what your boyfriend was up to today. Save for the cake and a couple of snacks, there wasn’t much out of your wallet. After exiting a little sandwich store the both of you stopped during lunch break (to which Kyungsoo claimed you needed to replenish your energy after using your brains deducing where Toothy would have gone), you brought up the idea of going grocery shopping early.

“Perfect. I don’t see why we shouldn’t. Perhaps it’ll bring us one step closer to Toothy.”

“I can’t believe you’re proudly saying that in public. Last time I brought it up and you had friends around, they asked if you called the mouthwash Lizzie Terine.”

“Well, we have a mystery to solve, don’t we?” You were going to comment further until you saw your boyfriend take out a notepad. A glance at it would let anyone see that it was a grocery list with little checkmarks, circles, and arrows. However, upon further inspection you saw that the little “grocery list” did include ingredients for cooking and other knick knacks. They also looked like…

“You aren’t seriously taking notes for the case of your missing toothbrush?”

Kyungsoo looks at you as if you’re the one who’s been acting weird all day. “Of course I would! Did you want to see them?” You can’t really say no when the notes were shoved into your face.

Some lines of the list were perfectly normal, with things such as eggs or more laundry detergent. Other things read: ‘Cookies… Toothy had a particularly hard time battling them. Maybe a grudge.’ Or ‘Dental floss -> Toothy might be at an old friend’s family reunion.’ You felt your eyebrow twitch at the notes and sighed to yourself. This was going on much longer than you thought, and it was kind of getting old.

“Kyungsoo-“

“Let’s go shopping then!” He cheered and tugged you forward, making sure to pocket his notepad for later. By the time the both of you got to the store, you decided to focus solely on shopping instead of playing with Kyungsoo like you’d been all day. Kyungsoo didn’t notice that you would shift gears anytime he brought up the “case”, and if he did, he didn’t bother to make it shown.

“We need more seasonings, right?” Kyungsoo hummed. He checked the list and nodded while reaching up on the shelves of the market to snag a couple bottles and inspect them side by side. At this moment, Kyungsoo looked totally normal and not your strange boyfriend who went bonkers over a toothbrush. Well, except for the fake toy pipe he brought along that went with the detective’s outfit. He shuffled the pipe in his mouth and you weren’t sure whether it was attractive or goofy. After he chose a seasoning, Kyungsoo dropped it in the basket and walked to the next aisle with his hand in yours.

“Can’t we just use the spare pack of toothbrushes we bought?” Kyungsoo squeezed your hand and a teasing smile rested upon his lips. “That way you can stop fussing over… Toothy.”

“You used them to paint one of those DIY projects you saw on social media, again. Remember?” Thinking back on it, he was right. You had been hunched over some painting project and were using the bristles of the new toothbrushes to spray a small amount of paint to look like stars. You ended up having to clean your sleeves and table afterwards, but Kyungsoo decided to hang up your mini painting in the hall anyways.

“Ah, I remember now,” you said and took two packs of new toothbrushes to put in the basket. “We really need to invest in one of the electric brushes, though.” Kyungsoo hummed and asked if you wanted one. When you shrugged in response, Kyungsoo spent time perusing the ones available at the store until he decided you guys would just order one online. For now, the plastic toothbrushes from the shelves would do just fine.

Kyungsoo is silent the rest of the way home. He doesn’t even bring up Toothy like he had been doing all day. You’re unsure what caused this sudden shift in behavior. Before he was so insistent on making you play along, but now he looked nervous.

“I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re worried about.” His attention snapped to yours and his furrowed eyebrows shot up instead. “You look nervous. If it’s because of the game you’d been playing for so long, don’t worry. I was just confused and frustrated why I wasn’t getting answers, but I’m not mad at you because I think it’s dumb.”

Your boyfriend only nods in response and returns his gaze back ahead of him. He takes his hand from yours to wipe it quickly against his pant leg. It’s sweaty. You wanted to continue reassuring him but decided against it since you were pretty sure your last phrase went in one ear and out the other. When the two of you got to the door, Kyungsoo paused.

“I love you, you know.”

“I know.” You were the one now feeling nervous. Kyungsoo’s multiple and drastic changes in behavior made you curious yet afraid for what it all meant. Kyungsoo gave you a warm kiss on the cheek and headed inside. He set the bags on the counter and twiddled with his thumbs, wondering which bag to unload first. You took the bag with the toiletries inside of it and left Kyungsoo to unload the food. “I’ll do this one. That way I don’t have to rearrange the fridge.”

He hummed and turned stiffly towards the fridge. This time, you were the one who gave a soft kiss to the cheek. You hoped that was enough to calm his nerves so that he would tell you what was bugging him earlier. As you headed down the hall, you missed the way Kyungsoo whipped his head around to watch you leave.

“Alright, let’s get you out of your plastic prison, Toothy 2.0.” You opened up the plastic bag to dig around for the little case. Looking up at the ladybug mug your own toothbrush resided in, you paused your actions. “Kyungsoo!” He called back from the kitchen, and you heard the clanging of items in the fridge. “Your toothbrush is in here. It’s in the cup!”

You took another close look at the cup and saw that yes, indeed there was a toothbrush sitting in the cup alongside yours. In fact, you knew without a doubt that it was Kyungsoo’s. You hesitantly reached out to it, wondering if you had gone crazy over your boyfriend’s weird antics and started hallucinating about the toothbrush. Once your fingers reached it, you noticed that it was in fact real. Kyungsoo finally joined you in the bathroom, a telltale sign by the shuffling of his socks against the floor. Before you could grab it and show it to him, Kyungsoo pulled his toothbrush out for you.

“How did you miss it? I swear it was there before we left.” Kyungsoo fiddled with the toothbrush for a while. You noticed him tug at it and he hid whatever he pulled off of it in his closed fist.

“Toothy never went missing.” Kyungsoo still couldn’t meet your eyes since the walk and he chewed at his bottom lip. “I… asked him to run an errand for me.”

“Kyungsoo, I’m still so confused. You’ve been acting so strange all morning and then you couldn’t even talk to me. What’s going on?” He took a deep breath and steadied himself, deciding that he wouldn’t let his nerves get to him. It was all or nothing now.

“The errand… was to hide something while I took you out today.” He now brought his eyes to your face. The depths of your eyes always took his breath away, especially in that moment. He felt like he was drowning in you. He cleared his throat and then put Toothy back in the cup. Once his hand was free, he filled it with your fingers and laced them with his own.

Patiently, you watched. He licked his lips nervously once more. Soon, he was on his knees. Or rather… one. He brought his closed fist up and in between his fingers there was a gleam. This time it was your breath that was unsteady, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Kyungsoo either for your eyes were focused solely on the ring.

“Kyungsoo…”

“I was too nervous to do this myself… so my trusty companion helped me out for today.” Your boyfriend took one last breath and looked at you with a confidence that stilled time. “So… will you marry me?”

#exo #kyungsoo #exo imagines #exo scenarios #kyungsoo imagines #exo fluff #kyungsoo fluff #kyungsoo scenarios #kyungsoo x reader #do kyungsoo #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #female pronouns #fluff #elli writes

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nite-shay · 4 years

Text

His Hero Part 3 -Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

AN: I am so so so so so sorry for how long this took! :/ I wish I had a valid excuse for this but I don’t… I hope ya’ll enjoy it!

Links: Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

Also side note I know I’m messed up a few little things but I will edit tomorrow as I go through it. Its late D: But I promised myself I would post this today.

******

Two days…

Two long, boring desk duty days.

Kirishima sighed loudly as he signed and initialed what had to be the same form for the tenth time in the same case file!

Ah, bureaucracy of the hero world at its finest.

Now UA prepared him for a lot of things.

How to use his quirk fully, fighting villains, saving people, etc.

But one thing they didn’t prepare him for was the amount of paperwork that came with his hero career.

Hmm… maybe that’s why they gave so much homework…

Sign. Initial. Sign. Checkmark. Checkmark. Sign. Date. Wait, was he suppose to sign here or there? Crap, is that the right date? Did he just date everything wrong?! No wait, false alarm, the date is correct.

His chair gave a loud creak as he stretched his back, glancing up at the clock. He’d been at this for hours now, and he still hadn’t even made a dent in the wall of folders on his desk.

His mind started to wander as he stared up at the clock hands that he swore he saw moved backward a few times.

I wonder how (Y/N) doing…

It was crazy how badly he wanted to call up to the hospital and check on you, but… he was nervous. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he’s some creepy ex stalker who you literally barely knew you.

He just… was worried about you. He wasn’t looking for another hookup! No, no, no! He just wanted to see how you were. He did care about you, not in a creepy way just in a general way!

Luckily he wasn’t completely in the dark about your condition, thanks to his green-haired bro. The morning after the robbery, Kirishima woke up to a thoughtful text on your condition. He even got an update on your son, who loved his news toys and played hard with them till he passed out in his mother’s arms.

God, he wished he could have seen it.

He sighed loudly before tossing the file in the ‘completed’ section while reaching for the next one. He blinked as he lifted up the hefty folder.

It was the toy store robbery.

Damn, this was going to be a long one—numerous villains, along with multiple injured civilians and a fair bit of collateral damage. This was going to take the rest of the day. Thankfully, though, Fatgum should be just getting back from lunch, and the store just had a damn good security system installed last week.

“Well, would ya look at that? I guess paper really does beat rock.” A slightly slimmer Fatgum chuckled as he walked in their shared office, arms full of takeaway bags.

“Ha Ha,” Kirishima laughed sarcastically, glancing over to the older hero. “Got enough food, Toyo?”

“I used quite a bit of energy yesterday on that emergency call. Gotta bulk back up.” He dumped the food on to the small table across the room. “Plus, we’re going to be here a while when those reports.”

“Yeaaaaah. Just got to the toy store one. Did the detective ever send the surveillance footage over?”

“Yeap, got it this morning. Check your email. I think you’re on it too.“

"Sweet. I’ll load it up.”

“And I got the snacks,” He grinned as he held up one of the bags.

After some quick furniture rearrangement, two sat side by side in their chairs, video buffed, snacks to side, pen and paper at the ready for notes. This was still work after all. They chose to use the blondes’ monitor since it was bigger. He had seniority, so he typically got the good stuff, which the redhead was cool with.

The first 20 minutes of the video was pretty boring so then ended up fast-forwarding until a familiar pair entered the frame.

It was you and your son. The two of you were slowly making your way down the sidewalk towards the store. Kirishima, who’d previously been slouched and looking rather bored, was not hyper-focused on the screen in front of them. Which didn’t go unnoticed by his mentor, who just snickered quietly to himself.

“Look! There they are!” The younger hero couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two you. You had a sly smile on while your son, who was looking rather frustrated, said something to you. He watched as your lips moved, but nothing came from the speakers. What were the two of you talking about?

Damn, he wished there was audio.

“They look pretty happy, don’t they?” Fat gum comment just as you pointed to the shop, the kids’ faces lit up like a Christmas tree. The kid wasted no time as he grabbed your hand and dragged you inside the store.

“Yeah, they really do.” Kirishima grinned as he pressed a key, switching the view to inside. The redhead beamed as the two of you bounced from isle to isle, your son getting physically more and more excited.

Something churned in him.

Something that’s been happening here a lot recently. He noticed it a few weeks ago.

How his gaze would linger on families he’d pass down the street or on Bakugou as he interacted with his daughter. He really didn’t know what it was at first and just tried to ignore it.

But when he ran into you and your son two days ago, those emotions were brought to the forefront. And these last two days of drowning himself in work wasn’t just to get you off his mind. It was to drown out his feelings.

He… wanted this…

A wife…. A kid… A family…

Not that he doesn’t have a family! He’s still got both of his parents plus his sister he talks to on a pretty regular basis. He’s also really close with his friends to the point where he thought of them as family. Hell, his literal best friend lives right next door to him. You’d think he has it all?

A loving and supportive family. Amazing friends. An awesome career that is literally his dream.

Sounds fantastic, right?

But sometimes, after the long hard days. His apartment just felt empty.

He was greeted with a quiet (Bakugou’s yelling is more like background noise to him now) home.

No one to greet him when he gets home after a long day.

No one to just cuddle and share thoughts with. Even the stupid or random ones.

No one to share meals with while they go over plans or talk about their days.

No one to have petty arguments with like who ate all the cereal and didn’t put it on the list, who left the cap off the toothpaste, not replacing the toilet paper.

No one but himself.

He had a few roommates for a while, but they all moved out to live with their s/o. He’d tried dating and even had a girlfriend move in with him once, but that ended badly. Hero life was hard. Being the significant other of a hero, well, that could be even harder some days. They broke up not long after, and he’d been single ever since.

He mentally sighed. Guess it was the bachelor’s life him…

He continued to watch the two of you browse another aisle as you made your way to the back of the store. From the angle of the camera, he could barely see you now. His hand itched to switch the view to the rear camera, but he restrained himself. This was his job; he needs to watch for the villains, not ogle you. No matter how beautiful you were. How soft and sweet your voice was. Or how quickly that demeanor changed when it came to the safety of your son. He knows first hand you don’t come between a momma bear and her cub. He wouldn’t lie, seeing you go into protective mode, just… damn.

Thankfully, before that thought could go any further, two figures walked through the front door and into the frame. It was the villains. They could only watch as the villains made their way over to the front desk and the shopkeeper.

The villains split up, the smaller one stayed near the desk while the larger one stalked around closer to the racks. He could see the villains and the shopkeeper talking but couldn’t make out what was being said. Lip reading wasn’t his thing. But it was apparent the villains were trying to intimidate the scared-looking man.

A flash in the corner of the screen brought his attachment back to you as you and your son moved closer to the front and ultimately closer into danger.

“No..go back…” Kirishima whispered under his breath as he watched the next bit unfold. The brute yelled something, gave his partner before giving the rack on end a hard shove. Toys and plushies tumbled from their metal shelves as the racking toppled over into the one beside it.

He already knew what was coming.

That rack fell into the next, which fell into the next one. Line by line, row by row. All the shelves dominoed into each.

His eye darted from the villain back to where you were, his body on full alert. Your head jerks to the side, no doubt from the sound of the loud crashing. With reflexes that surprised even him, he watched as you grabbed your son just as the shelf beside you gave in to the weight of the rows before it.

“Is there any other view on them?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking. Yeah they were suppose to keep their eyes on the villain's for the report but...

“Yeah, there’s one in the back.” Fat was already reaching for the keyboard as he glared at the screen, his food seemingly forgotten. The screen flashed for switching over to the back of the shop.

It was total chaos. Toys, plushies, and other items were scattered everywhere from the falling rows. And there in the middle of the disaster area was you and your son. Nearly all of you laid beneath the rack currently pinning you to the floor, save for your one arm and your head. Your son wasn’t in any better of a position; he could only see the top of his head. Suddenly the video stopped. Fatgum had paused the video before playing back the part of you, grabbing your son, right before the rack fell.

“Good reflexes.” The older man sighed in relief. “Little guy would have been crushed if he’d stayed .” Kirishima could only nod as they continued to watch. The video was back to where it was before, with the two of you being pinned under the rack. Even though he couldn’t seem much of you, he knew the two of you were scared. How could you not be? Damn, he should have gotten there faster!

If he’d been faster, maybe… you wouldn’t have gotten hurt as bad, or your son wouldn’t have been as scared. Though, to be honest, it was just chance they’d been in the area. Guess you could say it was a right place at the right time kind deal. The two heroes just finished their shift and were heading back to the agency. They’d gotten into a debate on food and made a wrong turn, which put them on that street. A loud crash caught the attention of a civilian across who called to them from across the street.

If they hadn’t been there, how long would it have taken for the call to come in? How long would you have been pinned there? How long would your son have to watch you suffer, alone, scared?

A shadow in the corner of the screen shook him from his thoughts. It was the bigger villain making his way towards the back of the store.

“Hide…” Kirishima mumbled as they watched the villain make his way over to you. You shifted, hiding your son further into the small hollow, but leaving you exposed and unprotected.

“The detective said in the email that a part of this was pretty hard to watch, I’m guessing that’s about to come up…” Fatgum muttered sadly, putting his snacks down on the table. They watched as the villain stopped in front of you. The man was clearly saying something to you, but you only kept your head down, shielding your young son. The villain tensed for a moment. Was it something you did? Or maybe you said? Whatever it was clearly angered him as he gave you a wicked grin before putting his foot on the rack above you. Before, the redhead wished there was sound, but now, he was grateful for the silence.

"That bastard!“ He saw red as he watched you scream from the man applying more force to the shelf.

"Easy Red, they’re both ok, that guy won’t be able t-.” The older man tried to calm down his partner, well, until the villain kicked you in the face. That made the older hero jump to his feet. “That fiend! Just you wait till we get there! You’ll regret that!” As enraged as Kirishima was, he couldn’t help but smile and chuckle at how quick his mentor’s demeanor changed.

After picking his char up off the floor, Fat sat back down, and the two returned to watching the video. It wasn’t long, for they saw the villain’s lip moves, still looking over for walking off-screen. You weren’t moving, and your face was now covered in blood.

Nothing moved on the screen for the longest time. Fat was just about to reach over and speed up the video when something caught his eye.

It was your son.

Kirishima’s heart broke as he watched the small boy pull himself out from under the wreckage. He was shaking, and his clothes were torn, but thankfully, he wasn’t hurt. Well, not physically anyway. How the kid managed to walk away from that unscathed was a miracle. (Y/S/N) looked in the villain’s direction before turning back to you. It was hard to see the kids face at this angle, but the heroes didn’t need to. They knew he was crying as he gently shook you, trying to wake you up.

Sadly you weren’t waking up, not then anyway.

If he’d been in that kid’s shoes at his age, he would have given up right then and there.

But not this kid.

No, instead, he grabbed your arm and started pulling you. Trying to drag you up from under the rack.

This elementary school kid, who was just the victim of a villain attack, was trying with all his might to save his mom. He jerked and strained as he tried to pull you from under the massive weight, but you weren’t budging. He gave one final strong pull before slipping on remnants of a displaying, causing him to fall back on his butt. Kirishima had to physically stop himself from moving.

The kid was back on his feet in a flash, this time though he was trying to lift the rack. He knew he couldn’t lift the shelf; even with a quirk, it would be impossible for him given his size. But there he was still pushing with everything he had.

“Poor little guy. He must have been terrified but look at him. He’s really giving it his all."

"He’s an awesome kid. If it’d been me, I’d be too scared to move.” Kirishima’s voice was full of pride but held a trace of sadness. The redhead was proud of the squirt. Most kids, hell, most adults would have been paralyzed with fear.

But not him.

Despite the fear.

Despite the pain.

Despite the hopelessness.

He still kept trying.

He’d make a hell of a hero one day…

A flash of red in the corner of the screen jolted him from his thoughts.

It was himself. They’d finally arrived to help. While the video played out in front of them, the rest of his senses played his memory. He could hear the kids cry for help. He could feel the weight of the shelf as he moved behind the kid to rescue you. The warmth yet limpness of your body as he pulled you from the wreckage. The wailing of your son calling out for you. The relief when he felt your pulse still beating beneath the fragile skin of your neck. The overwhelming emotions as tried to comfort the small, terrified child in his arms.

Fatgum paused the video once everyone was out of frame. You on a stretcher and him with your son still in his arms.

“You did really good out there today, Red.” Fatgum grinned at him before reaching over to the file on the desk, flipping through the report.

“Thanks.” Kirishima sighed. “I just wish I could have done more. Maybe if I’d been faster, (Y/N) and (S/N) wouldn’t have had to suffer as much. Some hero I am…"

"Don’t say that! You did everything you could and believe me when I say this, at that moment, you truly became that kids hero.”

“Hmm…" Fatgum gave the folder in his hand a puzzled look before hit rewind on the footage.

"What’s up?” Kirishima glanced up at the larger hero.

“It’s nothing really. Just wondering something. The paramedics said the kid was ok right?”

“Yeah, they checked over him at the scene. His clothes were torn up some, but surprisingly, the little guy didn’t have a scratch on him.” A light bulb went off. “Wait, How did he do that? He was under that rack too!”

“That’s what I was wondering. Maybe he used his quirk? If he did, given the shape he momma was in, it might have saved his life.”

“Hmm… well, he did say that his quirk was kind of like mine. But I didn’t see him use it.” He thought back. Fat paused the video to right as the rack was falling on to the two of you. It was still hard to watch, but they went through it frame by frame. “I can’t see anything resembling a quirk…”

“Hmm… I can’t tell anything. If he has a defensive quirk, it doesn’t really stand out. Plus, with all the objects falling around them, it makes it harder to tell.

"Maybe his clothes are hiding it?”

“Hey, can you go to the part where he crawls out? I think there was a pretty good shot of him there.” Fatgum nod hit a few keys to comply. “There! Right there!” They let the video play out from there.

Until they saw it. For a split second, the kid is looking right at the camera, showing his whole face. And something… just looked off. Was something wrong with the camera? Maybe it was a trick of the light or the lens?

“Can we zoom in on his face?” Kirishima leaned forward, looking closely at the screen as Fat zoomed in on the boy’s face. The screen was blurry for a minute, but slowly the video started to render, making the image clearer.

What? Was his skin…. hardening?

No, it was just hardening.. it was sharpening too… Just like his…

Kirishima felt his heart take a free fall into his stomach.

The kid didn’t have a quirk similar to his.

No, his quirk was exactly like his!

The room started to spin as he felt like every molecule of breathable air suddenly took an exit stage right, right out of the room.

“Hey… Kirishima… when did you meet (L/N) again?” Kirishima could barely hear Fat’s question over the ringing in his ears.

Links: Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

Tags: @hot-pocket01

29 notes · View notes

gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 4 years

Link

Rating: G

Summary: While Marinette is helping Adrien and the boys clean up after the guys-only party, she accidentally crashes a kwamis-only party. (Party Crasher identity reveal fic)

Word Count: 3361

Notes: I haven’t written one of these in a while, but it was for an anon from the episode-divergent identity reveal fic requests. I’ll probably still keep doing these periodically, but I still have a few mlbforblm commissions/prizes to finish up, so it might be a while.

XXX

“I can put those up!” Marinette offered quickly as Adrien scooped up a pile of costumes. It was hard to see so much evidence of the party she’d been locked out of, but she was determined to make the most of it now.

She’d gotten to spend time with Adrien in the end. Hopefully next time she could do it without lying, but she couldn’t pretend she regretted it.

He shot her one of his award-winning smiles, the ones that made her knees weak. “Thanks, Marinette. You can just leave them in the closet. I’ll fold them later.”

“No problem!”

She accepted the bundle of sequins and silk without a stutter. It was hard to feel embarrassed when he’d seen her dressed as “Marino” and still wanted her around.

He’d seen her in her pajamas, bought her constipation medicine, let her sleep on his shoulder, and most recently, watched her dance to Station Nation as a mustachioed biker. If all of that hadn’t convinced him she was completely insane, maybe he really could like her.

That thought had her walking on clouds as she rearranged the pile of clothes in her arms to open the closet.

When she turned the handle, the clothes promptly fell to the ground.

“Go, go, go, go!” Kaalki was chanting as Plagg sprayed whipped cream into Xuppu’s mouth. It would’ve been ridiculous enough even if they weren’t inside Adrien’s closet.

But they were. Why? How? If anyone else had seen them here—!

Sass hissed at the others, trying to grab their attention. Kaalki kept chanting until Marinette quietly shut the door behind her, leaving them in the dim lights rimming the top shelves.

“Marinette.” Sass touched his arms together and bowed his head respectfully.

“What’s going on?” She finally demanded. “I swear, Plagg, if you crashed Adrien’s party because you wanted cheese again—”

“Y-yeah!” Plagg tried to hide the whipped cream behind his back. Considering the can was twice his height, it didn’t do much good. “You know me. Can’t resist a good wedge of Camembert. I already ate it all though, so don’t expect me to share!”

Tikki flew out of Marinette’s purse. Her antennae twitched with anger.

“You remember what happened last time you went across Paris to steal cheese! You got us all captured by a supervillain!”

“Relax, sugarcube! Hawkmoth already crashed this party once. He won’t think to do it again. Besides, Master Fu’s close enough to help if anything went wrong.”

“We rarely get out of the Miracle Box at the same time.” Kaalki pressed her hooves together. “Pleeease, Tikki, don’t be mad.”

“Aww, who cares if she’s mad? Tikki’s always been a party pooper.” Xuppu crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue.

“You mean she’s always had good sense.” Wayzz stuck his head out from inside… a Barbie Dream House?

Yep, it was definitely a dollhouse peaking out from under the hangers of shirts. Marinette hadn’t expected Adrien to play with dolls. The thought was adorable enough to make her grin before she remembered she was supposed to be angry.

“I can’t believe you, Wayzz,” Tikki huffed. “You’re Master Fu’s kwami! You’re supposed to know better! Did Carapace corrupt you already?”

Wayzz gave a sheepish smile. “Well, Master Carapace does know how to ‘let loose’… but in this case, it was all Kaalki’s idea.”

“Me?” Kaalki looked aghast. “I only wanted to see the inside of a house as glorious as Monsieur Agreste’s! It was Xuppu who decided to throw a party.”

“Yeah, it’s my first time out of the box in a century! I deserve to celebrate!”

Marinette’s eyes flickered between the kwamis as all of them—including Tikki—dissolved into bickering.

“Quiet!” She said as forcefully as she could without raising her voice. Adrien’s door seemed thick enough to block sound—she hadn’t heard the kwamis from outside, anyway—but she didn’t want to push her luck. “It doesn’t matter whose fault this is. The point is, I can’t let you all throw a party in a civilian’s closet. It’s too dangerous.”

“More dangerous than Master Fu coming to a party here himself?” Wayzz asked.

Marinette sighed. She’d been surprised to see Master Fu today, too. She supposed she couldn’t expect the kwamis to be better behaved than their Master.

“Do you all have your miraculouses?” She asked. “Or did you leave them with your temporary holders?”

“I have been guarding them,” Wayzz said in resignation. He flew back into the Barbie house and returned with a stack of four hexagonal boxes.

“Alright, everyone,” Marinette looked over each of the kwamis, “now I’m the party crasher. It’s time you all went back to Master Fu. No arguing.”

“That isss likely for the besssst.” Sass’s head hung. “Until next time, Plagg. Tikki.”

He accepted his miraculous box dolefully, then flew out through the back wall.

“So not cool.” Xuppu stuck his tongue out at Marinette one last time for good measure. It was hard to blame him. If he hadn’t been out in over a hundred years, how could he really understand how dangerous it was?

Except he’d been there for the incident with Kwami Buster. So either he was lying, or he didn’t count helping Multimouse fight the akuma.

“At least let me take this fabulous ‘whipp-ed cream’ back to our world?” Kaalki asked with huge, pleading eyes.

“Alright. That can’t hurt.” Marinette nodded.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” She nuzzled Marinette’s cheek before balancing the miraculous and the spray can together. Marinette wasn’t quite sure how the kwami managed to get them through the wall, but she did.

“My humblest apologies for their behavior,” Wayzz said before leaving as well. Maybe he was afraid that if he hesitated, Tikki or Marinette would chew him out again.

That only left one kwami hovering in front of her.

“Hehe. Guess I should get back to Chat Noir. Smell ya later, sugarcube!”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Tikki grabbed his tail. “I know that no matter what they said, you’re the one behind this. You’ve been nothing but irresponsible since you’ve been out! I know your owner is lenient with you, but you can’t keep doing this.”

“Easy for you to say.” Plagg tugged his tail back. “I’m the kwami of destruction. Rules are made to be broken!”

“Could you two be quiet?” Marinette rubbed her temples. “If someone hears you, we’ll all be in trouble. Now just—use your head next time, okay Plagg?”

“Fine.” He huffed before finally flying out through the wall.

“That was a close one,” Tikki said. “I can’t believe they’d throw a party like that! And not even invite me!”

Marinette raised her eyebrows, and the kwami giggled sheepishly.

“I mean… oh, I wish we could have parties too, Marinette.” She slumped. “But I know it’s not safe. Even when we gathered together for Nooroo’s cycle, we left you and Chat Noir alone and created an opening for Hawkmoth.”

“Oh, Tikki.” Marinette opened her arms, and her kwami nuzzled the crook of her neck. It had to be lonely, spending most of her day stuck in a purse, never seeing her friends…

In fact, it sounded all too much like the life Adrien had thrown this party to escape from. Worse, because Adrien at least got to see their friends at school. Tikki never got to visit the other kwamis.

“Maybe a surprise party is too dangerous, but we could see how Master Fu feels about having a few kwamis stay with us sometimes,” Marinette suggested. “If I’m supposed to be the next Guardian, it would be a good idea anyway, right? I’ll get to know the kwamis, you’ll get to hang out with your friends…”

Tikki’s eyes glistened in the dim light. “You’d really do that for me?”

“Of course I would! I know we’re friends, but you deserve to see your other friends, too.” Marinette crouched down, fiddling with the door of the Barbie house. “Maybe I can even get you a cute dollhouse like this for you guys to have sleepovers in.”

It was huge; she would’ve killed to have one like it as a kid. ...Okay, maybe she still would. Not only would it be the perfect size for Tikki, but it would go well with her Ladybug and Chat Noir dolls, and…

Apparently Adrien thought so, too. A Ladybug figurine sat at the kitchen table with a model Chat Noir. They both looked like top-of-the-line action figures. Of course, Adrien could afford the best.

Curious, Marinette poked around a bit more. A hot pink car with sharpied-on black spots sat in the garage. The bedroom, oddly, didn’t have a bed—not a toy one, anyway. It looked more like a black sock wadded up into a little lump.

“It is a sock.”

“Don’t touch it, Marinette! It might be important to him. What if he finds out you went through his things?”

“Oh, it’s not like this is the first time. Besides, aren’t you curious what his fancy dollhouse is doing with a sock for a bed?” She picked it up. “I wonder if it’s supposed to be some kind of sleeping bag…?”

That was when she noticed the green embroidery along the toe. It was haphazard and awkward, as if done by a beginner.

“Oh no.” Tikki shut her eyes as Marinette finally parsed out what the embroidery said. It was only one word long.

Plagg.

“Oh. That makes more sense.” Marinette laughed. “Plagg must have left it behind after their party. Of course Adrien wouldn’t have a sock in his dollhouse. Do you think Chat Noir made it? That’s really cute of him, actually.”

“Y-yeah, I’m sure Chat Noir made it. You should just put it back. I’m sure Plagg will come back for it.”

“But then Adrien might see him! I should bring it back during patrol. Then I’ll have proof that his kwami was off partying, too.”

Satisfied, Marinette was about to stick it in her pocket. But then the door opened.

“Marinette?” Adrien stood silhouetted by the outside light. “Oh, good. I was worried you got lost in here—”

His eyes landed on the sock in her fist. He scrambled to shut the door behind him.

“Marinette, it’s not what you think!” He waved his hands, but Marinette could hardly process that. She was in a cramped closet with Adrien! Well, not exactly cramped—his closet could’ve fit, like, five of hers in it—but still, it was just the two of them alone, and—what if her breath stunk? He could probably smell it since he was so close, but he was busy staring…

At Tikki.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Marinette, you’re…” He laughed and ran a hand through his hair, pointing his other between Tikki and her. “You’re Ladybug. You’re Ladybug!”

Marinette panicked. Acting on instinct, she went to slap her hand over his mouth—forgetting that she was still holding Plagg’s sock.

Her soul left her body. She’d basically shoved a smelly sock in her crush’s mouth! This was worse than being outed as Marino, the mustachioed biker. Probably even worse than Adrien discovering she was Ladybug.

“Adrien—I’m so sorry—I—Tikki, is there a Lucky Charm that can make it so that didn’t happen?”

“I’m not Sass. I can’t turn back time.” Tikki sighed. “Oh, Plagg is never going to let me live this down...”

Adrien spat the sock out into his palm. “It’s okay, Marinette. I should’ve known better than to startle you. And—and I’m really sorry, too. I know you didn’t want us to share our identities.”

“But I already know you’ve been a superhero before. When I gave you the snake miraculous?” Marinette’s brow furrowed. Maybe that was why Sass had felt comfortable hiding in Adrien’s closet. But they’d barely been together for a few minutes, unless Sass also remembered all 25,913 time loops…

Adrien deserved a hundred parties after having to go through that.

Tikki slapped her forehead for some reason. Adrien’s head tilted.

“That’s not really the same thing as knowing I’m Chat Noir.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped. Adrien was… Adrien was…

Oh. That… actually explained some things. And left her more confused about others.

But Plagg flew out of Adrien’s overshirt, shattering whatever was left of her denial.

“Hey, sugarcube. Long time no see.” He grinned.

Tikki smacked her head again. “We were so close.”

“Yep. Your holder’s pretty stupid. I really thought she wasn’t gonna figure it out.”

“Marinette’s not stupid!” Adrien scowled at Plagg. “She’s the perfect Ladybug. Besides, she found out who I am because of your stinky sock!”

Marinette could barely breathe. Adrien called her perfect.

Adrien was also her partner. Adrien made bad puns and knew how to moonwalk. Adrien had tried to kiss her.

“Plagg’s right. I am stupid.”

“My Lady, no.” Adrien stepped forward to wrap his arms around her. Adrien’s arms. Adrien’s scent. As if her brain wasn’t already fizzling out as it was.

“It’s my fault,” he continued. “I should’ve known better than to have you come in here. Plagg’s Barbie house is more conspicuous than I thought, I guess.” He winced.

“Oh, heh, about that…” Plagg trailed off before pointing at Tikki. “It’s sugarcube’s fault!”

“Plagg!”

“What? It is! Pigtails was never gonna put two and two together. If my kid didn’t see you—”

“He already assumed Marinette knew, since she’s holding your stinky sock!”

“Should we just let them duke it out?” Adrien whispered with a small grin.

Marinette giggled. Maybe she should’ve been more worried, all things considered—but Adrien was Chat Noir. And he was still hugging her. She might’ve been a bit more lenient about their secret identities had she known who her partner would turn out to be.

Maybe Plagg was right, and some rules were made to be broken.

“If you think this is bad, you should’ve seen all the kwamis in here earlier.”

“All the kwamis?” Adrien’s eyes widened. “You mean, not just Plagg?”

“You didn’t have a clue, did you? You weren’t the only one who decided to throw a party today.”

“I didn’t actually decide to. Nino and the guys just showed up. But if you crashed a kwami party… I’m just lucky it’s you who came in here.”

That was true. It could’ve been much worse if any of the other boys had found the kwamis. They might have told someone, who could’ve told someone else, who might have been smarter than her and assumed Adrien was a miraculous holder.

She could still hardly believe she’d missed it. In the dim lighting, she could paint Chat Noir’s mask over his eyes. When he’d been Mister Bug, his irises had even been the same.

“Marinette?” Adrien bit his lip. “Is this… I mean, are we okay? I’m glad you’re not freaking out or anything, but… are we going to have to give up our kwamis?”

Not give up their miraculouses. Their kwamis. Marinette didn’t miss how Plagg curled protectively into the crook of Adrien’s neck. Plagg’s bright green eyes squinted out at her, as if daring her to try.

“No. No, I won’t let that happen,” she promised. After the incident with Feast, Marinette doubted the Master would dare try to separate them from their kwamis again.

“Me either,” Plagg said.

“I couldn’t choose another Ladybug,” Tikki agreed, snuggling up under Marinette’s chin. With the two kwamis in between her and Adrien, it was like one big group hug.

“The Cat and Bug Team sticks together.” Adrien squeezed her tighter.

“The Bug and Cat Team, you mean.” She smiled, resisting the impulse to flick a bell that wasn’t there.

Yes, he was still Chat Noir. She could get used to this.

“You know what this means, Tikki?” Her smile turned sly. “I won’t have to get you a Barbie house after all. You can come sleep over in Plagg’s.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d come sleep over too?” Adrien wiggled his eyebrows, and she went bright red. “I—I mean, that came out wrong. Not that you can’t come over if you want to; I always leave my window open, but uh—”

She laughed. He was definitely still her Chat Noir.

“Maybe in your dreams, kitty,” she said automatically, and he smiled sheepishly. “But… if you wanted to watch a movie, or play some video games, maybe…?”

He blinked. “Are you… asking me on a date?”

She—she was! Despite shoving a sock in his mouth, despite dressing up as a boy, despite—well, pretty much everything, honestly—she’d finally done it!

“Yes!” She practically shouted. “I mean—only if you want to. No pressure.” She grinned nervously.

“Are you kidding?” He laughed and spun her by her waist; her feet knocked a few shirts off of their hangers. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Marinette!”

She laughed too, a giddy sound that built from the deepest part of her lungs. He said yes!

“We’re going to have to watch them be this disgusting for the rest of their lives, aren’t we?” Plagg sighed.

“Hopefully.” Tikki smiled. Both of the kwamis had flown out of the way when Adrien had picked Marinette up. “Aren’t you glad to see them so happy?”

“Meh. Just don’t expect me to share my sock with you if you do sleep over.” Plagg picked that sock off of the ground and bunched it up in the Barbie house bedroom.

Marinette giggled at them. She would’ve giggled at anything, at this point; all the air in her lungs felt like helium. She could’ve floated off the ground.

In an impulsive move, she stretched up on her tip-toes and kissed Adrien’s cheek. The grin that stretched across his face could’ve lit his whole closet.

“This is the best day of my life,” he sighed.

Hers too. Pleasant tingles ran all through her, and that was just from kissing him on the cheek.

“If it’s okay,” she hesitantly wrapped her arms around his neck, “I have an idea that could make it even better.”

His eyes softened, like liquid sunshine. His head tilted down until their noses were brushing, until all she could see was him.

“You know I’m always ready to follow your lead, my Lady.”

With that permission, she surged up to meet his lips—

—Only to be blinded by light spilling through the doorway.

“Oh. Uh, my bad.”

Marinette and Adrien sprung apart like magnets.

“Nino!” She shouted.

“Fancy seeing you here!” Adrien’s eyes were hysterically wide. Thankfully, Tikki and Plagg had hidden as soon as Marinette and Adrien looked like they were about to kiss, so she didn’t have to worry about Nino discovering their identities.

“I was helping you clean your room. You know, like everyone else?” Nino said. Adrien almost started to apologize, but Nino grinned. “I was just looking for you because you disappeared all of a sudden. But it looks like you’re busy.”

“I’m not—”

“We’re not—”

“I mean—”

“We’re just—cleaning the closet!” Marinette lied. Why was she lying? Everyone already knew she wanted to kiss Adrien!

“Actually…” Adrien bit his lip, then looked at hers pointedly. “We were a little bit busy.”

Nino laughed. “I told you she’d interrupt guy time. But it’s all good, dude. Just don’t forget Mylène and the girls are waiting on us!”

He winked, then closed the door on them.

“Oh my gosh.” Marinette dropped her burning face in her hands. “That was so awkward!”

“It could’ve been worse!” Adrien hugged her again. “It could’ve been Kim. He would’ve told everyone. Or Nino could’ve seen Tikki and Plagg.”

“Please, no one’s gonna see me. I’m not coming out of my sock until you two are done sucking each other’s faces.” Plagg’s voice came muffled from the Barbie house.

If Marinette’s face heated any more, she could fry eggs on it. But she’d been more embarrassed than this before. It wasn’t going to stop her from kissing Adrien.

“So about that face-sucking…” Adrien grinned.

She braced her hands and the edges of his jaw. Her skin tingled at every place they touched.

“Kitty, just stop blabbing and let me kiss you.”

(He did.)

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #fic tag #tali writes #plagg #tikki #kwamis #reveal #fic requests

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randomoranges · 3 years

Text

lamao so like this is a thing that happens, right? course it is. anyways, there was more to this but it’s like it’s own thing so it’ll be a part two maybe one day.

you can’t ever tell me i’ve never written canon mongary now. you’re welcome.

To Kiss Amongst Friends

20??

Calvin fiddles with his hands, nervous, and licks his lips in – anticipation, mostly. Maybe. He’s not sure. He’s thought this over way too many times and he’s still – unsure whether or not this is something he really wants to do or really wants to say or bring up. But – it’s been – actual years now and he can’t deny that he doesn’t think about it, but he also would much rather completely never think about this ever again. Not because it’s bad, but – he’d never really thought this would be a thing that would apply to him.

“So, you’re sure? This can be a one off and that’s it?”

He asks the man sitting beside him and he nods, reassuring, but Calvin’s heart is a flutter and his nerves are a right old mess. He knows this is stupid, on some level, but it’s exciting as much as it’s frightening.

“Of course,” The man tells him.

Calvin nods. He’s spoken about this with Edward and even though he’d known that Edward wouldn’t mind, he had needed to run it over with his boyfriend. Luckily, said boyfriend had given him his blessing and so, here he was now.

It had all started years back now. One little incidental accidental innocent kiss that had meant nothing, but had left him wondering. Then that one kiss had turned into a second and then a third, and then he’d lost count. (He hadn’t lost count. He knew. His brain had registered each and every one. Had catalogued how different they were from Edward’s kisses. It had been a thing, apparently.)

The problem was that, for starters, Calvin had never really thought of himself as a queer man of any type. Then, once he’d started seeing Edward – fooling around with him or whatever one called it, he’d figured it was a phase of some sorts. Some type of self-discovery thing that would pass. However, instead of passing, it had turned into actual feelings. It had taken him enough time to come to terms with that and his own sexuality, but – it had all worked out! He and Edward had talked it over and they’d committed to their relationship! He’d been on cloud nine and everything had been perfect. Mostly. But – it had been good. (It still was, thank you very much.)

The whole Étienne debacle had been the first real test and he should have known at the time – should have listened to the little voice in his head telling him that this would spell disaster later – that the Étienne equation would complicate things.

But – Calvin had done his utmost best to be the bigger man about it. Really tried. And – he liked to believe he had succeeded.

So long as Edward still actually loved him, he was fine. He was a modern man. He could be open-minded about his boyfriend having a boyfriend that wasn’t him. And plus, Étienne was a cool guy. It was fine! He’d come to accept the fact that Edward loved two men and he’d even made a new real friend out of Étienne. It was great! They all got along! They had a whole system he had devised! Edward could love two men and he’d love Edward and it was fine. This was how they worked. The world was awesome that way, and such.

But, Étienne did not play his games. He’d been warned. By others. By Étienne himself. By Edward even. And Calvin had laughed and brushed it off.

And now, here he was, years later, with a very annoying and frustrating problem.

He’d tasted the forbidden fruit and now he craved for more, so to say.

Each accidental kiss with Étienne had left him curious for more. He’d ignored it. Had brushed it off. Had played it cool, but there were times when he wondered what it would be like – to really kiss Étienne and each time he’d been left wondering what the heck that even meant.

He knew how Étienne was; had asked him and had asked Edward. He knew Étienne had a different view on intimate things and it had surprised Calvin that even he could – potentially – want to do stuff with someone else. He was very happy with Edward. He’d always figured he was a one dude man. But – well, Étienne had soft lips and he was a good kisser. Even if it was accidental.

And – Étienne was, well, attractive.

But that was Edward’s scene. Not his.

Or, so he thought.

After years of laughing every accidental kiss off and of pretending they didn’t mean anything, he’d finally looked himself in the mirror and admitted that there was a curiosity in regards to Étienne M Maisonneuve that had grown and that lived within him. He’d eventually summed up the courage to tell Edward, in case Edward would have any reservations over the matter, but Edward had clapped him on the back and told him to talk it over with Étienne. He’d even assured him Étienne would help him figure it out.

And so, after sitting on it for a longer while still, Calvin had finally brought it up with Étienne.

Which brings them to their current conversation.

“You sure you’re okay with kissing for a bit? To get it out of my system?”

He’s so nervous about this. It feels completely silly. To ask Étienne if they can make-out so he can get these thoughts out of his head and then move on with their lives. It almost feels like he’s asking a stranger for something even more surreal.

“Absolutely,” Étienne reassures him, “Look – I don’t see kissing, or even sex for that matter, as something that you solely do with your One True Love, or whatever. It’s something enjoyable you get to do with someone else who consents to it. You’re not declaring your unwavering devotion to me just because we kiss and you’re not throwing Edward to the curb either. So, don’t worry about it.”

He nods. Étienne is right. He loves Edward. That hasn’t changed. And Edward is aware that there’s a high chance he’s going to kiss Étienne. Just Like That. Because he – wants to.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Étienne ads and part of Calvin really would want to postpone this – or, never really do this, but – a much bigger part of him wants to. He’s spent too many waking hours daydreaming about this over the years.

“No – it’s fine, I want to. M’just – nervous.” He rubs at his neck and Étienne chuckles softly.

“That’s alright; we can take this slow. No pressure.”

He nods again, thankful, but doesn’t do anything to move on to the next part.

“Here, let me,” Étienne places a sure hand on his thigh and leaves it there to give him a moment to get used to it. Calvin stares at Étienne’s hand and marvels at the paint speckles he can see by his knuckles, the fading paper cut across his thumb and the somehow or other immaculate nail art. He watches the colours, takes in the shapes and forms, and somehow or other feels grounded by it all.

“Is this okay?” Étienne asks and Calvin realises that his friend has moved a little bit closer, is sitting a little bit nearer and this time, when his heart rate picks up, it’s for the good reasons.

“Yes,” He whispers. Étienne grins and gives his thigh a little squeeze. He likes it. The way Étienne squeezes his thigh. He takes in the smile etched on his friend’s face and tries not to stare at Étienne’s lips for too long. They’re different from Edward’s. He can tell. Étienne’s lips are fuller, he thinks. Or, they seem to be. And Calvin knows they’re soft. Would know by all the chapstick he’s seen Étienne put on. By all the tubes he’s found. Knows because he’s felt those lips against his own. Wants to feel them again to make sure they’re still as soft.

Étienne moves his hand from his thigh to his face and cups his cheek with it. His hand is surprisingly warm for someone who’s constantly cold, but it’s strong and sure against his skin. He feels the pad of Étienne’s thumb caress his cheek and Calvin’s breath hitches. He closes his eyes on instinct, revels in the feel of Étienne’s hand on his face and savours the moment.

“Is this okay?” Étienne asks again and when he takes note of Étienne, his friend has leaned in closer to him, the gap between their bodies merely suggested. He can feel Étienne’s body heat from where they are and on instinct he moves his arm so that Étienne can be closer still.

“Yes,” He repeat and Étienne’s thumb ghosts over his lips. He thinks it’s unfair how unfazed Étienne seems by all of this, while his heart is a ricocheting mess, but maybe it makes everything easier. This way, he can let Étienne guide him and take charge – ease him into their first actual kiss. He does it so flawlessly too; tilts his head to the side and presses close – closer still, so that he can brush his lips against his own. It’s soft, just like Calvin remembers, but this time he can enjoy it without (too much) shame.

Étienne’s lips move against his and luckily, there is still one part of Calvin’s brain that is functional. He kisses Étienne back, wraps his arms around his friend’s body, and pulls him to him, so that it’s easier for both of them. Étienne rearranges himself moments later, moves and shifts until he’s sitting on his lap and when Calvin dares look at him, he’s momentarily struck by the green of Étienne’s eyes.

“Is this okay?” He checks in again, lips a little wet and it does something to Calvin to know that they’re wet because of him.

“Yes,” He replies, this time with more confidence and Étienne grins and dips low to kiss him again and Calvin’s hands find the small of his back and keep him there, sitting on his lap.

The kisses are soft and chaste; a series of lips against lips, gentle and easy, but Calvin wants more and so when he pulls back to look at Étienne, Étienne grins, and then gives him a small nod, before he leans down again. However, this time, when he kisses him, it’s slower and when he feels the tip of Étienne’s tongue against the seam of his lips, Calvin gasps and as his lips part, Étienne slides in to find his tongue.

It gets messier and headier after that. Calvin grasps Étienne’s shoulders, manages to tangle a hand in his hair, and kisses him with fervour. It’s years of pent up curiosity finally unleashed and it’s even better than he thought it could have been. He’s about to consider maybe slipping a hand under Étienne’s shirt, if his friend would be alright with that, when Étienne pulls back and gives him a kind smile.

“You know there’s not a time limit to this, right?”

He gives Étienne a puzzled look and Étienne responds by placing a languid kiss to the shell of his ear, then to his chin, and then to the corner of his mouth, “Even if we just make-out once, we can still enjoy it; you don’t have to rush.” He clarifies.

Calvin’s cheeks colour with embarrassment at that. He’d gotten a little eager, maybe, and had thought that perhaps it would have been best to get this over and done with. Étienne surely had better things to do, but it seemed as though his friend didn’t mind.

“Here, like this,” He says and then kisses him again, soft and silken smooth and oh so good.

He lets Étienne kiss him, lets him mould their lips together, and forgets to over think this whole thing. He chases back every one of Étienne’s languid kisses and asks for more when his friend teases to pull away. He has to admit even to himself that this is – nice. He likes the way Étienne feels sitting on his lap, likes the way his arms wrap around Étienne’s frame and he comes to realise that he really likes the soft little moans that Étienne let’s out after each and every kiss. He likes that he can get such a reaction out of Étienne.

When they pull apart to catch their breaths sometime later, Calvin finds that Étienne’s cheeks are flushed and rosy and he gives him a pleased sort of smile as he nuzzles their noses together. Something inside of Calvin purrs in content at the sight of Étienne’s kiss swollen lips knowing that they’re like that because of him. He likes that Étienne keeps a hold of him, lets his hands fall to his chest and then wrap behind his neck, before they start kissing again.

He likes that Étienne’s hands start roaming his body; start touching his chest, the nape of his neck – gasps when he feels him tug a little on his hair, but what really surprises him is when he feels Étienne grind down against him – and then he goes on to reciprocate.

Calvin has no idea how it is they went from just kissing to touching and moving against each other, but he can’t help but moan when Étienne starts kissing down his neck. He’s already half-hard, can tell that Étienne is as well, and he figures he can think all of this over later – that he can freak out over this later, but just as he’s thinking of pinning Étienne down on the couch, his friend pulls back quickly and abruptly.

“Étienne?” He asks, as if in a daze.

“This isn’t what we’d agreed to.”

It dawns on him then that Étienne is right. They’d agreed to a bit of making-out for fun. He didn’t even know if Étienne wanted to go beyond that with him, regardless of how his body had reacted. He also realises that he’d considered going the full way – having sex with Étienne, without any further thought to the matter – and the realisation is like a bucket of cold water down his back.

“Crap – I’m sorry – I’m – got carried away,” He tries to disentangle himself from Étienne, but it’s too complicated with him right there on his lap. Étienne laughs, and it does nothing to calm his suddenly returned nerves, but Étienne puts a hand to his shoulder and offers him a kind smile that reassures him a little.

“Hey, it’s okay; like I said, I don’t mind. Sex is sex. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with this.”

Calvin blinks and actually thinks it over. Étienne wouldn’t mind. Étienne would willingly have sex with him. It’s – good to know, but he’s not sure – doesn’t know if – needs time to – figure things out.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything either,” He rectifies as if he can tell what it is that Calvin’s over thinking.

“I – yes – well, could we –,” He sighs, frustrated with the mixed signals his mind and body are giving him.

“Doesn’t have to be today either – or ever. I won’t hate you for it.”

It sounds like something silly to say, but it does quell some of Calvin’s fears. He’d hate for his friend to think he’d strung him on, or that he’d only used him to satisfy himself, but – he knows Étienne isn’t like that and it’s comforting to hear him remind him.

“Yeah?” He asks, still, to make sure.

“Of course,” Étienne caresses his face and it’s gentle and friendly and not heated like before. Calvin lets out a relieved sigh and leans into the contact, grateful.

“Thanks. I need – time. Process things. Mull them over.”

“That’s fine; whatever it is you want to do, it’s fine.”

“Even if it’s just – explorative?”

“Absolutely; consider yourself lucky to have a friend who won’t mind if you wanna kiss or fuck and who won’t hold it against you even if it was just a onetime deal. If you want, cool, if you don’t, cool as well. The offer is on the table and you get to chose what you want to do with it.” He’s so sincere about it and Calvin realises that he really is lucky. Not just for this but for so many others things as well.

Calvin hugs him, which ends up surprising Étienne, but he feels much better about it.

“Thanks,” He says and Étienne offers him a smile and pecks his cheek. It’s friendly and light and Calvin’s mind clears up a bit.

“Of course, anytime.”

Étienne goes to get off him, but Calvin asks if it’s okay if they just – cuddle for a bit and Étienne agrees. He rearranges them again and has Calvin leaning on his chest, before he runs a hand down his back, soft and easy like. It’s nice – even just this, and if nothing else ever happens, he knows at least that he can have this and that’s fine as well.

END

#pc: montreal #pc: calgary #calvin BRISEBOIS LOL #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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falseroar · 4 years

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Is This Your Card? Part 14: The Whole Trust Thing

((Abe decides to search each of the guests rooms, starting with his own, in the hopes of finding some clue to help explain what happened last night. During the search he runs into the mayor, who has more than a few doubts about the hunter’s motives.

Link to the previous post, Part 13: A Debt to Pay.))

Some disheveled sheets, a more or less empty glass on the nightstand, a few paper wards tossed around out of habit more than anything at this point. Just the way Abe left the room this morning, but he still scanned the room for anything out of place, anything to suggest someone else might have been in the room last night.

There weren’t any of the usual telltale signs that anyone had tampered with the nightstand, which when locked refused to open despite Abe’s best efforts to jiggle the lock or knock the drawer loose, not without the nightstand key or one of the master keys.

He slammed his hand down on top of the nightstand, once, twice, three times until his palm burned. He needed the attorney, they could just smell that someone else had been here, although at this point Abe wouldn’t be surprised if even that turned back on him.

One of the paper wards fluttered off of the nightstand and he bent down with a sigh to pick it up, only to freeze halfway. The paper had landed face down, revealing that the back of the once white paper was now yellowed around its edge, tinting towards brown and even dusty gray in the center behind the words of protection. Like someone had held it over a candle, just short of letting it burn through completely. He picked it up and sniffed the paper, but there wasn’t a smell, not even a whiff of smoke.

A quick check confirmed that the wards placed at the head of his bed, the window, and near both the bathroom and bedroom doors had all been affected in the same way. They weren’t particularly strong wards, not something Abe would have used on an active hunt, but it was enough.

Someone—or something—had been in this room last night. With enough evil intention to confirm Abe’s suspicion that he was being set up to take the fall, or at least divert attention from what was really going on here.

Between this knowledge and having the gall to give him a card to remind him of his dead partners, it was like the person behind this was trying to get Abe to come after them with everything he had.

If that was the case, then challenge accepted.

The Colonel’s room was next to be searched, which proved to be nearly identical to his own in layout, although a chair had been moved toward the window, perhaps for the better light it offered. The covers on the bed itself had been moved slightly, the kind of movement that suggested someone sat on the edge at one point, but a peek at the neat, crisp sheets underneath confirmed Abe’s suspicion that no one had actually slept in it. The hunter checked the closet and bathroom, but there were no personal affects lying around. Now that he thought about it, both the Colonel and the DA had arrived at the door without any sort of overnight bags.

Knowing the little he did about the attorney, he wondered if one or both of them had purposefully done so, as a potential excuse to duck out early instead of spending the night.

Abe sighed as he walked out of the bathroom, sensing another dead end, only to stop short when he spotted the small metal trash can by the nightstand. Empty, except for a thin layer of roughly and hastily torn pieces of paper at the bottom.

Benjamin, going by his cleaning spree this morning, probably would have been around to clean out the guest rooms’ trash this morning if he hadn’t been more worried about disturbing the guests. That plus the whole “dead boss” distraction meant Abe was now kneeling in front of the bin, carefully moving the small scraps of paper around with the tip of his index finger.

Most of the words were torn or too scattered to make sense of any kind of connection, besides the fact that they were all written in the same looping cursive, although one larger piece in particular caught Abe’s eye:

“go to the party”

On another, he found a dash next to a large “C,” which he assumed stood for Colonel.

Abe hesitated. He wanted to know what this letter had said, but he didn’t have time to rearrange it here, and trying to stuff all of the scraps in one of his pockets could lead to missing pieces or worse, the Colonel noticing and using it against him. Better to come back with the DA as a witness, if only to keep them from having yet another reason to suspect him.

The next room down belonged to the Mayor, who appeared to have taken the time to neatly make his bed before sitting down with a stack of papers on his room’s desk. Abe took a hasty flip through these, but aside from the outline for an upcoming speech and reports related to events taking place later in the week, there wasn’t much there. Nothing incriminating, at least.

After a quick check of the Mayor’s closet that proved the man had brought exactly zero casual clothes for the weekend, Abe reluctantly moved on to the last guest bedroom.

The district attorney hadn’t even bothered to lock the door behind them, and a first scan of the room showed no personal items or anything worth hiding aside from their jacket, left hanging on the back of a chair. That is, until Abe walked over to the bed and pulled back the rumpled cover.

Wolf hairs.

The DA changed? When did that happen?

Abe glanced at the door and back down at the dark hairs, very visible and noticeable against the white sheets. If the butler came around to change the sheets, he would be sure to notice, and with that werewolf card floating around…

Without even realizing what he was doing, Abe threw back the cover and hastily brushed all of the hairs together with his hand, forming a small ball of fluff that he had no idea what to do with. Flush it down the toilet, maybe?

…Did this count as hiding evidence? What was he even doing, he should be asking the DA—

“What are you doing in here?”

The mayor stood at the door to the bedroom, his accusing stare only growing harder as Abe instinctively put his hand behind his back, sticking the furball in his back pocket to deal with later.

“Trying to find a killer,” Abe answered.

Always best not to beat around the bush in this kind of situation.

“In the district attorney’s bedroom?” the mayor asked. “Does Y/N know you’re in here?”

“They know I planned to search every room of this house.” Although Abe suspected the attorney would have preferred to be with him while said searching was going on. “What with the whole missing body situation.”

“The what?!”

Oh, right. Damien wasn’t there for that particular revelation. Then again, Abe didn’t see how it was his fault none of the others bothered to let him in on the situation.

“Mark’s body isn’t where we left it. Not only did someone up and kill him, they’ve gone and moved the body. I don’t suppose you have any suspicions on why that would be?”

Damien’s eyes narrowed. “If I had to guess, perhaps someone wished to dispose of any evidence that might point toward the killer. After all, only one of us has spent any significant amount of time examining Mark’s body. Without it, we would only have your word to rely on, wouldn’t we?”

Great. Just another way he was apparently being strung up to take the fall here, like a poorly tied up pinata.

And the mayor had the same look in his eye as a kid with a big stick and some anger issues to work out in the name of free candy.

“Well, as you can clearly see, there is no dead body in this room. So again, what are you doing in Y/N’s room?”

Abe crossed his arms across his chest and met the mayor’s stare. “Like I said, I’m checking the entire house. I can’t just skip someone’s room because you might have a problem with it, sir.”

“Yes, it would be a shame if you somehow missed the opportunity to make yet another baseless accusation against someone,” Damien answered, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Tell me, why exactly would Y/N have killed Mark?”

“The werewolf card.” The answer came quickly, before Abe could even realize he should try to stop it.

Damien stared at him for a moment before fully stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. In the next second, he was inches away from Abe, both hands tight around his cane as though he wished it were the hunter’s neck as he hissed out the words, “You and I both know why that’s not the case, hunter.”

“Mark was Y/N’s friend, one of their few friends apparently,” Abe said, and the mayor made no move to discredit the idea. “But last night, some asshole with a vendetta sends everyone here a card that happens to reveal something that they’d rather not discuss with anyone else at the table. Somehow, Mark accidentally walks away with Y/N’s card and finds out they’re a werewolf. He doesn’t take it well, because when has Mark ever taken anything well, and he steals a gun and the silver bullets, then goes up to the DA’s room and tried to shoot them, but in the struggle—”

“Mark would never!” The mayor’s face changed drastically with his indignation at the very idea. “Even if that were true, one of us would have heard—”

“He could have lured them downstairs, or outside, and then the DA did what they could to hide how and where he died. Or maybe they realized their card was gone, that Mark would find out and, afraid that he would reveal it to the world, did what they had to do to keep him quiet, using the silver bullets as a blind to keep you or I from suspecting—”

“Y/N wouldn’t do that!” There was a plea in Damien’s voice, a call for the hunter to see reason. “Think about what you’re suggesting, they wouldn’t—they would never—”

“I am thinking, and unlike you I know better than to let my feelings get in the way. I haven’t even touched on the Colonel or the fact that he, I don’t know, also had a gun loaded with silver? Meanwhile, you trust your friends to the point you can’t bring yourself to doubt them for even a moment.”

Abe prodded the mayor in the chest as he spoke, only to get pushed back.

“Some people might consider that a virtue,” the mayor replied. “I know Y/N and the Colonel; I trust them not to hide anything from me. What’s wrong with believing that my friends aren’t mur—killers?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I seriously doubt that whole trust thing goes both ways.”

Damien stilled, staring at the hunter suspiciously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“There’s nothing you wouldn’t tell them? Nothing you might keep close to your chest?” Abe prodded the mayor again and was rewarded with the feel of the cards tucked in the man’s chest pocket.

Damien frowned and took a step back. “No, of course not. The Colonel’s known me almost as long as my sister has, and as Mayor, it is my duty to work closely with the District Attorney’s office so I can’t…”

“Yeah, I get it. I mean, it makes sense a mayor with a very recent and public werewolf problem would want to set up a deal with a prominent hunter family like the Bronsons. Little less sense when you find out he’s knowingly harboring a werewolf in the city. How’d the DA react to that news?”

Damien’s expression gave away what Abe already suspected.

“…Oh. You haven’t told them. Guess that trust only goes one-way, huh?”

“How did you—Who told you?”

Abe shrugged. “You were sitting next to me at the table last night when we all got our cards. I peeked.”

There had only been the name, but every hunter worth his salt knew of the family. The name alone went a long way within his circles. But not one you expected to need in a city that supposedly had the walls and the wards to keep the riffraff out.

Damien sputtered for a moment before managing to get out the words, “You don’t understand. They have connections, they’re looking for cures, for long-term integration efforts—”

“And I suppose they just need a little political help getting that wheel turning, huh?” Abe said and the mayor scowled.

“This is none of your business, hunter. And it has nothing to do with what’s going on here.”

“I don’t know, in my line of work you tend to look for connections. Like how whoever sent those cards last night apparently gave a pair of death cards to the two people least likely to survive this little get together. Someone clearly had it out for Mark, meanwhile the attorney’s second card would be enough to get them killed, and wouldn’t you know it, another card points out how our honorable mayor is making backdoor deals with hunters—” Abe reached out and flicked the top of the mayor’s cane, and despite Damien’s attempt to interrupt him, continued, “You keep that silver close, don’t you? Maybe as much as you throw around words like ‘trust’, you have a little voice in the back of your head that whispers every time you’re around the attorney that maybe today’s the day they—”

Abe threw up an arm to stop the mayor’s hand, privately surprised he hadn’t taken a swing at him with that cane. Although that wasn’t as surprising as the pure venom in the mayor’s voice when he brought himself to speak.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare, for even a single second, suggest that I would ever do anything to hurt them.”

Abe looked Damien in the eyes and slowly the mayor lowered his hand without taking a step back. The mayor took a harsh, shaky breath and then asked a question that surprised Abe. “Do you know what Y/N did, when I accidentally found out?”

Abe silently shook his head.

“We were at a party, back in college, Mark and I had dragged them to it. They didn’t want to be there, and wound up drinking too much before ducking out early. I tried to follow them, to make sure they got home safely, and caught up with them right as they changed.” Damien sighed and looked Abe in the eyes. “When they realized I had seen, they just…backed away, cowering like they were afraid that I would…I don’t know.”

Abe thought back to the first time he had seen the attorney as the wolf. How they had cowered away in fear, never once seeming to consider the idea of attacking him. Not a story he thought he should share with the mayor though, especially considering he had been pointing a loaded gun at them at the time.

“I know they would never hurt anyone, same as I would never do anything to cause them any more pain than they’ve already had to suffer.”

“You can believe a lot of things about someone and still be wrong,” Abe said softly. His mind went to his own card, to some of those names there. He had trusted before, and he knew how that song and dance went.

“Still?” Damien sighed, but the disappointment in the sound rang hollow as he said, “It must be a lonely life, to think the way you do. Never trusting anyone.”

“Better that than to ignore the truth right in front of you because it hurts,” Abe retorted, but the Mayor was already at the door and on his way out of the room.

Abe sighed and gave him some time before following him out. Without thinking about where he was going, he found himself in a small study he had discovered earlier. The walls already bore testament to his twisting train of thought, with scraps of papers and news clippings taped up on every available surface along with his hasty notes, fragments of ideas that never seemed to lead anywhere. Most of the papers had come from within the study itself, or the library upstairs where Mark had an extensive collection of newspapers, although mostly the ones that might have some review related to a performance of his.

He ran his eyes over the pinned pages, looking for something that he had to be missing.

How could the mayor be so sure that his friends were innocent, when the Colonel was still walking around with a gun loaded with silver bullets, same as him? No, of course it was easier to blame the hunter, killing was supposed to be his job after all.

Abe plopped down in the chair and began to absentmindedly type on the typewriter resting beside a stack of books.

The Colonel had the same bullets, the same opportunity.

The Colonel had known Mark for years, had worked for him once.

But now? The two barely shared a word last night, and the DA had found his picture broken on the floor of Mark’s bedroom.

The Colonel had barely blinked an eye upon finding out his ‘friend’ was dead.

The Colonel had offered to put him down ‘again’, seemingly relishing the idea of taking on another of the undead.

The Colonel had been sitting right next to the DA. He could have snuck a look at their card, just as easily as Abe saw the Mayor’s. From there, it would have been easy to confuse the situation around Mark’s death. Kill him, then use a silver bullet to finish the deed and leave people to believe Mark was the werewolf. No jury in the city would question it.

The Colonel was familiar with the house, enough to know that there were two master keys. He could have stolen Mark’s copy and used it to access Abe’s gun, then left the key in Mark’s bedroom and locked the door behind him to hide how it was done.

Abe stared at the page, at the endlessly repeating words that echoed the same certainty that had been building in his mind even though he could not remember consciously typing them out.

The Colonel did it.

There were still missing pieces, it still didn’t explain what was going on with the cards, and it would not be enough to convince anyone yet, but Abe was certain to his very soul that he was right.

The Colonel killed Markiplier.

And he had let the district attorney walk away with him.

With five silver bullets remaining in his gun.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Abe was up and moving toward the door, his hand on the doorknob just as the shot rang out.

((End of Part 14. Thank you for reading!

Link to Part 15: Cards on the Table.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch))

#markiplier #fanfiction #wkm au #werewolf au #monster hunter au #wkm detective #wkm mayor #wkm district attorney #trusting too much or too little won't cause any problems at all #of course not #especially not for a certain da

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kyidyl · 4 years

Text

Not Deer

(This was inspired by that post that was circulating about the Not Deer in Appalachia and the town that I currently live in. @leftturnat4thandbananas I especially thought you would enjoy this little bit of quarantine-induced madness. You’ll probably recognize some of the things I’m describing.)

“Alexa, stop!,” Macey yelled at the black cylinder sitting on her night stand. The alarm shut off, and I started packing up my stuff. I caught her frown as she watched me.

“What?,” I asked, “It’s almost curfew. You know how my mom is about curfew.”

“It’s snowing outside, and it’s dark,” she swung around so she was sitting on the edge of her bed and flipped her long, dark braid back over her shoulder.

I finished packing my homework into my backpack and stood, “It’s always dark and cold when I go home in the winter. I’ll be fine.”

Both the argument and the concern in her brown eyes was familiar. She was definitely the mom friend in our group, “It’s not always snowing. People aren’t careful in the snow.”

“They’re never careful on that road,” we both lived along a back road that wound through farms and woods. It had a lot of curves, hills, and blind spots - and no sidewalk. But it was the only way to get home, so it’s the way I went. She stood up too, following me as I left her room and started down the steps.

“You can stay the night, you know. My mom won’t mind.”

“I know, Mace, but I will. You know I don’t like getting ready for school here. All my stuff is at home. I’ve either got to get up at the ass crack of dawn,” which never happened because we always stayed up late talking, “Or do a walk of shame.”

I let my backpack down in the hallway with a thunk, and retrieved my coat from their closet. I’d brought gloves, a scarf, and a hat, too even though I normally don’t. I was glad I’d grabbed them. She stood on the bottom step, chewing her bottom lip. Her parents were out to dinner, so she couldn’t bug her dad to drive me, but I know she would have if they’d been here. She tried one more tactic to get me to give up on my walk home, “What about your mom? Can she come get you?”

I shook my head, “Dad has the car. Listen, I’ve walked home in the snow before. It’ll be totally fine.”

She sighed and dropped her arms, “This is what you were talking about earlier, isn’t it. The worrying.”

“Yeah, but it’s ok. I get why you do it,” I gave her a quick hug and hefted my backpack onto my shoulders, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Text me when you get home?”

“Of course! Later!”

“Later, Apple,” I smiled at her nickname for me and left. After I closed the door behind me, I heard the lock click into place. Her parents’ rules: if you’re home alone, you lock the door. I shifted the weight of my books on my back, and looked around.

Macey lived on a small farm, and so she had a long driveway between her house and the road. I started walking, and the sand and rocks of the unpaved drive crunched under the soles of my shit-kickers. Macey’s dad had salted the drive before they’d left, and the stones glimmered wetly in the moonlight. It turned out that the snowing had stopped while we’d been hanging out, and the clouds had gone. The ground was blanketed in a couple of inches of unblemished white. Just enough to cover the grass, but not enough to get school canceled.

The moon was out, bright and full, and it illuminated the flat, white expanse of the land that stretched out on either side. The air smelled like ice and cold, like icicles and sleeping forest. There was only a little wind, and it blew up swirls of loosely packed snowflakes from the ground. Everything had that cushioned silence that follows a new snowfall.

It took a few minutes for me to reach the actual road, and unlike the Romero family’s driveway, it hadn’t been touched by salt, sand, or plow. Typical. It probably would be covered until tomorrow morning. Our little town wasn’t exactly proactive about things like that. They preferred to suffer, I guess. I gave an annoyed snort to the empty night,

I was careful as I turned left onto the empty road, watching for the glow of headlights to give me some forewarning of a car. None came, and I kept walking.

Soon, the flat land of the farms gave way to the woods. Houses, none of them of the new construction that made up the subdivisions further up the road, were set back from the road or behind a screen of trees. This road had hills, and further along it the side of the road would give way to steep ditches and gullies. Our here, there were plenty of animals. My parents have hit deer especially a number of times; my dad even bought these weird things for his hood that are supposed to whistle and chase the deer away.

As the landscape transitioned into woods, there was an old, broken barn. Not even a barn, really, more like a two sheds stuck together. Half of it was beaten, lilting boards and a slice for a door. The other half was a rusting tin can of a structure, the metal walls little more than rust and the vines that held it together, and a set of open doors that led into gloom. A barely-there metal roof was slanted over the rested half and pitched over the wooden half, and it was only slightly less rusted than the shed itself. A useless decaying horse gate was off to the side, slanting drunkenly to the right, and a path into the woods was behind it.

(picture to break up the wall o text.)

I hated that barn.

It creeped me out. The hairs on the back of my neck rose every time I got close. Even as a little kid I hadn’t been curious enough to overcome that particular fear, and it hadn’t gotten better over the years. Every time I walked home I crossed the street to avoid walking too closed to it and sprinted passed it. But tonight, the snow and slickness made it dangerous for me to do either of those things. My heart rate ticked up and I took my hands out of my pocket. When it came to fight or flight, I was very much in the fight category. It seemed like the wind blew a little harder, and suddenly I thought I could hear all kinds of noises that I hadn’t heard before.

The cracking of a stick somewhere in the woods, almost like a gunshot in the dark.

The fump has a pile of snow was pushed off of a branch somewhere.

The flap and tumble of some unlucky bird.

A barking dog menacing me from one of the homes nearby.

These sounds were normal, but as I was walking in front of the sad, lonely little structure, they all seemed sinister. They were living things, pulsing in the darkness when I wanted to be alone. The sounds of my steps in the snow answered. Shit kickers aren’t stealthy.

I walked past that structure as fast as I could, the fear tightening my shoulders more with every step. I clenched my teeth and my fists, and walked. The stillness was oppressive now, where moments before it had been soothing. Fear makes you see things in shadows.

Which is why, when the winter-bared bones of the bush in front of the shed clacked and scraped together in a gust of wind, I screamed and ran. Damn the snow, damn fight or flight, I was not looking to fight some supernatural entity tonight.

Apparently, though, the laws of physics still applied to me. I ran, but I didn’t get very far before I tripped have a big branch on the side of the road. My feet slipped in the snow, and I went down face-first onto my hands and knees.

In case you have ever wondered: snow does very little to cushion a fall onto rocks and rough pavement. It only makes your clothes wet on top of giving you road rash. And that ish hurts.

“Great, Alisha, juuuust great. Skinning your damned knees like a five year old because of some wind,” I grumbled aloud to myself as I stood and started brushing debris off the now-wet knees of my jeans. I checked under my gloves, and while my hands stung, the gloves had saved me from the words of the skinning. In fact, the worst was the throbbing on the back of my head where my backpack had slid up my back and smacked my head. Well, that and the knowledge that whatever goblin lived in that shed was probably having a laugh at my expense.

The fall did do one good thing, though. It broke through the worst of my fear, and I laughed to myself as the adrenaline started wearing off. I started down the road again, stomping in protest, my cold hands jammed back in my pockets.

From here, the road got darker as the trees reached overhead. Even in the winter they blocked most of the light from the moon, and out here in the country they didn’t bother with street lights. The embankments on the side of the road rose and forced me to walk directly on the road instead of off to the side. This was the most dangerous part, because this was also where the tight curves started. I felt my adrenaline spike again, but this time there was nothing supernatural about it; I was alert for headlights bouncing off of the tree branches.

As I walked, I listened to the world around me, my caution making my senses stretch further. I heard the same things as before: the cracking of sticks in the forest as some creature shuffled around them, the huffing of a dog that probably just wanted to play, the whispered hush of snow rearranging itself in the trees, and the occasional noise of some small creatures settling in for the night. They were the same noises I always heard around here at this time of year, familiar as the nose on my face. It’s funny how the mind plays tricks.

I found a good walking speed that wasn’t so fast it was dangerous, but wasn’t so slow that I’d be frozen before I got home, and the time passed quickly. Before I knew it, I was almost at the little bridge before the turn off for my house. Really, bridge was a generous word for the small overpass that took the road over the little creek. It was just a flat stretch of road with a thin shoulder and a low concrete guardrail. On the other side, the road curved out of view.

(another pic to break up the wall o text. Both images are screenshots of Google street view edited in PS.)

Here, the trees pulled back some and the moon was able to shine clearly on the flat surface of the bridge. There, standing in the middle of the road, was a huge buck. I’ve seen a lot of deer living out in the stix, but this was easily the biggest one I’d ever seen. I’m 5′2, and this thing looked like its shoulder would be somewhere around my head. I didn’t even know they could get that big. The moon painted its orange-brown coat with silver, and threw the shadows created by its twisting antlers into sharp relief. They were as big as him - thick and heavy, and wickedly sharp. I couldn’t count the points from here, but it had to be at least twelve.

Wait...antlers? It was February. My dad liked to hunt, and even though I’d never gotten into he, he’d taught me a few things about deer. One of those things was that the bucks dropped their antlers earlier than this, and it was a good time to go hunting for the shed racks in the woods. This deer shouldn’t have any antlers this late in the season.

I stopped in my tracks, and as I did, it whipped its head around to look at me. There moonlight was a sharp little blade in the dark eyes of this thing as it stared at me from the other side of the river. It stared, and stared, and as it did, the same fear grabbed hold of my guts and scratched its way across the nerves of my skin. My heart was pounding, my muscles clamped tight. This was nothing like the fear I’d felt while passing the shed. It seemed like a cozy little refuge, now, as I started down this deer.

I couldn’t understand why I felt this way - it had done nothing but be big and not shed its antlers yet. That logic didn’t matter. I wasn’t getting a single step closer to that thing. I ground my teeth as I stared at it. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. Right now, my actions were being guided by a part of my brain that kept my ancestors alive.

Predator, it screamed, that is a predator!

It made no sense. It was a deer. Sure, they’d eat meat sometimes if it was around. They looked at gut piles like they were treats this time of year, but they didn’t kill and eat humans. That was another thing my instincts were saying - hungry. This thing was hungry. I still couldn’t say why or how I knew any of this, but I knew it down to the red marrow of my bones.

It was strange - the longer I stared down that deer, the more of a tug I felt to keep walking. To cross the river. But the terror was useful; it kept me from following that impulse. The deer huffed, and its breath didn’t fog in the cold. My brain filed that detail away automatically with the height and the antlers. The animal sounded frustrated, although it shouldn’t have been possible for me to identify that emotion so clearly.

Then it started pacing. I watched in fascination horror as it moved with an awkward, stuttering gate. It didn’t seem to know how to place its hooves, and it swayed back and forth, all while not taking its too-intelligent eyes off of its prey. It didn’t know how to move properly, and I remembered that my dad had told me of an illness. Chronic Wasting Disease - mad cow for deer. He told me how to spot one, and to steer clear of it. He told me it was neurological; that it made it hard for them to move.

But this wasn’t that. No, this deer moved like it was something else wearing the skin of a deer. Like it was new to that body and didn’t know how to use it. Its fumbling reminded me of the way a toddler moved - wobbling and unsure of what its muscles should do, but enthusiastic about being up and walking instead of crawling. It was like that, but with far less innocence and far more jerks and twitches in its movement. It almost looked like it was adjusting its deer suit as it paced on its side of the river.

It huffed again and then growled. Not like a tiger or a dog would growl, more like a cat growling if that cat had the vocal cords of a high-pitched cow. I screamed in surprise and covered my ears at the sound.

Come. Here. I could feel its anger and frustration pressing in on me, looking for purchase, looking for a crack in my terror.

There was none. It was all-encompassing. It was terror of the sort that fueled strength. Terror that sharpened your mind, that made time slow so you could think faster and survive. It was the same kind of terror that had saved the earliest of my kind on the savannahs in Africa. It was terror that whispered to me with a small, comforting voice, do not cross the moving water.

Of course - it hadn’t even attempted to cross the stream, pacing back and forth over where the edge of the stream was rather than where the edge of the bridge was. It couldn’t cross the moving water.

As soon as I had the thought the creature’s growling was honed into a scream. It stood on two legs, making it tower over me. It was trying to be more threatening, but I knew now. I knew as long as I stayed over here I was ok.

“No,” I said, my voice stead and calm. I wasn’t loud, but my voice carried in the snowy stillness and into the moon-bright night, “I won’t cross. You can’t have me.”

It screamed at me again, eyes narrowing in an almost human expression of incredulity. Inside my clothes, my skin was hot from the anger coming from the not-deer, sweat trickling down my spine, but I planted my boots and fisted my hands and would not move. I could taste ice on my tongue, and I took a deep breath through my mouth, letting the cold soothe me.

Then, there was a sound. High pitched and clear, it came from somewhere in the woods or fields around us. It was sweet, and some of the heat of the not-deer’s anger seeped away from my skin. Its had flung around awkwardly towards the sound and it went back on all fours with a loud thud. It snorted and pawed the ground, but it hesitated. Then, the call came again, louder this time. With a final, angry look at me, it took off into the forest away from me and the road home.

I stood there on that road waiting, too afraid to cross, until I was sure that I couldn’t hear it crashing through the bushes anymore. Then I took off like a shot, snow be damned. I ran across the creek, my feet sliding as I took a sharp right onto the road that led to my house, down that road and up to my house. I ran straight in the front door, locked it behind me, and pounded up the steps to my room.

I texted Macey when I got my backpack off, but I knew it was going to be a long, sleepless night.

#fiction #stories #writing #horror #not deer #appalachia #creepy

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ijustwant2write · 5 years

Text

Obsessed-Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

(GIF credit to @whenimaunicorn)

Summary: requested by @walkxthexmoon: ‘Hey love:) could you maybe write an imagine with ivar being obsessed with you and fighting every man that comes near you off?! I would understand if you don’t want to write it. I hope you have an amazing day:)’

Characters: Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: jealousy, obsessiveness, mention of violence and injury, mention of weapons, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Strolling through the town used to be a lovely way to spend my afternoons. Sometimes I would stop by each stall to chat to the people of Kattegat, both wanting to keep up my appearance and to connect with the people; my family were wealthy, we were one of the well known names amongst the people, and thankfully, all for good reason. I may have not been royalty, but I was the closest thing to it compared to everyone else. However, there had been jokes and rumours that that may change.

Although we were supposed to stay close with the royals, I had only had a full conversation with the family twice, once when I was much younger and the other only a year ago. I was forced to speak with the princes on both occasions, but since then I had only seen them in passing. However, they were now back from a raiding, all coming back looking like real men. Everyone noticed it, and apparently one of them had noticed me.

Ivar, easily the scariest of them all, had suddenly taken an interest in me. When they returned, a huge feast had taken place and of course everyone had attended. This brought the third time I had spoken to the Ragnarsson’s, Ivar the most surprisingly. I had enjoyed the conversation, but what came after startled me slightly. Men somehow stopped speaking to me, even getting within standing distance. It had confused me at first. I was a friend to all, and (I hoped) that I never gave off the wrong impression to anyone; however, it all seemed to occur after that particular feast.

“(Y/N)! I have not seen you out here for weeks!” a merchant called out to me as I bravely walked through the market.

“Well, I think we all know why.” I sighed.

“I’m not going to say anything.”

“No, that’s probably a good idea.”

“Should you not take it as a form of flattery?” he asked as he rearranged his items.

“Not when he’s fighting any man that comes near me. I worry for those poor souls.”

“Have you spoken to him about this?”

“I tried once. He didn’t take it very well.”

As he was about to speak, his eyes locked onto something to the right of us. I followed his gaze, slightly upset when I saw it was Ivar. Sadly smiling at the merchant, I quickly moved away from his stall, hoping that Ivar would not see it in the wrong way. I knew he had spotted me, so there was no point in trying to leave. I waited patiently for him to walk to me, using his crutches like he always did now instead of crawling through the mud.

I bowed my head to him.“Ivar, it’s nice to see you today.”

“He was not bothering you was he?”

I tried not to roll my eyes.“No, it was just a friendly chat.”

“Good, good.” we walked beside each other, and I could see how people moved out of the way for us.“You have not been here for a while, I missed your presence.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

He smiled to himself, seeming proud of his compliment."So why is it that I have not seen you?"

"Ivar," I was about to take a risk with my words,"you know why?"

He darkly chuckled."Because I protect you from men who lust after you?"

"Because you scare away men who come near me."

He stopped walking, turning his head towards me."They shouldn't be looking at you the way they do."

"But not all of them do Ivar! It tarnishes my reputation, something which I must uphold for the sake of my family."

“How can you say that? I am looking after you.”

“I understand your view on this, but men like that merchant back there are simply having a conversation with me. Though it seems nowadays that no one will speak to me.”

“I speak to you.”

I groaned, shaking my head at him. He knew he was winding me up and he was enjoying it. I wasn’t going to get through to him any time soon, and as frustrating as that was I just had to give up before things got messy.

“All I’m saying is I would prefer it if you weren’t so....so-”

“Hm?” He waited for the word, an eyebrow raised at me.

“So intimidating.”

“Intimidating? That’s not the word I would use.” he started to walk again before I stopped him, my hand on his upper arm.

“Ivar, please, I’m practically begging you! Just don’t hurt anyone.”

His eyes were on my hand, and he snarled before looking away.“I will try my best.”

He then walked away, I watched as practically no one looked at him. I felt slightly bad for him, I knew his actions weren’t supposed to upset me, but there was no way he could continue with this behaviour. Men would suddenly waltz the streets with bruises and deep cuts, even broken noses; everyone knew what happened to them, especially since they would have been seen with me just the day before.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Just beyond the edge of the forest, I stood with my bow and arrow, practicing a few shots during the peaceful afternoon. It was a beautiful day; the weather was perfect, the atmosphere was calm and no one had disturbed me...yet.

I heard someone approaching from behind me. Their steps were too casual for them to be a threat. Looking over my shoulder (with an arrow prepared just in case), I felt slight relief when I saw Arne (a close neighbour) approaching, his own weapons strapped to him. He seemed to be in a happy mood, smiling at me from far away.

“Arne, what brings you here?” I asked.

“The same as you.” he finally reached me, setting down his axe.“Getting some practice in whilst the weather is on our side.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping your family on the farm?” I found myself looking around, heart beating quickly at the thought of Ivar showing up.

“Well, I should, but this is more important.” Arne caught onto my paranoia and chuckled.“Relax, he’s not here.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m a tracker, a skilled fighter, I know when someone’s following me.”

“Still, we must be careful.”

“He doesn’t have claim on you, not yet anyway.”

“Yet? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He picked up his axe, throwing it up and down with one hand.“I hardly doubt he’s going to put this much effort into keeping men away from you and not have you as a wife.”

“What if I say no?”

“You won’t.”

I was too shocked to reply.

“One, your family will agree straight away, and two, I’ve seen the way you look at him. You may hate his little game he plays but whenever you’re with him, you look much too invested.”

“Well....I mean, he’s an interesting person.”

“Interesting, that’s one way to look at him.”

“Arne.”

“I think you two would look good together. He’s calmer with you, everyone seems more relaxed when you’re around him.”

I thought about his words, the weight of them suddenly dawning on me.

His tone was softer.“I don’t mean any offence-”

“Perhaps it would be better to just keep your mouth shut.” Ivar’s voice rang out, startling us both.

Behind us was Ivar, how he had sneaked up on us was a mystery. My heart beat was racing, hoping he heard none of the conversation. Arne didn’t deserve any punishment, though neither did any other man. Instinctively I moved towards Ivar, almost like a barricade between him and Arne. All of us had weapons, the two men both bearing axes, both as equally skilled as each other. Ivar’s glare didn’t falter as I spoke.

“Ivar, please we spoke of this.” I quietly reminded him.

“Yes, but he has been running his mouth, spiteful words escaping them!” Ivar snapped.

“No, he hasn’t. He was...just voicing his concern.”

“Concern? Why should he be concerned? I would never harm you.”

“I know, I know. Look, nothing has been done here. Don’t hurt him.”

“I said I would try-”

“Well try harder!”

His eyes widened at my outburst.

“Ivar, if you don’t stop this nonsense then I will never speak to you again. You think this will make me fall for you, that I’ll somehow be flattered by what you’re doing. Well it’s not. I don’t want to be the reason as to why you end up killing an innocent man.”

I too was surprised by my rant, my raised voice making our surroundings seem quieter as I stopped. Ivar and I held an intense stare at each other, neither one of us backing down. He huffed, a deep frown set on his face as he slumped away, his crutches digging into the ground harshly to release some anger. Oh gods, what had I done? I had pissed off the most reckless prince of Kattegat, a man who never held back or thought about the consequences before taking action. Arne and I watched Ivar, only relaxing when he disappeared from sight.

“What have I done?” I whined, wondering if I was taking a risk by going after him.

“He won’t do anything to you.” Arne tried to console me.

“You don’t know that. Ivar isn’t stable, you’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

“(Y/N), go home. Don’t worry, he’s just pissed off because you stood up to him.”

“What about you? Should you walk with me? In case he’s still there or-”

“(Y/N), I’ll be fine. I can protect myself.

My body was filled with tension, my mind swirling with horrible things that Ivar could do to me or anyone else. I didn’t mean to anger him, I just didn’t want a friend hurt. My family noticed, and when I explained they too tried to calm me down. As we sat down for dinner, trying to take my mind off the events of the day, there was a knock at the door. Our thrall immediately went to answer, though we heard a deep voice commanding her to fetch me. My father and I went to the door, he demanded to know why I was needed at such a late hour.

“Prince Ivar wishes to see your daughter.” the guard explained.

We shared a glance, and my father knew I had to go. Although I believed that Ivar wasn’t going to hurt me, there was a doubt in my mind. I didn’t let that show, reassuring my family that I would be safe. As the thrall wrapped a cloak around me, I silently prayed to the Gods, hoping that the worst he would do is viciously yell at me. The guards walked either side of me, holding torches to guide us through the dark. Thankfully no one was out to see this happening, avoiding the gossip that could circle around town. They made sure I walked quickly, almost shoving me into the Great Hall where Ivar sat on one of the thrones. No one spoke as we walked to him, his hand waving dismissively at the guards, leaving us alone.

“I am sorry to drag you away from your home so late. Have you eaten?” he asked casually.

I nodded.“No need to apologise my prince. And yes, I have, thank you.”

“Good, I would not want to make a bad impression on your family.”

Why was he so calm?

“Of course you haven’t. If you don’t mind me asking, why am I here so late?”

He looked like he was struggling to keep eye contact with me, his lips slightly pursed before speaking.“I wanted to apologise for earlier.”

What?

An apology from Ivar?

“I got angry at you and your friend for no reason, and when I saw how upset you were I regretted it.”

I wasn’t sure how to reply to that.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Sorry, thank you for the apology. I...I’m just-”

“Shocked? I do have a heart (Y/N).”

“I know you do.”

He sighed.“Come closer.”

I took a few steps forward, standing at the bottom of the small stairs in front of the thrones. He reached his hand out to me, gesturing for me to come even closer. I held onto it, hitching up my dress to climb the stairs. Now stood directly in front of him, his hand still in mine, my heart was beating fast once again, but not because I was scared.

“You must realise, I was only ever loved by one woman, my mother. And although she doted on me, I have never known how to reciprocate that love. I only know of violence and anger. That’s why I have been fighting off those men, to somehow show that...that I care for you, that no other man should have you.”

“Ivar, I...I’m also sorry for shouting at you. I didn’t realise that this was how you were showing affection.”

“I understand if you want to run away from me right this second, never speak to me again.” he turned angry, his hand slipping from mine until I snatched it back.

“Ivar, there has been times where...where I was truly thankful for your actions. There has been some men which were too close for my liking or thought they could do whatever they wanted to me. But this doesn’t justify what you did to others.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I just need to understand a little better. Why did you fight them off?”

“Have you seen me? I’m a cripple! They already have the upper hand. They’re also not monsters, they aren’t feared by everyone they know.”

“I don’t fear you.”

“You should.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself! You are so much more than you think you are. Do you really think I would be here right now, that I would take even a slight interest in you if I thought those things?”

His sad eyes looked deep into mine.“Do you really mean those things?”

“Of course. I’m not condoning your behaviour, but what I’m suggesting is that we start over. Do this properly.”

“Do what?”

“C-courting? Is that what you wanted?”

He smiled, a breathy laugh escaping his lips.“That’s all I wanted since the day I first met you.”

He gently kissed the back of my hand, and I almost melted at the sight. He was dangerous, unpredictable and terrifying; though there was a side to him that no one saw. He wanted to express his love, his happier side, but didn’t know how to do so, seeing as he wasn’t brought up the happiest of homes. But I was going to change that, make him into a loved leader when it was his time, change the perspective of him from his people. It would take some time, though I was sure that this was the first step of many.

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson imagine #ivar ragnarsson imagines #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar ragnarsson one shot #ivar #ivar imagine #ivar imagines #ivar x reader #ivar one shot #vikings #vikings imagine

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fitzdizzyspells · 3 years

Text

Great Things

On an average day, the back room of Diagon Alley's ice cream parlor would typically smell of sweet elderberry sorbet, iced mooncakes, and hot chocolate. But today, for the first time in what felt like ages, it was filled with smoke and laughter.

"If you think you've an easy advantage over all of us, Albus, you're wrong." Florean Fortescue wagged his pipe at Dumbledore accusingly. "Meet my eyes as much as you like, you won't uncover any secrets that way."

"I'm wounded, old friend," Dumbledore said. "You think I'd stoop to such lows?"

Garrick Ollivander chuckled quietly and rearranged the coins in front of him. "Dumbledore doesn't need Legilimency, Fortie. A mountain troll could notice your tell."

"And," Aurora Sinistra added, "it's all the more noticeable the more you try to close your mind."

Florean replaced the pipe in his mouth. "Fine," he grumbled, replacing his coins in a small leather pouch. "Urdrig. I'm out." Purplish-grey smoke curled from his mouth in petulant bursts, forming loose, unruly spirals that matched his wild grey hair. Still, Garrick noticed the corners of his friend's mouth twitch briefly upwards. He knew Florean well enough to recognize when he was in high spirits. Even Garrick was willing to let himself feel a brief flicker of the same warm nostalgia. It was nice to return to the old routines, which years of war and grief had forced them to neglect.

"You are a delightful addition to our Ballynok game, Aurora," Garrick said. "Albus used to always invite Filius or Horace to these gatherings. Imagine my surprise when he turned up with you."

Dumbledore glanced happily at Professor Sinistra and said, "After weeks of meetings with the school governors, I sought a friend who could drown out the coughs and sputters of old warlocks."

"I see only one elderly man in this room, Albus," Florean said, pipe between his teeth.

"Certainly," Dumbledore said. "I find my coughs and sputters the most tedious of them all."

Garrick smiled at Professor Sinistra. "You're a quick study, Aurora, it's quite impressive. I should have known better than to gamble against a witch wielding a dogwood wand with a dragon heartstring core."

"Oh!" Aurora said, beaming. "You remember the wand you sold me!"

"Don't encourage him, hen," Florean said with a pained look. "He needs to learn that this tick of his isn't nearly as charming as he thinks it is."

She sighed, looking at her coins. "Well, unfortunately for me, it appears that dogwood and dragon heartstring can only take me so far. Urdrig. Besides, I have a feeling it's never wise to bet against Dumbledore." She gestured at the large bid Dumbledore had pushed to the center of the table.

"Perhaps," Garrick conceded. "It's no match for Albus's elder wood wand, and, ah," he snapped his fingers absentmindedly, "forgive my forgetfulness, Professor, what is the core of your wand, again?"

"I would say 'nice try,' Garrick," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "except that it might've been your weakest attempt yet. And Aurora, you overestimate my Ballynok skills. Although I am wise enough to guess you only want to end the game early to study the Mourning Moon tonight."

She laughed. "I'm sure I bored you to tears this morning, talking about it all through breakfast."

Garrick's eyes became unfocused as he stared at the coins in front of him. Of course. The Mourning Moon was in the sky tonight. Phoenix feathers that were plucked during this time were strikingly magical.

Garrick sighed. He should've known that Dumbledore would be no less industrious in peacetime.

Albus cleared his throat. "Well, Garrick? Feeling confident?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Have some courage, man." Through the smoke, Albus's eyes caught the candlelight as he smiled over his half-moon glasses. "Don't underestimate yourself."

"Sometimes restraint is the best thing a wizard can exercise." Garrick surveyed the coins before him, irritated by these sudden distractions. He'd nearly forgotten the coins' true value — the value he'd seen before he'd taken most of them out of his leather pouch. Four of the coins in front of him — two silver, one made of stone, and one made of alabaster — were actually four gold coins, that was easy enough to remember. The obsidian coin he'd grabbed from the community pile was, in fact, an obsidian coin. But his last wooden coin — that had been obsidian, right?

Garrick clicked his tongue softly. Florean Fortescue and his blasted goblin games.

"Well, everyone," Garrick said, "this seems as good a point as any to end the night. I've an early morning tomorrow —"

"How unfortunate," Dumbledore said. "I had just thought of a way to make things more interesting, if you happened to raise the stakes."

"More interesting?" Garrick frowned at the large pot in the center of the table. "How so?"

"I thought you might appreciate the chance to finally sate your curiosity." Dumbledore examined his elder wood wand with a half-interest. He smiled at Garrick, who had frozen in his chair, eyes wide. "Let me be clear," Dumbledore said, "lest you think this a suspiciously bold wager: I am not betting my wand. I am offering you the opportunity to examine it, if I lose. I'll confess, I've been a dreadful friend to have kept it from you all these years. It's quite the secret."

Dumbledore's offer had jogged Garrick's memory like a lightning bolt. He was certain now that he had four gold coins, and two obsidian. "And," Garrick said, "if I lose?"

"If you lose," Dumbledore said, "then I would humbly ask you to craft a wand, with materials of my choosing."

The room stilled. Florean looked up at Dumbledore with a deep, disapproving frown. Aurora's gaze flicked nervously between Dumbledore and Garrick.

Garrick gave a shaky scoff. "Not this again," he said. "For now, it's unnecessary for me to make any more wands. My inventory is diverse, it's robust. A good wandmaker knows to pause for a decade or so and wait for a new generation of dragons and unicorns."

"Certainly," Dumbledore said, "and you are the expert. But in this particular case, I must respectfully —"

"Yes, Albus, I am the expert, as much as you may think otherwise," Garrick said. He threw his cloak around his shoulders and snatched his hat off the table. "Keep your gold and your wand. You have won both, after all. Besides, I'm sure I could write to Gregorovitch. With a bit of prodding, he'd likely share what wand he sold to that terrible wizard, all those years ago."

"While that conversation undoubtedly would be interesting to you," Dumbledore said, "it would not give you any insight into my current wand. This is not the wand Grindelwald received as a boy."

Garrick furrowed his brow. Florean and Aurora continued to watch them.

"Grindelwald couldn't have..." Garrick paused. "He didn't make a wand for himself... did he?"

"No. He sought a particular one out, and he found it."

Garrick stared at Dumbledore, turning that statement over in his head. What could that mean?

Dumbledore's wand switch had been apparent to Garrick mere days after the defeat of Grindelwald. It wasn't just that the curious elder wood wand had caught Garrick's eye the moment he'd first seen Dumbledore cast magic with it. The object had a palpable energy to it. It produced a tension in the air, as if a long, drawn-out hum suddenly stopped. Even now, as Dumbledore used his wand to levitate and rearrange his six coins on the table, there was a ringing in Garrick's ears.

Three years ago, he had promised himself he would never make another wand again. But he wouldn't have to, if he won.

Garrick sighed, placed his hat back on the table, and returned to his seat. He gathered his remaining Galleons and placed them in the middle of the table. "I see your twelve Galleons, and I raise you any wand of your choice."

Florean leaned over to Garrick and muttered in his ear, "More than anyone, I agree that returning to your work would be good for you. But don't let him force you into it."

Garrick shrugged. "Perhaps luck will be on my side tonight."

Florean raised his eyebrows dubiously as Dumbledore tossed his wand into the pot.

"Well." Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Let's see what we have here."

Florean raised his hand and, after a second's hesitation, snapped his fingers. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Garrick's silver coin popped, not unlike a kernel of corn, and transformed into a gold coin. Each coin eventually changed in much the same way — a few at a time, then many at once, until a thunderous cacophony of pops and jingles filled the room as the coins rattled on the table.

Dumbledore's seven iron coins lay in a line on the table. Seven of a kind — one of his coins had in fact been two. Garrick stared at them and felt a prickling, feverish sense of dread.

A stony expression had clouded Fortescue's face, and Aurora's eyes were flitting nervously between the three wizards in the room. The Galleons and Sickles in the middle of the table were cascading like a waterfall of gold into a small pouch that Dumbledore held out. "The phrase 'embarrassment of riches' always comes to mind in this situation," he said as the last few Sickles clinked into the bag, "but if Ballynok teaches us anything, it's that nothing gold can stay. I'm certain you'll win it all back the next time I'm here, Florean."

Garrick asked, in what he hoped was a casual voice, "Shall we make an appointment to discuss what sort of wand you'd like me to craft? In a month or so, perhaps? I'll be freer in the new year."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and smiled. "I'm surprised you're so booked up. I had no idea Ollivander's experienced a Christmas rush. A wand is a rather odd gift to buy a friend."

"Well." Garrick coughed. "People are accident-prone this time of year. Office parties at the Ministry, family gatherings — wands are dropped and stepped on with a frequency that breaks my heart. I often wonder why we abandoned wand scabbards years ago. I think it might do the wizarding world some good to —"

"When was the last time, Garrick," Dumbledore asked, "that you obtained a phoenix feather on the night of a Mourning Moon?"

Garrick's eyes flicked to Aurora Sinstra, who was bidding Florean goodnight. "Plenty of times."

"I'll admit," Dumbledore said, "my understanding of wand-making is rudimentary at best, so forgive me for forcing you to entertain the theories of a novice. But the fact that you've sworn off crafting wands during a time of such historic significance..." Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he watched Florean levitate the table and chairs to a corner of the room. Once the room was tidied, Florean pulled a box of jelly slugs off a shelf in his stockroom and began to munch on them, casting sulky glances at the table that had previously supported a fair amount of gold. "Wands made during this time could contain some exceptional magic, don't you think?" Dumbledore asked.

"There is something unsavory, Dumbledore," Florean said, still skulking in the corner, "about meddling in the affairs of a grieving man."

Could historic significance of a particular time influence the magic of a wand? It was the kind of theoretical question that Garrick used to love to debate, and even now he felt a ripple of his former curiosity. Would a phoenix feather procured on the first Mourning Moon after You-Know-Who's death be any different than any other phoenix feather? Who could say? The thrill of an intriguing wandlore experiment stirred something in his Ollivander blood. In his darkest days of late, however, he had started to wonder if his passion for wandlore should be treated more like a hereditary curse.

Garrick donned his hat and said, suddenly animated, "Albus, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to find a phoenix in time. Even if I did somehow manage to travel to Asia tonight for a quick jaunt to the top of the Himalayas, these hunts can take weeks before we're successful. Even if I knew precisely where a nest was — and I've not corresponded with my contacts there for, Merlin's beard, two years at least — one does not simply track down a phoenix in a matter of hours."

"Ah! Well, thank goodness you're well acquainted with one of the three people on earth who has managed to successfully domesticate a phoenix."

Dumbledore's smile wavered as Garrick paled and his eyes widened in sudden horror. He turned on his heel.

"Ollie?" Florean looked up from his snack, baffled, as Garrick shouldered past him and out the door that led to the front of the shop, behind the ice cream parlor's counter. Garrick, who'd spent thousands of hours of his life in this shop, was better equipped to navigate it in the dark than Dumbledore was, and he stormed past the buckets of ice cream on display behind the glass until he reached the part of the wooden counter that flipped up. It fell back down with a bang as Garrick made his way across the tiled floor, and he heard a soft but satisfying "oof" as Dumbledore stumbled behind him.

Garrick's breath caught in his throat as he strode out into Diagon Alley, illuminated by a few lanterns and that blasted Mourning Moon shining above his head. He put his hands on his knees before Dumbledore eventually joined him.

"Garrick, I —"

"Absolutely not." Garrick's words came out in a short, ragged croak.

"I thought it was obvious what I —"

"That was not what I agreed to," he said, raking a hand through the air. "Had I known that was what you were getting at, I would never have agreed."

"I assumed, incorrectly, that you always knew I was talking about Fawkes. As ego-bruising as it is to admit, I'm in neither the mood nor the shape these days to scale the Himalayas at a moment's notice."

Garrick straightened shakily. "I'll make you a wand. But I'll not use another feather from that bird. What could come of that, but another Dark Lord?"

"That's the sort of nonsense I would expect to hear from a wandmaker with a fraction of your knowledge and talent, Garrick," Dumbledore said. "Surely you don't believe that a wizard is made Dark by his wand."

"Back at my workshop," Garrick pressed, "I have tail hairs from unicorns that I stumbled on in Brocéliande, and wood from that forest as well. I would be happy to work with those materials, to make you a wand from that."

"That's excellent news," Dumbledore said with a smile, "but you will have to do that work on your own time."

Garrick turned away from Dumbledore and strode down Diagon Alley in frustration, drawing his traveling cloak a little tighter around his neck in the brisk night air. He weaved his way around a smattering of shoppers, Dumbledore trailing close behind. Garrick was still readjusting to a thriving Diagon Alley, especially this late in the evening. Less than a month ago, the high street would have been deserted at this hour. But now that witches and wizards could move without fear through their communities once again, it was startling how rapidly things had returned to normal. Or, somewhat normal. Nearly every weekend, the Ministry had to calm a jubilant crowd that was attempting to restart the celebrations of the first of November, and the confetti beneath Garrick's boots made it clear that everyone's high spirits would not be subsiding any time soon.

After the Dark Lord's fall, Garrick had watched the celebrations from his flat above the shop. Relief and joy washed over him, and he laughed for the first time in three years, watching Florean dance ridiculously with Madam Malkin. Garrick had turned to his wife, in hopes that this might be the first thing that could coax her off the sofa. However, when he saw Elspeth's vacant expression had not changed, he had sobered immediately.

Garrick pushed this thought from his mind as he passed Quality Quidditch Supplies and Eeylops Owl Emporium and reached the Leaky Cauldron's brick wall. He raised his wand and, without even making a conscious decision, tapped out the combination of bricks that was best burned into his memory. A brick in the center shook and shimmered, and the wall finally opened — not to Diagon Alley's local wizarding pub, but to the vast expanse of Flutterleaf Park.

Garrick gave a relieved sigh, and strode forward.

All the trees had shed their leaves, but the park had always been Garrick's daughter's favorite place, even in winter and even before the first snow. Grass sprawled as far as the eye could see, and a pond was just visible at the end of the path that began right at his feet. He walked forward, slower now, drinking in the air that was so much fresher here. Tall lanterns lit the path, but so did an occasional fire that huddles of witches and wizards had conjured in the cold, as did lights from flocks of fairies that flitted from shrub to shrub.

Garrick folded his arms under his cloak, and his knobble-knuckled fingers brushed against her pear wood wand he always kept nestled beneath the seam. Ten and a quarter inches. Unicorn hair for the core, naturally. Fern always had an affinity for unicorns, even as a young girl. Whenever the Ollivanders would visit Elspeth's Muggle relatives, Elspeth and Garrick would always have to lecture their daughter — in vain — not to mention unicorns to her cousins. Fern found it heartbreaking that everyone wasn't in on the secret. Her accidental magic was troublesome enough, and the breathless, unnervingly detailed stories she liked to share with anyone who would listen were enough to turn Garrick's hair grey.

As an adult, Fern would insist — in that same breathless detail — on using an unstable, enigmatic magic known as pyromancy in her wand crafting. Garrick would lose hours with her, arguing against her appeals to use phoenix fire on holly, or dragon fire with ash.

"You're letting an animal do half your job," he would scold her. "Imagine what you're burning away in those flames."

Her brow would crease, not with frustration but with intensity. "Dad," she'd reply, "imagine what we're gaining!"

Youthful follies aside, Fern had been invaluable. She was unmatched in procurement and, after her death, replacing her had proven impossible. Garrick's description of "stumbling on unicorns in Brocéliande" was quite the understatement — it had taken him days to find any magical beasts. With Fern's help, they could have found a herd in a matter of hours. It didn't help that Garrick had trudged through the forest much slower than he usually did, wondering why he was even there. The woods had felt quite haunted.

Dumbledore joined Garrick on the path, his eyes trained on the night sky. Garrick assumed momentarily that several owls swooping overhead had caught Dumbledore's attention, but, of course, it was the moon that was on the headmaster's mind, he realized with a sigh.

"Did you read the Prophet today?" Garrick asked, his boots crunching along the path. "The Ministry is considering renaming this park after the Harry Potter boy."

"I did hear that, yes. What do you make of it?"

"I don't think Marty Flutterleaf would mind. He was quite embarrassed to have it named after his family in the first place. I don't believe he thought they were notable enough."

"I'd beg to differ."

"So would I. I don't think Ollivander wands would have seen the improvements they did over the past several generations without the Flutterleafs' contribution to herbology. But," he shrugged, "they may call the park whatever they please, as long as I can still have access to the trees whenever I like."

"Ah, how intriguing. The wood here is good enough for wand crafting?"

"Yes — simple, unassuming trees are sometimes best for certain wands, especially when you're looking to balance out a particularly powerful core."

Dumbledore smiled. "I'd hoped as much. That's why I was planning to show you a specific plant in the Forbidden Forest, for the wand wood I had in mind."

Garrick turned sharply toward Dumbledore. "The Forbidden Forest?"

"Yes."

"But the merchant restrictions on that land... ?"

"Are overridden as long as you're in the presence of the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Yes, indeed," Garrick said, thinking. "Oh, very good. Well, well, well..."

"Would you like to see it?" Dumbledore said, offering his arm.

A braver, wiser wizard than Garrick Ollivander would have been terrified to find himself in the Forbidden Forest at this hour. Insidious noises punctuated the fog and the darkness around him — leathery wings beat through the air, legs scuttled over frost-covered tree roots, sudden feral cries rang out without warning. Instead, however, Garrick felt only giddy. He was surrounded on all sides by endless sources of magical materials, and it overwhelmed any sensible desire to flee that he should have felt.

He scraped some moss off a rowan tree with a fingernail and sniffed it, then absentmindedly let it crumble between his thumb and forefinger as he examined the bark. If Garrick could trust his instincts, the tree had been a longtime home for a wood nymph roughly five years ago, but hadn't been inhabited by anything more magical than a bowtruckle since then. The wood would pair well with the unicorn hairs back in his workshop. He moved forward to break off some branches, then hesitated. His habit of gathering wand materials wherever he went had proven difficult to kick. If he was no longer going to make wands, there was no reason anymore to find interesting wand wood or impressive magical creatures. Garrick caught up with Dumbledore, briefly, before he was distracted again by a chestnut tree. He wished that it were April, rather than the end of November, so that he could properly examine the foliage. He squinted up at the branches in the darkness, before he heard Dumbledore calling his name.

"Step lightly, Garrick, this isn't a place to tarry." Dumbledore was several paces ahead of him. "Fear not, this holly I have in mind will be interesting as well."

Garrick felt that prickle of excitement and dread again. Holly had, naturally, been at the corners of his mind when he'd tried to anticipate what kind of wand wood Dumbledore would want to pair with Fawkes' feather. The plant of death and rebirth...

He shivered in the cold, and then hurried to find Dumbledore.

A large stag looked up, then leapt away as Dumbledore approached a holly bush. The plant didn't appear to be anything special; it was a bit scrawny, in fact. But Garrick Ollivander, like Dumbledore, knew that appearances could be deceiving. However, as Garrick leaned in and inspected the holly — moving steadily round the plant, examining the soil around it, testing the give of its branches, taking note of the crooked direction in which it grew — he brushed off his hands and cleared his throat.

"Forgive me, Albus, but this specimen is, erm... quite underwhelming."

"It is dreadfully flimsy, isn't it?" Dumbledore smiled and loosened the purple scarf at his neck.

Garrick bent down and searched for a branch that would work best. Dumbledore pointed his wand at his throat, cleared it and said, "Sonorus." Then Dumbledore began to whistle a low, melancholy tune that likely could be heard throughout the Hogwarts grounds.

It sounded like a phoenix's song, and yet... the same tune, mimicked by man, had the opposite effect that a phoenix's warbled notes should. Light tendrils of anxiety crept around Garrick's mind as he realized that Dumbledore was calling Fawkes to him, and he thought about the last time he'd seen Fawkes' feather core wand.

It had felt surreal, when Lord Voldemort had walked quietly into the wand shop three years ago. The bell had jingled as the Dark Lord shut the door behind him and Garrick stood frozen behind the counter. Voldemort had paced around the shop as if he worked there, looking up at the shelves with keen interest.

Voldemort had pulled a wand box off the shelf and ran a finger slowly along the side of the box to remove the dust obscuring the scrawled text. "Redwood and unicorn hair. Eleven and a half inches. Crafted in the year seventeen fifty-two... fascinating... and yet, it's found no owner?"

"Wands are patient," Garrick had rasped, almost automatically. "They — they will wait, for the right person to come along."

Voldemort considered this as he removed the wand from its box. He curled it through the air, swiftly conjuring a geometric mandala out of silver light that glittered in the dim shop as the lines connected, swirled and looped before him, until Voldemort vanished it with a dismissive flick.

"It gives me no pleasure to end sacred wizarding lines," Voldemort said softly, replacing the wand back in its box. "Lines that could have produced great witches and wizards who might have served my wizarding world very well, generations from now."

Garrick did not move, his feet rooted to the floor.

"Seventeen fifty-two — a great era," Voldemort continued. "I wonder who this wand is waiting for... hopefully someone who comes of age in my lifetime." His lips curled as he replaced the box on the shelf. "Ollivander's was not selling wands to Mudbloods in the mid 18th century, if the historians are correct... What a tragically brief tradition."

"Tragic indeed," Garrick countered, his voice trembling, "if that wand is waiting in vain for someone who never had a chance to walk through these doors."

"Someone who does not have the resolve to discover these doors and force their way through," Voldemort said, producing his own wand, "was never much of a wizard to begin with."

If Garrick had not already been a dead man in that moment, he knew that his small comment of dissent had certainly made him one. He thought desperately of how he could keep Voldemort from reaching his family upstairs, what he could possibly say to pacify him, but then his eyes focused, almost out of habit, on the raised wand.

"Mr. Riddle?" he whispered, stunned. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful. Garrick, like many others, had assumed that Lord Voldemort had emerged from a school other than Hogwarts. No one seemed to know who he was, and his Dark magic was so foreign to Garrick, so unique and strange, that he had likewise assumed that his wand had also come from elsewhere.

But it had not. The wand that had caused so much destruction, that had taken so many lives... Garrick had sold it to a small, pale boy half a century ago. It was horrid, and yet... and yet...

"That shape that you conjured just then," Garrick rasped, "what is it? What does it do?"

Voldemort laughed softly. "More than you could ever fathom materializing from one of your wands, I imagine."

"Try me," Garrick demanded, with more conviction than he ever thought he could summon before the Dark Lord. He had to know: What great magicks had Tom Riddle advanced with an Ollivander wand, one that appeared to be unchanged from the day it had been sold?

Riddle raised his wand again, and black-green light fluttered not only through the yew wood but through the veins in his hand as well — a prepared Killing Curse manifesting in a way Garrick had never witnessed before. In the moment when he knew he was about to die, his thoughts did not turn to memories of his wife or his daughter, but of a strangely contorted yew tree that grew in a dark and overgrown graveyard.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The mandala reformed, the Killing Curse invoked, and bands of light wove together his doom as Garrick gasped in the light. As the spell faded and its brightness dimmed, Garrick felt dazed, unsure why he was not yet dead until he saw Fern, lying motionless at the bottom of the staircase in the shop. Fern, who must have heard the conversation as she descended, of course she had. Fern, who had undoubtedly tried to take action when Garrick had done nothing...

"Perhaps now you will understand what you are risking, if you continue to sell wands to those who are undeserving." Tom Riddle left the shop as casually as he'd arrived, the bell jingling as the door closed behind him.

Fawkes flew as magnificently as he had the day Garrick had taken a feather from him.

The phoenix glided down into the Forbidden Forest as if it were a dance. Who could say how Fawkes managed to swoop through the branches without snagging its glittering golden tail, which swished across the forest floor as it landed on Dumbledore's outstretched arm. As it folded its impressive wingspan at its sides, the bird puffed itself out in a brief, frenetic shiver before settling again.

Garrick regarded it warily, from a distance. He couldn't be certain in the dark, but Fawkes appeared to be strong and healthy and nowhere near a Burning Day.

Dumbledore turned to Garrick. "I ASSUME — "

Garrick nearly fell to the ground, clutching his ears as Dumbledore's voice reverberated around them, and Fawkes flapped its wings in alarm. Dumbledore shot Garrick an amused, apologetic look and nullified the charm at his throat.

"You did that on purpose," Garrick said, massaging his temples.

"I would never." Dumbledore smiled. "I assume you'll want to return to your workshop?"

"Yes. All my materials are back in Diagon Alley." Garrick proffered his arm. "I'll bring us directly into the shop, I suppose."

"Actually," Dumbledore said, "would you be opposed to traveling by different means?"

Garrick frowned for a moment, confused, and then realization dawned on him. "Is it safe?"

"I wouldn't advise you try it with other phoenixes, but with Fawkes, it's a perfectly reliable form of transport."

Fawkes cocked his head at Garrick, who hesitated. "What do I need to do?" Garrick asked.

"Stepping a tad closer would be a good start, I think."

He was still a significant distance from Dumbledore and his phoenix. The bird opened its beak, and one soft, clear note echoed through the forest.

Fern hadn't been as good with phoenixes as she was with unicorns. Five years ago, at the top of Mount Kailash, she and Garrick had rested briefly in their tent after two freezing days' worth of unsuccessful hunting. That morning, Garrick heard her put the kettle on, and he emerged from his bedroom to find her sipping tea, lost in thought as she stared, bleary-eyed, into the middle distance.

"All this work," she had grumbled, "and the wand may just go to some quill-twiddler who uses it to enchant paper airplanes at the Ministry of Magic."

"Not everyone can go on adventures," Garrick had said, examining the flute that he used to attract nearby phoenixes.

She'd frowned with a smile. "That's the funny little myth of the wizarding world, though, isn't it? We can certainly all go on adventures."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, bringing Garrick back to the present. "We don't have a great deal of time left," he said.

Garrick took an unsteady breath and strode forward, and, just as he reached Dumbledore, smoldering ringlets began to swirl around the phoenix until the three of them were suddenly, terrifyingly engulfed in flames. Garrick gave a shout as nothing but fire filled his line of sight, and then, abruptly, the only lights before his eyes were the tall lanterns along the cobbled road of Diagon Alley.

Garrick was trembling uncontrollably, and he stumbled to his right. Clouds of vapor poured off their bodies in the brisk air as the fire around them dissipated, and yet Garrick was unharmed.

Dumbledore seemed delighted by Garrick's reaction as Fawkes settled on his arm. "I'm shocked you've never traveled by phoenix before. What did you think?"

"Albus, that was... that was..." He was exhaling in short bursts, trying to gain control of himself. "Phenomenal."

"Quite the thrill, isn't it?" Dumbledore said. "And the further one travels, the more exhilarating it is, I find."

"I think I felt this way once in 1927, when Florean convinced me to smoke some crushed Billywig stings."

"Did you, now? What a compelling endorsement for narcotics."

"Albus, if I die of a heart attack tonight, you'll have my wife to contend with."

Dumbledore chuckled, and the two of them started walking toward the wand shop.

Garrick glanced over at Fawkes atop Dumbledore's shoulder. "When was your phoenix's last Burning Day?" he asked

"Seven years ago. In fact, it's his birthday today, in a sense."

Garrick stared. "You don't say."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I fed him his favorite meal this morning. All the learned experts say that phoenixes most enjoy the gum of frankincense, but, in fact, I've found over the years that there's nothing Fawkes fancies more than a plate full of flobberworms. He prefers them toasted, to Hagrid's great distress."

Garrick fumbled with the key as they reached the wand shop, unable to stop inspecting Fawkes out of the corner of his eye. Its scarlet feathers shone so brightly against the shop's grimy windows and chipping black paint that he wondered if there was still some fire smoldering beneath them. A soft warmth emanated from the bird still, like a recently extinguished bonfire.

The bell bounced against the door as he opened it, and Fawkes left the headmaster's shoulder to glide inside while Dumbledore followed. Garrick's eyes adjusted in the gloom. Even as a cold wind blew into the shop, he lingered at the entrance, his hand on the door. Fawkes perched atop a lamp on the counter, eying him, and the two held each other's gaze.

"And you're fine with all of this, then, are you?" Garrick asked with narrowed eyes.

Fawkes blinked back at him.

"I used to be just as confident in my abilities," he muttered, shutting the door with a snap. He walked behind the counter, took out his wand — hornbeam, dragon heartstring, eleven and three-quarter inches, brittle — and began to summon his materials. His favorite carving knife and sanding stone flew out of a nearby drawer; a tape measure and his bottle of almond oil emerged from a cupboard behind him. He flicked his wand above his head, and a bottle of firewhisky eventually appeared at the top of the rickety staircase, spinning rapidly in the air down towards him. Garrick caught the bottle smartly in one hand.

Dumbledore said, "And the firewhisky is for — ?"

"For me."

"Of course." Dumbledore smiled. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

Garrick waved distractedly. "Be my guest." As Dumbledore conjured himself a glass, Garrick took a sip from his own conjured glass, peering at Fawkes. The phoenix pecked and picked up the tape measure, and it bobbed as Garrick reached for it, trying to keep it away. Out of pure habit, Garrick took advantage of the distraction. He set down his glass and, in one swift motion, plucked a feather from Fawkes' breast so quickly that the phoenix didn't even flinch. Fawkes looked up at him, tape measure still in his beak, as Garrick examined the feather.

"Adept, as always," Dumbledore said, and Garrick glanced up with a start. "Will that do for a core?"

"I think it'll do very nicely, yes," he murmured. "If memory serves, it's roughly the same size as the core that... as the previous core. But this is a feather near the heart, while the last one was a tail feather."

"Ah, interesting. Do you think that will be an important difference?"

Garrick ground his teeth. "We'd better hope so, shouldn't we?"

Dumbledore hummed noncommittally.

"Albus, I'm surprised that you of all people are so nonchalant about the possibility that I might be replicating the Dark Lord's wand."

"I think," Dumbledore said after a thoughtful sip, "the most important difference is not in the materials themselves, but in the state of mind of the wandmaker."

"Ah, marvelous — a wand injected with fear, trepidation and doubt."

"Well, that certainly would be quite different than Voldemort's state of mind, would it not?"

Garrick flinched at the name. He shook his head and picked up the branch of holly and his carving knife. How had he found himself in this situation? Not three hours ago, he'd been discussing Food Freezing Charms with Fortie.

"For the record," Dumbledore continued, "I would not characterize it as fear. I believe it's something more akin to humility."

Garrick took his frustration out on the branch, carving with a blur of quick, deliberate knife strokes. "You are not the first to attempt to bend the business practices of this shop to your will, Albus."

For a while, the only sound in the workshop was the knife quietly scraping against soft wood, small shavings hitting the table. Finally, Dumbledore spoke.

"If my request is in such direct opposition to what you think is best, Garrick, I will bid you goodnight and be on my way. But I know you have always carried on, doing what is right, regardless of any such attempts to sway you otherwise."

Garrick cursed as the knife caught harshly on what was now a roughly finished wand. "Well," he grumbled, "now there's a flaw in the wood, so what do you propose we do now?"

"You've always told me that magic thrives in asymmetry and imperfection. How else could humans be suitable vessels for magic?"

Garrick ran his thumb along the wand, then grasped the knife and split the wood down the middle. As he carved a trench in one of the halves, he noticed that the feather had inched closer to the wood as it took shape. "And what poor, pathetic vessels men are for magic," Garrick said. "Cruel, selfish, destructive. They use magic to attain the same loathsome goals, century after century, generation after generation. And what do the Ollivanders do? Why, we help them focus those desires, don't we? We make it easier for them to injure, to kill, and to destroy."

"My dear friend, Fern would have thought it the greatest tragedy in the world to hear you speak of magic so —"

BANG! A great cloud of glittering silver dust filled the room, and Garrick breathed heavily, gripping one half of the coreless wand with a white-knuckled hand as the smoke cleared, revealing Dumbledore calmly clutching his cheek. A thin drop of blood seeped into his beard.

"I knew there was more to that holly that meets the eye," Dumbledore said.

"You dare mention her name," Garrick said, "now, of all times? When you've strongarmed me into making a wand with a twin core of her murderer's?"

"Garrick, please. If I am truly forcing you into something against your will, then —"

"And what is my will, Albus?" Garrick demanded. Even he had not expected rudimentary magic to emerge from such an unfinished tool, but his blood was pounding in his ears and he pointed the wand half at Dumbledore like a madman. "I am certain you know, otherwise you would not be so confident in your bluff to walk out the door. You know as well as I do — better than I do — that even now, still, after everything, I would never pass up the opportunity to bring such great magic into the world again. Especially when the phoenix feather is plucked under a Mourning Moon, while the phoenix is seven years out from a Burning Day, precisely. Why, you've placed a great tankard of goblin-made ale in front of a drunkard who's spent his last Sickle!"

"I am trying to remind a great craftsman of something he's forgotten."

"Albus, let me forget. I beg you."

"I know it feels a fitting penance, to give up everything." For a fleeting instant, Garrick thought he saw a flare of pain in Dumbledore's eyes. "There is a duality to magic, yes, but —"

"I made and sold the wand that killed her." Garrick's voice cracked. "I didn't protect her. I didn't even know she was there."

"You mustn't blame yourself for —"

"But I must, Albus! You don't understand, the — the curse, it was... Albus, it was — exquisite. Such great fury, distilled so casually and with such great precision. It was elegant. Superb. I think of it as often as I think of her."

Fawkes bristled, and Dumbledore watched Garrick sadly. The wandmaker set the carved holly branch on the counter and brought his hand to his face. A steady tick tock, tick tock from a grandfather clock in the corner was the only noise in the shop. He wondered if Dumbledore would take the feather and leave. Garrick wondered if he would let him.

"Garrick," Dumbledore began, "you are not —" He stopped abruptly, and both men turned as they heard a sound on the staircase. Elspeth Ollivander was standing romrad still, her hand on the bannister as she stared down at Garrick.

His wife didn't look horrified. She only looked sad.

"Elsie," he rasped, "how — how long have you been there?"

"The bell always wakes me up." She descended slowly, her eyes on the phoenix who was staring back at her. She reached the bottom of the staircase and looked at her husband. "Is it finished?" she asked.

He blinked, in a daze.

"Have you finished the wand?" she repeated.

He shook his head adamantly. "You don't have to worry. I won't do it." He thought about setting the carved holly down on the counter, thought about knocking it to the floor. But the unfinished wand remained clutched in his hand, trembling at his side. "I won't make it. I won't make another wand."

Elspeth studied him for a long moment. "You ought to use Fawkes," she said, "for the pyromancy."

"Pyromancy?" He shook his head, incredulous. "Fawkes' feather alone will lend the wand a great deal of erratic strength. You want me to craft a wand that's even more unpredictable?" His hand drifted absentmindedly to the seam of his cloak. He paused, thinking.

Elspeth pulled her dressing gown tighter around herself, frowning slightly. "Didn't you always fear what the fire could burn away?"

"Certainly." His hand was still at his cloak. "Without question."

She was staring off into the middle distance. She and Fern always wore the same expression, whenever they disagreed with him. "She always knew the importance of burning away the darkness," Elspeth said.

Garrick glanced at the counter. The feather had inched closer to him, as his wife spoke. He swallowed and, with a glance at Dumbledore, removed his cloak from his shoulders. Elspeth watched as he ripped out the seam with both hands. It had been three years since he'd laid eyes on Fern's wand, and every groove in the wood, every small chip was exactly as he remembered it. He held his daughter's wand in his left hand, as she once had. Garrick exhaled and frowned at the ceiling, struggling to remember something forgotten. He raised the wand half in his hand. Then, in a firm and resonant voice, he began to chant.

The incantation came out in a long, dizzying string of Greek. He felt a sudden pressure in his ears, and the temperature in the room rose sharply. Dumbledore smiled. Elspeth breathed in deeply, and closed her eyes.

For the first several minutes, nothing happened as Garrick spoke, but he kept a steady pace of words and breaths, using Fern's wand to imbue the holly with magic and prepare it for the fire ritual. The phoenix feather inched closer, closer along the counter until it drifted up toward his hands and nestled itself in the trench that he'd carved.

Garrick slowed the incantation and picked up the other wand half, closing it over the feather as he turned to Fawkes. Smoldering ringlets were swirling around the phoenix again, and Fawkes breathed out a thin, soft stream of golden fire that lifted the wand out of his hands and into the air, resealing the wood, smoothing and shining one end of the wand and scorching a charred handle of rough bark onto the other. The flames illuminated the shop and three people in it, who watched the wand form in the space between them.

The fire dissipated, and Garrick took out his wand to levitate the newly finished wand just as it fell. He reached for it gingerly. It was warm to the touch, but did not burn his hand. He ran his thumb over the new wand, noting the imperfections with satisfaction.

"I rather think that wand will choose someone good," Dumbledore said.

"Someone great, I imagine," Garrick said distractedly.

Dumbledore hummed noncommittally.

Garrick crossed the room, and placed Fern's wand on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window of the shop. "This feels right," he said, "for her to make the wands we sell, from now on." Elspeth murmured in agreement, staring at her daughter's wand.

Garrick looked down at the new wand in his other hand, considering it. He still needed to test it.

He turned to Dumbledore. "Accio winnings," Garrick said, and a sudden shower of coins emerged from Dumbledore's robes, clinking in the air. Garrick levitated all the coins at once, made them flutter around the room — each column's movement one beat ahead of the next, so they all seemed to be caught in ocean waves of glinting silver and gold.

He swished the wand back in the air, and the Galleons and Sickles returned to Dumbledore's pockets.

Elspeth smiled. "Fern always did get her way."

"Quite," Garrick said. "Like someone else I know."

"I can't imagine who you're talking about," Dumbledore said. "I always defer to the experts."

Garrick chuckled and raised the wand, casting a flurry of charms that filled the shop with magic and light.

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spaceskam · 4 years

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Moirai (7/7)

Thank you so much to everyone who has read and kept up with my bullshit, I appreciate you all so much!

Summary: Michael explains and things make sense.

ao3

Alex was in hell.

All he could do was sit and watch as Michael stayed frozen in his little barrier. The worst part was he literally couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. He had stopped crying, but his worry and anxiety never wavered. He stayed put behind the barrier, prepared to catch him whenever it broke. Isobel had somehow fallen asleep in the two hours doing nothing as they waited and it was irritating at the least, but he tried to ignore it. This was going to be okay.

When Michael eventually came to, it happened extremely fast. The barrier evaporated and Michael gasped to life, scrambling to his feet and grabbing for Alex like a lifeline. Alex grabbed him easily and let him ball up in his lap and breathe heavily against his neck. Kyle quickly got the tablet far away from him. Isobel woke up.

“I got you,” Alex whispered, shushing him and stroking his hair while Michael just dug his fingertips into his skin.

He stayed there for a while, long enough for everyone around them to start getting irritated that he wasn’t speaking. Alex didn’t really care. Maria had the baby for the night; he had no intention to let go. Even when Michael eventually cooled down enough to talk, he kept his head burrowed into Alex’s neck and his hands clutching his shirt.

“Okay,” Michael said, letting out a heavy breath, “Okay.”

Alex continued to rub his back as everyone got prepared to listen to whatever the hell just happened.

“Are you okay, though?” Alex asked. Michael nodded slowly, but continued to clutch onto him.

“What was that?” Max wondered. Michael sniffled and nuzzled into Alex.

“It, uh, like psychically showed me the past, I guess,” Michael answered, huffing a laugh. Alex squeezed his arm.

Michael then launched into a detailed story, ignoring all the questions they asked him until he was done. He told them a tale of his mother’s strength and how she reminded him of Alex. He explained that he and Felicity were basically scientifically bonded, though it seemed like it was more than that too, he just didn’t understand it enough. They just called him her Keeper. Then he said how his mother had pushed him in the pod and basically allowed herself to take the blame for literally everything, meaning there was a chance they interrogated her the most. Alex didn’t have the heart to tell him that he wasn’t wrong.

“Okay, but what about the tablet?” Liz prodded as soon as he was done. Michael shrugged.

“I think it was in the bag my mom gave me before she put me in the pod.”

“But what is it? It didn’t give you like a history of its own structure, only your mom?” Isobel asked. Michael shrugged. Alex pressed a kiss to his head.

“It sounds like it was more of a transference of your mother’s psyche. She, like, psychically connected it to herself so she could teach you and then when she died, maybe it just got, like, desperate,” Alex suggested, “Because the first time you were near it, while it made you a little fuzzy, it didn’t latch onto you. The more it was sure it was you, the more it stole your attention. I’m thinking it was just extremely desperate to tell you what it was. Now its job’s done.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still taking it away just in case,” Kyle said. Michael nodded.

“I’m still confused about something,” Max said, his eyebrows furrowed and looking genuinely troubled, “Was your mom, like, a prostitute or something?”

Alex put his hand on Michael’s cheek, keeping him pressed against his shoulder so he didn’t get defensive.

“No,” Michael said, surprisingly calm, “She was the King’s Keeper and married to the High General.”

“But… she was…”

“She was banging your aunt, get over it.”

Isobel and Liz smiled, patting his back as he seemed to continue to struggle understanding how that exactly worked. Alex just rolled his eyes and held Michael close. Michael nuzzled his nose under his chin, breathing him in slow.

“Are you okay, though?” Alex asked again, “You just got a lot of information.”

“Yeah, I did,” Michael nodded, “All I ever wanted was information and I just got it. And you know what the best part was?”

Alex relaxed a little. “What?”

“Nothing I saw told me I couldn’t be with you,” Michael said.

Alex closed his eyes in relief.

“Thanks, Maria.”

“No problem, we’re good friends.”

Unlike whenever they’d pick up Felicity from Isobel’s, they were able to walk into Maria’s apartment and nothing looked out of place. It all looked exactly how they left it.

“Sorry if she rearranged things,” Michael said, making a beeline for the baby that was on a thick pallet in the living room and surrounded by trinkets. He pulled Felicity into his arms and cuddled her close, something she seemed equally joyous about.

“Nope, we didn’t have that problem,” Maria said simply. Michael and Alex both looked at with furrowed eyebrows. If they left Felicity with Isobel for a couple of hours, she would wreck the house. They leave her overnight with a psychic and suddenly it’s not a problem.

“How?” Alex asked. She shrugged, smiling at the baby who was cuddled up to Michael but still gave her a little coo in response.

“Well, she tried, and I told her that it wasn’t fun,” Maria said, “So she stopped.”

“She just… stopped?”

“Listen, children understand more than you give them credit for. I mean, she still levitated a few things, but it wasn’t completely out of control once I explained that I didn’t like it. Plus, I gave her some things to play with and she really seemed to take to them. It really evened out her control, I think,” she said, walking over to poke at Felicity’s cheeks and getting a shriek of laughter in response.

Michael looked around at the things she’d given her to play with and saw a few different items that he’d been previously threatened if he touched. Namely, a slightly disturbing mask, a small wooden boat, and a large bulky necklace that anyone had only ever seen Mimi DeLuca wear. Then, surrounding the pallet, was a deck of tarot cards.

“You gave our baby tarot cards?” Alex asked before he could and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get chills. Our baby.

“I had a few decks and she seemed drawn to that one,” Maria said simply, sitting on the couch, “I’m thinking she has a bright future in being a psychic.”

“Uh-huh,” Michael laughed.

They talked for a few more minutes before they both kissed the top of Maria’s head goodbye and she gave them all hugs, including Felicity. It felt so weirdly normal and just like a part of life. Felicity was no longer someone’s baby that they were confused about what they should do.

She was theirs and that was it.

Alex peeled back the sheets of the bed and climbed into his side. He watched Michael do the same, face fresh-shaven and chest bare. He looked good and he wasted no time in crossing the middle of the bed to give Alex a kiss goodnight. It was all paired with the soft rustle of the baby monitor and Alex’s heart was thudding in his chest. How domestic.

“So, have you thought about what exactly we’re going to tell people? Now that we are for sure going to keep her and raise her and that no one is going to come and kill us for it?” Alex asked. Michael huffed a laugh and settled into the pillow.

“I mean, I was hoping that, if you’re open to it, of course, we just raise her together and tell people we adopted. No one really needs to think more than that,” Michael suggested. Alex smiled easily.

“I want that,” Alex said. Michael smiled like the sun and kissed him once more, breathing slow and steady.

“Thank god, I need you to help raise her so I don’t ruin her,” he said. Alex laughed and kissed him once more, tucking his hair back. It was so easy. Everything felt okay. “We can just explain to her the actual situation when she’s older, like, fifteen or something.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s best.”

Michael took a heavy breath, grinning like a mad man. It was the best thing he’d ever seen.

“Okay, Daddy,” Michael said. Alex grimaced, laughed softly.

“Stop.”

Alex reached over to the nightstand and flicked the light switch he had installed beside his bed. The room engulfed in darkness and Michael cuddled up into his chest easily. It was beginning to feel so natural to just be with each other. Apparently, when they had other things to shove their worries onto, they didn’t have the worst time trying to be a couple. In fact, they worked well.

Michael’s job was inherently to take care of Felicity. She is in his blood, in his veins, and yet it gave them an excuse to get their shit together. Alex couldn’t even bring himself to feel excluded about anything‒he fit too perfectly to be jealous about the situation. They were a unit rather than pieces glued together. They were already more of a family than Alex had ever had growing up.

He didn’t want it any other way.

“I guess this is a good time to tell you I can apparently control fire.”

#moirai #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm #rnm fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #alex manes #alex manes fic

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