#it will uhhh make more sense later why hes here??? hopefully | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fakeloveaskblog · 2 years

Note

(my heat bRoke in seven different ways reading that oh my god)

hey janus! hi. uh. do you perhaps have a uh nice message for remy? something hopeful, etc etc. just...i really think they need it right now.

‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾

remy. you may be asleep, if so you'll hear this in some weird drug dream, i'm not completely sure right now, nothing seems to be in my control at the moment. i'm just here to remind you that i do have the power to help you.

i have the power to move you and your belongings, you have options, you have friends and you can have hope.

also consider that i can keep virgil extremely safe. i suppose we all can. also, virgil uhm...may need help. whilst it be therapy or more...drastic...measures...he'll be safe under our collective, begrudging, protection.

now please dont feel pressured at all, you are always under your free will and have every right to ignore my stupid face, but at the same time...he hit you! ((and worse but i dont want to overly upset them)) i cant...i cant just sit around and give to inspiring quotes or some shit, that wont do anything. i'm not good at this.

from someone with a trauma packed past, i can help. whatever you need. i dont care if it seems small. please tell me, just...we're all here. for you.

im sorry i havent been very comforting at all. i am, however, learning to sew plushies! or trying to. don't ask the science behind a sewing snail-

-🐌🕸

(>:D)

Tw: drug use, there are like 2 sentences with transphobia in them

Janus looked up from the stack of books he was sorting "A nice message?" He thought for a bit "Well I believe this is a quite well known fact so they might have heard this before, but the body completely renews itself slowly over a 7 year cycle. So it's truly never too late to change since the body never stops changing either. The traces from someone hurting you will disappear, even if it takes time, it will be gone eventually"

They looked like they were about to explode if they didn't get to blurt out this next part.

"Also I miss them a lot and I hope they're feeling okay and I hope they're not going through a flare up and every time I walk past a bakery I get the urge to go in and buy them a bunch of tasty lil cute cakes...Yeah"

They set the books back into the bookcase before suddenly stopping midmotion and turning to you.

"Wait- Why would Remy need that sort of message right now? Are they okay? Please tell me they're okay"

Remy wasn't asleep but they sure were high. They were sitting on the floor in the living room with the side of their head leant against the coffee table. Some ketamine had smeared down onto their lips. Their skull felt like it was filled with a bunch of very very small fireworks all going off constantly. They could almost see the lights in front of them.

It also gave them a massive headache, but they couldn't feel it so it was fine. They couldn't feel the joint pain or the aching around their neck or the bruises on their body. The sounds coming from the kitchen was far away and so distorted it was making them giggle.

They'd woken up at around 5 this morning to puke. They'd found new bruises around their neck and wrists and Virgil babbling on about how he had to go visit his parents and they had had exactly 0 memories of what had happened the night before. They didn't ask about it. Maybe it was for the best not to remember. Even if it was making terror run up their spine just thinking about how they didn't know.

When they saw your shell sticking up on the other side of the table soon followed by your big eyes they managed to let up into a smile. A small pool of warm snail goo came onto the table and they gladly dunked their tired eyes right into it.

"something is always in your control babey” They replied as your message began “You can control whenever the fuck you wanna like smile. or like shoplift. very important! remember that! never lose hope!!" Their voice was much higher than usual.

Their smile went stale as you brought up how to help. They sunk in a little on themself.

"I-" They hesitated "Viv- Virgil making sure we're away from each other for a few days is a good sign isn't it? Maybe he'll change! maybe everything will like go back to normal! He loves me and I love him and-" His threat about killing himself echoed in their mind "And I'm so scared"

They moved a little closer and leant their head against your shell. Just being near you made the deep fog in their mind light up a little for just a moment. For a moment they remembered how Virgil acted even before strangling them. The dismissive silences. The deafening yells. The constant minimizing until they were too afraid to ask something as simple as help in getting out of the shower.

They wondered if there even was a "normal" they wanted to go back to.

"I need a pen" They whispered to you.

Within seconds a pen had appeared in their hand. They scribbled down on the inside of their wrist a few quick words about what you'd just said.

"Sorry I'm like really really stupid right now. Even more stupid than usual. If I don't write it down I'm like def gonna forget" They mumbled this next part to themself "hope...i can have...hope"

They hesitated to write down that they had friends that could help. They put the pen down and looked to you.

"You sure I have friends?....I mean....I mean I know Jannie likes me...but" Their shoulders started to shake "What if Viv is right about them. What if they only want me for- for THAT!? And Remus- I haven't spoken to him for months! What if he's like forgotten about me! Or has stopped giving a shit about me at all! I bet that if I like tried to call him it would be like super awkward and he would wanna hang up like immediately and like avoid me for the rest of forever!! Ugh I've screwed it up! I've lost him haven't I! And-"

They turned to look to the kitchen.

"Well I haven't asked him. I don't know if he counts as a friend yet. I hope he does"

They shook their head and turned back to writing on their skin. A breathe of relief left their lips when they heard you could keep Virgil safe. They wrote that up on their wrist as well.

"Oh babey you don't got a stupid face, and you are good at this I tots promise you that. You feel real safe and like soft even if like 75% of you is like a super hard shell....Sometimes I....Sometimes it's good to hear someone say the quiet parts out loud....like just hearing someone say that Viv....that he hit me.....it makes me feel less like....insane....overemotional...and all that stuff....it makes it.....real.......it has to be real if i leave...If"

Remy reached out and held their hand gently against one of your snail eyes.

"Sweetie I'm sorry to hear 'bout your past. You didn't deserve any of it, that I'm sure of. If you're ever up for like a hug or anything just tell me. I might be a stick but I could probs fit you in my arms"

After you had asked if there was anything you could do to help they thought for a bit.

".....this is probs a stupid thing to ask....but could you somehow make it so one of the doors is lockable?....the bathroom is closest to the exit door so maybe that one? it would help with...with me feeling safe.."

They fumbled with their thumbs a little. It felt so silly to ask these kinds of things.

"And- And oh god you're gonna think I'm so fucking stupid for letting this happen but..but i don't know where like....all of my documents and stuff are.......i don't know where my credit card is.....where the doctor's note i need to take out my meds are.......i think Viv has them somewhere...he said i was unstable and stupid and that it was better if he took care of those kinds of things...I like obviously need that stuff if I'm gonna leave so uhm could you somehow like gather them up? I got a bag hidden in the closet, could you put them in there please?"

They hesitated before saying this last bit.

"Could you...This might be a big thing to ask....But....If I- If I l-leave....could you make sure Viv got therapy? Even if you have to force him there? Please it would...It would make me sleep bet-"

The door to the kitchen swung open and the man who functioned as Remy's dealer came out with a big plate.

"And here they are. All done. My wonderful empanadas"

He was about the same height as Remy but had a broader stature and a normal amount of muscles, making him look like a jacked beast in comparison to them. He had half long strawberry blond hair tied in a lazy ponytail. Light red freckles were scattered all over his face down to his shoulders and his brown eyes bordered on hazel. He had stick and poke tattoos all over his left arm and his clothes constantly smelt like cigarette smoke.

He made Remy scoot over before sitting down on the couch. They immediately curled up against his side and mushed their face against his arm.

"thanks for like coming over to help while Vivs away" They mumbled out.

"It was no bother really"

Remy took one of the empanadas and tried it. They got the urge to spit it out immediately afterwards. "Girl this tastes like shit"

The dealer snickered "Sorry. Seems like I lied about the wonderful part. I learnt the recipe from my ex. She told me they tasted good"

"Then she was a liar"

He moved his hand down to gently stroke his thumb against their cheek "Is the ket helping with the pain?"

"Mhm, thanks"

Surprising exactly no one Remy had gotten attached incredibly quickly to the dealer as soon as Virgil had allowed them to text him whenever they wanted. Only being with their abuser for most days was so isolating that every time the dealer had texted them it had felt like being washed over by a wave of comfort. It reminded them they were a real person and not just Virgil's partner.

Remy let him decide on a movie they could watch while eating. He took some bloody slasher from the 70's and laughed during every killing scene. Meanwhile Remy covered their eyes and cuddled closer to his warm skin to try and hide how they were shaking. He moved his arm around them and played with the loose parts of their hair.

Halfway through the movie he ran out to buy them both some chips and ice cream because neither of them had been able to finish any substantial amount of those horrid empanadas.

The credits were running when Remy let their head rest in his lap. They scratched at his tiny blond beard to annoy him. He just rolled his eyes and let them keep at it.

"Girlie-"

"Do I look like a girlie to you?" He replied "You need prescription contacts"

Remy laughed "I'm just...I'm just wondering bout stuff"

"You becoming a philosopher over here?"

"No. Im just...if I ever had to like leave suddenly...I'm like wondering if you would...If you would be okay with me like staying at your place for a while? I'm just like checking my options"

A soft look came over his face. His lips dragged up into a small smile "Of course I'd let you stay. For however long you want. Though my apartment is kind of a shithole. Just a warning"

"Girl we got rats in the shower here. I ain’t looking for a 5 star hotel"

His brows furrowed just a bit in worry. He let his finger lightly run across the bruise around their neck "Is there any reason you would want to leave?"

It took all of their power to not flinch away "Girl oh my gosh!!! Don't be so like tots silly!!!!" They replied in a forcibly higher pitch "There ain't no reason!!! I'm just like uh I just enjoy sleeping around!! You know me!! Sleeping around in uh people's uh beds!! Y'know my body is like toooottttsss fucked up. I bruise like soooo easilllyyyyyyy. Me and my Vivsie can't do annnnnything interesting in bed without me looking like I was halfway to getting murdered!!"

He didn't look convinced. He only let out a short "Sounds rough"

"It is!!"

He scooted them away again and got up "Actually Remy I've been meaning to give you something"

Remy giggled to themself "Is it a hard cock? JUST Kidding!!! ONly kidding!! I couldn't like help myself. Also I'm high on ketamine"

"You are, exactly. And this thing mixed with ket is great I promise" He went out to the kitchen and got a glass of water. Obviously it wasn’t just a normal glass of water "It isn't dangerous to mix it. I know this kind of stuff so you don't have to worry your pretty little head about it. Okay?"

"Okay"

He sat down close to them and held the glass up to their lips. They put their hand on top of his and met his eyes as they drank. The water tasted weirdly salty, almost bitter.

"It might take a bit to set in" He said as he put the glass aside.

He moved his arm around their shoulders and put on a short horror film while they waited. When Remy started to go numb in his arms and their eyelids started to go down he let them lean their head against his thigh.

"You feeling okay deary?" He asked.

They opened their mouth to respond and this exact slurred mess came out "i gho lekuf fkty"

They shook their head and blinked repeatedly to try and clear their head but somehow the fireworks still going off in their mind had turned hazy and blurred. A fog surrounded them.

"Oh wow. That started acting FAst. You've never been on that before huh"

"i fheel so so blur" Remy managed to get out.

"Mhm. I wasn't lying about letting you stay at my place but I do have some questions. I'll start with the easy one. What's your real name? 'Cause I’m sure 'Remy' isn't"

"....remington" They replied after a few seconds as if they actually had to think about it.

"No. No deary I mean your original name. Your birth name"

Remy stared up at him with a confused look for a long while before slurring out their deadname.

"Thanks deary. That does suit you better. It's such a shame" He ran his hand up and down their arm "You're such a pretty boy"

He ran his hand down to their bruised wrist and held it up to look at the now purple skin.

"You want to tell me why you actually got these bruises?"

Remy's eyes were half closed as they shook their head.

"Oh c'mon deary. I'm only asking because I'm worried. I care about you"

Just trying to think was giving Remy a headache. Their jaw was almost slack as they started to slur out "vivssie virgegil he strangel and he-"

They went on explaining the bruises. Explaining exactly what had happened. Tears went down their cheeks just talking about it but they didn't notice. Until their eyelids turned too heavy to hold open.

The birds were singing outside and the sun was blinding by the time Remy woke up. They were so sweaty their body was sticking to the couch and their head felt like it had been filled with cotton. As soon as they even tried to turn their head intense nausea filled their entire throat.

A blanket had been laid over their slightly twitchy body. A bucket had been set right by the couch and on the coffee table was a glass of orange juice along with a sandwich and a note.

Remy saw your snail eyes sticking up right beside the couch and they shone up into a relaxed smile.

"Babey, you're still here. Right we were-"

It felt like a shot of lightning came down into their skull as they tried to remember the previous night. All they could piece together was hazey memories of your conversation and then the dealer stepping into the room. After that everything was just....Blank.

They reached out and took the note. It was sweet and short. Telling them to have a good breakfast and saying sorry for him having to hurry off to work. Lastly there was a short explanation about how Remy had apparently told him about their sleeping problems last night and he'd gotten them some sleeping pills which they hadn't reacted well too. So if they were feeling groggy or nauseous that was why.

Remy pressed the note close to their chest and smiled. When they saw the way you were looking they blushed a little.

"Babey don't look at me like that! I ain't crushing! He's like over 30 which is like right at the edge of the age I could even consider. I'm only enjoying having a friend okay" They weren't lying.

They saw their wrists and the scribbled down notes on it. They froze just a little. Their gaze landed on the door leading out of the apartment. They were all alone. Nothing was stopping them. If they wanted to they could just...leave.

"You can keep Viv safe. You can make sure he stays safe. You can make sure me leaving doesn't break him" They mumbled to themself.

They gritted their teeth together and sat up in the couch.

"Oh but what if- No Viv won't change- But he's trying- But he has hurt me for years- Maybe I can survive through it if I got a locked door to hide behind- I shouldn't have too survive! But I love him!"

Remy crumbled in on themself. Their hands tangled into their hair and they leant forward so their forehead leant on the couch. Tears started to pool at the edges of their eyes.

Angry tears.

"I'm so tired of having to fucking survive! I'm so tired of having to fucking love him!"

They gripped onto their cane and forced themself up on their shaky legs. Every step made whimpers from pain leave their lips. The furious tears rolled down their cheeks.

"I'm so tired of this shitty apartment! I'm so tired of having my cane taken from me! I'm so tired of my actual physical fucking pain being ignored!"

They leant their other arm onto the hallway wall as they forced themself forward.

"I'm so tired of having to drag myself out of the shower! I'm so tired of him treating every single one of his insults like jokes! I'm so tired of him thinking fucking will fix every one of our issues! I'm so tired! I'm so tired! I'm so fucking tired!"

Remy held their hand against the door leading out of the apartment. The wood was cold against their skin. The key was sitting in the lock. All they had to do was turn it and they could leave. Nothing was stopping them. No one was stopping them.

Their breathe stopped in their throat. They couldn’t breathe. It turned into hyperventilating. Their whole body started to shake and they couldn’t breathe!

"I'm....I'm so weak"

The tears had dried on their cheeks. They leant their forehead against the door and collapsed onto their knees. The cane fell down against the ground behind them.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You- You've all been trying so hard an-and I stay pathetic and weak and I can't even open a door" They banged their forehead against the wood "I can't even open a fucking door!"

Remy moved their arms around themself and closed their eyes as tightly as they could. The hyperventilating didn’t stop.

"I'm so weak and pathetic and stupid and I'm so scared of who am I without him. I'm so scared of not loving him. I'm so scared of leaving him just to discover that Jan- That Rem- That I have no one who loves me left"

Every bruise on their body ached. Their neck ached. They wrists ached. Their cheek ached. Every little fingerprint Virgil had left on them ached.

"My dad abused me. He hit me all my childhood...And now...And now Virgil is...What if I'm just made for this? What if I was born to- to be used- to be some thing people can take their anger out on- What if I leave and- and I end up in another- What if I just keep being abused? What if it doesn't matter if I leave? Maybe Virgil is the best I'll ever get? Maybe people can just instantly tell I'm made for this- what if- What if Janus takes me in and then- and he starts- he uses me as well? There's no end to it. I'm made for it. It doesn't matter. I'm just too weak. I can't do this. I can't. I can't!"

#(remy uses babey completely platonically btw)#the mental image of a snail hard at work sewing is so funny fdhjkhk #thanks for the ask mdude <3 #ask #🐌🕸️#it feels like the dealer was just veery randomly inserted in here #sorry #it will uhhh make more sense later why hes here??? hopefully

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haikyuuuuuhypeeeee · 3 years

Text

Ch. Seventeen

⚠WARNING: Swearing

• ────── ✾ ────── •

For five days Osamu ignores you. Your texts go unanswered, calls are sent to voicemails, meet ups at the café are now solo trips.

You’re beyond upset at this point. If this is his way of needing space, that’s fine. You’d be okay with giving him space - you just need to know if he wants space. Having this awful radio silence between you is driving you mad. What if he’s sick? What if he needs to go to the hospital? He lives alone and his family isn’t close, and he hasn’t mentioned other friends to you before. You’ve talked plenty about Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki - surely he would’ve offered up stories about his friends if he had them, no?

But you also worry that you’ve done something to really offend him. He’s a pretty laid back guy (all things considered) so you must have really pissed him off if he’s resorting to ignoring all forms of communication.

You just need to know. Even if it will be the end of your friendship (something your brain isn’t ready to comprehend, thank you very much) you have to know why Osamu doesn’t want to talk to you.

So you’ve changed plans. You decide to skip afternoon classes and set up camp at the cafe. You knew he visited the cafe at least once a day, and you thought that maybe he was coming at different times to avoid you but you weren’t gonna let that happen so you would change your schedule and ambush him.

It was literally the only idea you could think of and at this point you were desperate.

“Jasmine tea, right?” The barista greets you when you step up to the register.

“Yes please,” you answer, reaching to grab your wallet from your bag.

“Hey, I haven’t seen that one guy who you’d been studying with in awhile. He used to come all the time.” The barista sets down your tea and types at the register. “What was his name, Osamu?”

You nod, trying to swallow your disappointment and pass over money to pay. If the employees here haven’t noticed Osamu coming in then maybe he is sick. And the odds of you coming across him here are slim to none.

You thank the barista and grab a table in a different spot of the cafe. The whole point of this is to change up your routine and try to see if Osamu will stop by. The last thing you want is for him to walk in, see you sitting at the table, and leave. You sit at your table, pull out your notebooks and get settled. Hopefully you can get some studying done while waiting.

A faint bell to indicate a new person coming in rings, and you nearly snap your neck to look in the direction of the front door. But it’s a young woman talking on her cell phone who walks in, not Osamu. You sigh to yourself and open your books.

~~~

The front door bell rings again, and like before you quickly look up. To your dismay, a group of three guys probably close to your age walk into the café and make their way to the register.

You’ve been at the café for 45 minutes and this time it’s the 10th time you’ve been tricked by someone walking in. You feel yourself wilt and look back down at your books, ignoring the stinging in your eyes. This is pointless.

“We’ve checked the campus all morning, and Shin combed the library top to bottom.”

The group of guys waiting in line are standing close enough to your new table that you can just hear what they’re saying. You don’t really eavesdrop on people, but it’s hard when they’re not really trying to keep quiet. And you had given up on your homework ages ago, so you just sit staring at the table while listening to the three friends talk.

“We know that he’s studying here. We should just go up to the registrar’s office and find out where he’s taking classes.” A second voice speaks up.

“Yeah, and how is that going to work?” The first guy was speaking again. “We’re going to waltz onto a campus of a school we don’t go to and what, ask nicely if they can tell us where our friend is? We’ll get the cops called on us for sure.”

“Enough.” The third friend spoke, and you didn’t have to look to know that his voice commanded an air of respect. “We’re here for a few more days, we cannot argue amongst ourselves.”

“Kita, it’s a big campus in a big city. It’s gonna take more than a miracle to find him.”

You look up and around the café, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the three guys who’s conversation you had overheard. The shorter friend takes his coffee from the barista with a nod and moves towards the sugar and creamer station. “Him ignoring our phone calls is making things difficult.” The guy paused again to pour sugar into his coffee. “But it’s his mother’s birthday soon, and I know she would like him to be home for it.” You look away to gaze outside but continue to listen (eavesdrop) to them. You can’t help but think that the shortest guy’s accent sounds very familiar to you.

“To hell with the birthday.” The second guy speaks again, sounding agitated. “Osamu should be home with us, not holed up in this city alone.”

Your head snaps in their direction again. The shorter man with black and white hair is nearly dwarfed by two other men, one dark-skinned and the other with dark hair parted down the center. The shorter man and dark-skinned man are busy making their coffees but the one with dark, parted hair catches your movement. You stare at each other, him having no problem holding your gaze. You watch him pull his phone out of his pocket, tap at the screen (without looking away) and bring the phone up. A quick flash and you realize that this stranger has taken your photograph.

What the hell?!

You start, not expecting the action and look back down abashed. This is what you get for eavesdropping, you dummy. You chance a quick glance and see the shorter man giving the photog a stern look. You look away again but you can’t shut your ears off as you hear them speak again.

“Delete that photo right now Suna.”

“But she was looking right at me!”

“Delete it.”

Footsteps approaching your table make you look up again and your pulse quickens when you realize the shorter man is approaching you. Behind him the dark-skinned man is scolding the other friend, both looking cross with each other. But you can’t focus on them as the short man has finally arrived at your table. To your massive surprise he bows in front of you.

“I sincerely apologize for my friend. I assure you that he deleted the photo he took and he will not be doing anything like that again.”

Hearing his voice you can definitely pick up the same accent Osamu has. His eyes are gentle and kind and he does look remorseful for his friend’s actions. “Uhhh, no worries.” You stammer out, still dazed by everything that is happening.

Before you can think to voice your confusion out loud the man bows again and takes his leave. He doesn’t get a few feet from your table before you're blurting out.

“I heard you talking about Osamu.”

The two friends hear you (as did everyone in the cafe) but they immediately make their way to your table. The dark-skinned man is looking at you with surprise but it’s the other friend’s face who catches you by surprise. He stomps over and leans down to your eye level.

“Where is he?” You’re taken aback by the ferociousness in his voice, and the frantic frazzled look in his eyes. The shorter man steps back to the table and rests a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“We’re friends of Osamu from back home, and we’re having trouble finding him. Are you a friend of his?”

“Uh, yes. Well, I think so.” You weren’t sure of your status now after he’s been ignoring your calls and messages.

“Well which is it?” The other man asks aggressively. You don’t get a chance to answer as you all hear the café door open and you turn to look at the newcomer.

Your heart flutters when you see Osamu walk through the door. It’s the first time you’ve seen him since realizing that you like him more than a friend, and besides relief at seeing him in person after he’s been ignoring you, you feel comfort at seeing him.

You meet his gaze and watch him stop in his steps when he sees you. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but it’s nothing compared to the look on his face when he takes in the full scene. Your heart twists when he pales, and before you can call out to him he takes off.

“Shit!” The man who took your photo takes off, expertly weaving through the small crowd in the café and following Osamu out the door. The second tall man chases after them a second later, having a bit more trouble getting through the other patrons.

The third, shortest friend remains, and you hear him heave a sigh. After a beat he speaks up. “May I join you?”

You start but not immediately. He doesn’t waste time in sitting down in the chair next to yours. Only when he gets situated do you realize what you’ve done - you’re letting someone who supposedly knows Osamu sit with you, someone that makes Osamu look like he’s seen a ghost and run away as fast as he can.

What if this man is dangerous? Did you just endanger Osamu’s life?

“We’re not here to hurt Osamu.” Your companion at your table speaks up. You have no idea how he was able to read your mind, and you feel even more suspicious. “My name is Kita Shinsuke - the one who took your photo is Suna Rintarou, and our other friend is Aran Ojiro. We’re friends of Osamu’s from Hyogo.”

You nod at his introduction, but you’re not buying it. Saying outright that you’re not going to hurt someone is exactly what someone who wants to hurt someone else would say.

Kita must sense your hesitation again and he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his phone, taps the screen and sets it on the table facing you. He nudges it in your direction, and you cautiously pick it up. What you see on the screen nearly makes you drop the phone in surprise.

It’s a group of guys - you immediately recognize this Kita person with his black and white hair, as well as Suna and Aran. You also see Osamu, giving the camera a lazy smile.

And his exact replica, standing next to him with a wider, cockier smile.

His twin.

Besides the initial shock of seeing a picture of Osamu’s twin, you see Osamu looking happy. He’s got his small smirk you’ve only seen a few times, and even then it pales in comparison to the smile he’s wearing in the photo. It’s such a stark difference to the cold, apathetic Osamu you know now that your heart can’t help but twist.

You hand the phone back to Kita silently. He takes it and puts it away.

“How long have you been friends with Osamu?” He asks.

You swallow. “A few weeks.”

Kita nods. “And do you know about Atsumu?”

“Is that his twin?” Kita nods at your question. “Then yes, that’s how we became friends, kind of.”

Kita gives you a confused look (his expression barely changes but you can just detect it.) You clear your throat. “I lost my best friend a few months ago. We realized we both had something in common and we’ve been able to talk about it with each other.”

Surprise flickers across his face before a serious, somber look takes its place. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” you reply automatically. You appreciate his gesture, and you’ve been handling these kinds of interactions with general strangers for months. If, for some godforsaken reason, the passing of Hajime comes up in conversation everyone immediately offers their condolences, you thank them, and then the conversation continues. You’ve long been able to push aside the wave of grief that comes with the briefest of mentions of his passing. You understand that sometimes the stranger you were talking with doesn’t really mean the words they’re saying.

But with this Kita Shinsuke, you feel the sincerity behind it. It only comes from someone who can understand what you’re going through because they’ve gone through it themselves.

“Can I ask how much you know about Osamu and Atsumu?” Kita asks.

You struggle to find an adequate answer, embarrassed by your lack of knowledge about Osamu’s past. He always seemed uncomfortable talking about Atsumu, and you never wanted to push him. Gosh, can you really say you have deep feelings for him when you don’t even know how to answer this simple question?

“I know he came to Sendai for school.” You answer carefully, putting your insecurities away for now. “I think he wanted to get out of Hyogo.”

Kita’s response is a hum. It’s thoughtful, and you can see gears turning behind his head. You wait for him to reply, unsure of what else to say.

“Osamu definitely wanted to get out of Hyogo, and he did come here to attend Sendai University.” Kita confirms. “But what you may not know is that he vanished from Hyogo, without a trace save for the letter he left for his parents to never call him again.”

Kita’s brief explanation feels anything but that. It shocks you to your core, freezing your lungs. Any reply you would have had to it was wiped clean, and you really can’t do anything but sit and stare.

Kita nods. His features soften, and you now see a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I understand his actions. I cannot imagine living in a place with constant painful reminders of his loss.

“But he didn’t give any hint of wanting to leave. He never told anyone his plan. One day we woke up and he was just gone. His parents are heartbroken. They had already lost one son, and now another that leaves no open channel of communication, no desire for any of us to reach him. To them, it feels like they’ve lost both sons.

Your heart clenches painfully. You know Kita isn’t accusing Osamu of anything - you can’t hear any blame in his voice. But you can’t help but feel the need to defend your friend for his actions that are, frankly, self-serving.

Kita goes on. “Aran, Suna and myself have an old schoolmate, one of Osamu’s old friends as well. He recently reached out to tell us that his cousin thought he recognized Osamu here at this campus when he came to play Sendai University’s mens’ basketball team. It was pure dumb luck, and honestly not even a hint of a confirmed lead, but we got a chance to find Osamu. We arrived two days ago and have spent all of our time searching every corner of the campus looking for him.”

You still can’t get over the new information you’ve learned about Osamu. Leaving his small town and the only people he knows with no plans on returning. You can’t help but remember little bits of information gleaned from your conversations with Osamu.

He moved to a new city and got a new phone and new phone number. He doesn’t have any friends or family here in Sendai. How unwilling he was to find a therapist and seek help for unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Now with the added information of knowing Osamu left home without a trace, you’re left with a revelation that sends you reeling.

He’s running away.

Osamu is trying to run away from the trauma of losing his brother. He’s doing his very best to shake off any trace of his past and reinvent himself in a new city. Zero contact with friends or family and no support to help him work through a disturbing life event that shouldn’t happen to anyone. And he’s shoving it all down.

Why? Why in the world would anyone want to do that to themselves? And is this what he’s been doing to you now? Running away from you?

A ringing disrupts your disturbing thoughts and you watch Kita bring his phone up to his ear. “Hello?” Whoever is on the other line must tell him some disappointing news because Kita’s face falls again. “Ok, I’ll meet you at the hotel.” He hands up the phone and sighs.

“Aran and Suna lost Osamu. Not surprisingly, since Osamu was always quick, and he knows the area better than we do.” He stands. “I will leave you to your studying. May I borrow a slip of paper and a pen?”

You wordlessly hand over a scrap piece of paper and pen, letting Kita bend down to write on the table. He hands the items back to you and straightens up. You look at the paper and see his full name and phone number written down.

“You have no obligation to, but if Osamu reaches out to you will you please let me know?”

You think of the messages you’ve sent him and the calls you’ve made - all unanswered. But you can’t bring yourself to tell that to Kita now. “I’ll try my best.”

“I greatly appreciate it.” Kita bows and makes to leave. But he hesitates and looks back at you. “We’re not here to drag him back to Hyogo against his will. If he wants to stay here in Sendai he can, he’s an adult. I just want him to know that he has people that care about him, people that miss him.”

You watch Kita pause, standing still. He swallows hard and you see his hands ball into fists. Watching Kita compose himself somehow hurts you the most in this entire interaction you’ve had with him.

When he speaks, his voice is strained. “I don’t think he knows that. I think he believes that he’s truly alone.”

Kita nods and takes his leave, leaving you sitting alone at your table in the café.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: Enter the Hyogo friends! But Osamu doesn't seem too happy to see them....are we gonna find out why? Also a sad Kita is literally the worst thing in the world and it makes me not okay! :')

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef @badkarma-a

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squishneedsahero · 3 years

Text

Not So Typical. Weird.

All or Nothing

Part 1 of 1

Word Count: 2930

Uhhh idk y'all I have cravings and just need to get them out. As always no smut cause we sex repulsed up in this house babes. Anyways this is a Loki x Bucky x Reader imagine. And also the reader is a werewolf.

Like I said it's a lot and idk but I needed it to be written

Weird. Weird was the only way you could describe your life. First off was the fact that you were a werewolf. Yes like a full on werewolf, a night with a full moon? You completely lost ability to control yourself, you had to chain yourself up to protect everyone in the vicinity. The rest of the time you were mostly fine, at night you could take your werewolf form by choice and control yourself, it was only nights with a full moon that left you deranged. The rest of the time you were just you, a person, with an unusually acute sense of smell and some other wolf like traits.

The nights you chained yourself were the worst. You'd fall asleep a good while before it got dark, always bored by the fact that you were stuck and didn't want anything you could tear to shreds near you. Then hours later you'd wake up, on the floor feeling worse than hungover, and have to slowly unravel the chains from around yourself, pick up anything you had broken, patch the inevitable holes in your wall and place the rug Mack over the torn up flooring.

At least, it had been this way for years, more recently you'd found a good use for all of this werewolf stuff. One night you'd gotten out of your chains and had been causing horror in the forest surrounding the small upstate town you lived in. You had caused enough problems that the Avengers were called in to keep you from murdering anyone.

Finally when you changed back to yourself and woke up they talked it out with you. It wasn't any different to them than Hulk getting out of control, but it wasn't safe for you to keep living in your ruined apartment where no one could keep an eye on you on those nights. That was how you'd found yourself forced to move into the Avengers compound.

It wasn't all bad, you had a secure room you could tear up on nights of the full moon, and plenty of attractive heroes to spend time with. For a while you lived there as more of a guest than prisoner until at some point some idiots decided to attack the compound. That's when you finally revealed you could make controlled changes other nights. You had been an amazing addition to their team and that was how you'd become an avenger a couple years prior.

Your life had only gotten better from there, it was like you had a family. You hadn't had one of those before, moving from foster home to foster home until you were 16, when you had somehow become a werewolf. You had no idea if you'd been but or if it was just in your genes and finally activated but it was what it was. You'd run for it at that point, able to survive on your own until you were 18, thanks to the fact that being part wolf allowed you to just live in the forest and not have to worry so much about what you ate.

Your life was going smoothly up until about a year ago. That was when, a few weeks apart some new members joined the team.

First there was Loki, he hadn't paid you any attention until that first night you transformed when he was around. Something about the way you couldn't control your actions in that form and the fact that you could change, it fascinated him. He had slowly begun to spend more time with you, asking questions about your abilities and so on. It was through all of this that you had grown close to him, probably the only person he was close too and would let get close to him.

The second one to come was Bucky, Steve's childhood friend. He had been rescued from Hydra and rehabilitated, you'd just been being friendly, making sure he was comfortable in the compound since you'd been in that spot a few years prior. The both of you had become fast friends, having a similar sense of humor and enjoying laughing at Steve.

The three of you would hang out together, watch movies as you caught the both of them up on earth culture that they'd have no idea about. It was behind your back during these times of all of you hanging out that Loki and Bucky would be glaring at each other, making rude comments to each other when you left the room and competing for your attention.

The two were good at hiding it from you, but not the others, especially not Thor and Steve. Thor and Loki were brothers, and Bucky and Steve might as well have been brothers. They could easily see how they would restrain themselves from lashing out at each other in your presence, forcing themselves to simple glares and stealing your attention from the other.

This competition made it awkward for anyone who was in the room with the two of them when you weren't there as well. Which had lead to the three of you spending more time alone as no one wanted to get in between the two when you weren't there.

It went on for months, and you were oblivious, until, one night with a full moon. You'd warned them that you wouldn't be able to join them that evening as you needed to lock yourself up. It was an especially rough night for you, and the two idiots hadn't been able to keep themselves away and listen to your cries from outside the cell.

They'd both burst in, wanting to comfort you, and you unable to control your actions attacked them. You'd always been starving those nights, ravenous for any game you could hunt down. Human or not it made no difference to you, it was as you lunged that they realized their mistake. They had to work together to restrain you, leading to the three of you laying on the floor of the cell together as they held you.

You had struggled all night, and as always when you changed back you instantly passed out from exhaustion. The two were also tired out from having to hold you down all night to prevent themselves from dying. It was then and there that they had silently agreed that they would work together to protect you at all costs. They didn't get up, and neither did you, that day the padded floor was your bed.

When you woke up the two of them were wrapped around you, fast asleep. You were trapped in their embrace, since you were only human when you weren't a wolf and the two of them had super strength. They had slept for a while longer, keeping you trapped there for long enough to come to the realization that they'd been competing for your attention for months.

When they did wake up and realized that they were cuddling not only you but also each other they jumped away from the embrace. Leaving you to suddenly flop to the floor since you'd been being supported by the two men. You groaned and sat up to stretch, looking at the both of them as they, embarrassedly, avoided eye contact.

"I hope the both of you know you're idiots. I'm going to have to make sure the others keep you out of here from now on, I don't want to hurt you."

Bucky mutters something about it being worth it to keep you comfortable.

"I'm Asgardian, even in your wolf form you cannot harm me," Loki protests.

Bucky laughs, "yeah, keep telling yourself that. I'm pretty sure she would have torn you to shreds had I not also been here."

You sigh and shake your head as you get up off the floor, letting yourself out to go find something to eat and leaving them where they were on the floor.

They must have figured something out that night, come so some sort of conclusion about their shared feelings for you and wanting to keep you out of harms way. The two approached you while you were eating practically everything you could find in the kitchen. They both then and there admitted their feelings, and asked you to choose, they didn't want to be fighting over you anymore.

You'd silently looked at the both of them as you finished your food, not giving a response after you'd gotten up to get your second cup of coffee. "I'm not choosing," you state simply, and when they both open their mouths you continue before they can interject. "You two are my best friends, and I've realized I have been oblivious to both of your advances. But you cannot make me choose between the two of you, I won't loose a friendship over this... plus I don't think I could choose if my life depended on it."

They were both completely confused at this point, not having a single clue where you were going with this.

"Look," you say firmly, "both of you like me. I like both of you. I'm not loosing my best friendships over something as dumb as choosing one man over another." You pause, deciding to just say what you were thinking, "if the two of you can overcome your differences the three of us could be together. All or nothing. If you cannot do this then I suggest the both of you get over it and know we will be nothing more than friends. I'm going to go shower and get changed and the two of you can come find me when you've talked it out."

With that you walked out of the kitchen and to your bedroom, leaving them to stare at your back and then each other in shock. You go and take a nice long shower that is much needed, sure, you were worried about how they'd react. If they'd both start ignoring you and you'd loose those friendships after all that, or if maybe the three of you could be something more together. Sure you had thought about it before that point but you'd been oblivious to their advances and you hadn't wanted to start a love triangle. But then, as you were lying on the floor in both of their arms you'd come to the realization, if they were willing to give it a try why couldn't you all be together.

It would keep you from having to choose, hopefully keep from jealousy and maybe the two could see they didn't need to fight over your attention. But who knows, maybe the idea disgusted them, and would just scare them away. You shake the thoughts from your mind and relax the rest of the time you're in the shower.

You exited your bathroom fully dressed, with a towel in your face as you dried your hair. It wasn't until you dropped your towel in the laundry basket and turned around that you saw both Bucky and Loki standing awkwardly in your room waiting for you.

"So?" Is all you can bring yourself to ask, the courage you had last time you'd faced them was all but gone.

They share a glance with each other then look back at you, "we're willing to give it a go, for you," Bucky says.

"Yes, we are," Loki confirms. "It was rude of us to try and make you choose, we have no right to demand that of you, and we would like to apologize."

"We aren't exactly sure how it'll work out... seeing as we haven't done anything but see each other as competition but we'll give it a shot to make you happy," Bucky concludes for the two men.

You can't stop the huge grin that breaks out across your face as they speak, running over and hugging them both tightly as soon as they finish. "Thank you- thank you for understanding-" you look at the two, who only have their arms around you, but that's fine.

You look at them, wanting to kiss the both of them, but how to go about that without jealousy with who you kiss first you had no idea so you just saved that problem for later. "I'm still exhausted from last night... I'm going to take a nap, would you like to join me?"

They both agree to it, Bucky had changed since you'd shredded his clothes the night before. Loki had used magic at some point to either protect or change his clothes so he was already good to go. The three of you climb into your bed and it's comfortable, one of them on either side of you, and you expect to fall asleep quickly.

Things don't always life up to your expectations though. The two men were obviously still tired as well and they fell asleep before you. Even in their sleep they were fighting over you as though you were a blanket they had to share.

It was kind of cute and made your heart flutter, but you'd never be able to sleep like this. You aren't quite sure how you manage it but you get them to come closer together, throwing a leg over Bucky and using his chest as a pillow while Loki acted as your big spoon. After you get into this position the two seem content, and finally stop tugging you back and forth, and you fall asleep in their arms.

This cuddly tug of war had gone on for months. But slowly the two realized that the other wasn't so bad. There was less bickering and they even seemed to enjoy the other's company at some moments. Everyone noticed and wondered how the hell you'd tamed the two.

You kept the relationship quiet, not mentioning it to anyone since it was still kind of just a trial period. You had no idea how long they'd be able to stand this situation so you were going to make the most of it. At least that was the plan until one day things just kind of flipped. Suddenly you'd enter a room and they wouldn't be sitting apart as they waited for you, but they'd be sitting next to each other, sometimes even hugging. It all became real when you'd walked in for one of your planned cuddle sessions after a night of a full moon, to find the two men not only waiting on your bed for you but they had started the kissing without you! Needless to say after you arrived all of you had some fun that day despite your exhaustion.

Yet, things were quiet about the three of you being together. Sure they had ideas of what might be happening but no one had any proof. At least they didn't until one night the three of you were watching a movie together and had fallen asleep towards the end. The next morning they'd found you three on the couch, with Loki and you sandwiching Bucky between you. Loki's tall slender form was the big spoon, with one arm clearly wrapped around Bucky's waist. Then there was you, somehow wrapped around the two men, a leg thrown over theirs arms around their shoulders and hands in their hair. Bucky had his arms tightly around you, holding you to his chest and Loki's other hand had found it's way to act as your pillow.

After this, there were no doubts, money might have been exchanged to settle bets. But also the three of you never heard the end of it.

"You three should get a room."

"Aww it's cute Bucky and Loki decided to let you be their teddy bear."

"So which one do you love more?"

That last question was the first and last time anyone tried to ask that. The death glares from you and Bucky, plus the fact you had both whispered something to Loki and he'd glared for a moment longer before a mischievous smile flashed across his face. Yeah, there was still plenty of teasing but none of them made comments like that anymore. Who knows what you and Bucky would have let Loki do if they had.

The three of you are still practically inseparable, you had always been close to each other before this started but now Bucky and Loki were close as well. Things were perfect, except for the fact that they still tried to sit with you through the full moon nights. You'd had to make absolutely sure with Tony that neither of them could get into that room. Magic, technology and everything was put into preventing it. You tried to convince them that it wouldn't be so bad to just cuddle each other on the nights you could be there. They didn't like it, and would whine when you had to leave them but the promise of plenty of cuddles after while you recovered your energy as enough to keep them from finding a way to break into the cell.

So yeah, things were weird, but a good weird. You, your two boyfriends who kissed you and each other. It wasn't normal or typical but the three of you were happy. Misfits who had hurt people in their lives and come to regret it, who'd found each other and helped each other be better. All of you had bad nights with nightmares but with two people who loved you to hold you as each of you went through it, things became bearable. Things were far from perfect but they were your not normal, not typical weird that to you was everything.

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clocks-are-round · 3 years

Text

Meeting the Parents PSA

Donut: I’m Franklin Donut from popular webseries Red vs Blue!

Locus: And I don’t want to be here.

Donut: Today we’re talking about introducing your partner to your family!

Locus: Your moms are here?

Donut: No, silly! This is a practice run! So, Sarge—

Sarge: *grumbly sarge noises*

Donut: You remember Locus?

Sarge: Of course!

Donut: He’s my partner now!

Sarge: By partner do you mean like… work partners? Partners in crime? Lab partners? …Boyfriend..?

Locus: Boyfriend sounds juvenile. We’ve traveled to dozens of planets and faced danger… and disco together. I would like your blessing to continue to stay by each other’s side.

Donut: *quietly* Oh my gosh Sam, that was so beautiful!

Sarge: What? Travel? Disco? When did that happen?

Donut: I— I was gone for months.

Sarge: Hmm…

Donut: After all the gods and time travel stuff? I said goodbye to you and everyone else at the hospital.

*cut to Lopez in a different location*

Lopez: [editor’s note: Sarge was crying about how much he missed Donut for weeks. Then he started pretending Donut was still around. It looks like he’s still in denial. What a sad, strange little man]

*back to previous scene*

Sarge: No, I’m pretty sure you were with us. You were at the wedding.

Donut: Yeah, we came back for the wedding… after traveling for months.

Sarge: Locus just got here today though.

Donut: Wh— *turns to Locus* Have you been invisible this whole time?

Locus: Not the whole time. *mumbles* Most of the time.

Sarge: You mean to say he’s been living with us here since the wedding?

Donut: Yes indeedy.

Sarge: Well that explains why Grif kept saying the base was haunted.

Donut: Ohhhh. Yeah, that makes sense now.

Locus: That isn’t what we’re here to talk about. *to Sarge* Do I have your blessing?

Sarge: Uhhh… Granted, soldier.

*cut to Donut close to the camera with Locus and Sarge facing each other in the background*

Donut: *to the camera* With any luck, your family will like them; hopefully not more than they like you, but also not so much that they want your partner for themselves!

Sarge: Well, Locus, if things don’t work out between you two, don’t feel like you need to stay away. Or if you need a new partner, I think I’ve got a couple more adventures left in me.

Donut: If something uncomfortable like that does happen, it’s important to communicate boundaries to those involved. Preferably by taking them aside later rather than calling them out publicly.

Sarge: I am okay with being a backup plan!

Locus: *backs away slowly then goes invisible*

*cut to next scene, Donut and Locus are with Grif and Simmons*

Donut: I’m an only child, but some people also have siblings to introduce. Like, Grif who has a sister! Grif! Simmons! How did meeting the in-laws go for you?

Grif: The fuck are you talking about? He already knew Sister. You know that.

Donut: Well yeah, but what about the parents?

*couple beats of silence*

Simmons: shiiiittttt I knew we forgot something!

Grif: Fuck, I haven’t even seen Mom since before— Fuck! She’s living in a trailer park now! I gotta go see her.

Simmons: Surprise visit?

Grif: Yeah. Man, I hope she’s doing alright.

Donut: What about your parents, Simmons?

Simmons: Oh, I’m dead to them, so no worries there.

Locus: That’s… unfortunate.

*sound of a ship landing and a person’s footsteps clunking down the ramp*

Caboose: *runs on screen* Guys, I’m back from visiting home and guess what I brought??

*sound of many footsteps*

Woman: *offscreen* Michael, mi ángel, are these your friends? It’s so nice to meet you all, I’ve heard so much about you all.

Caboose: Only nine of my sisters could come, but that is ok because otherwise we would not have enough couches.

*all sisters and Caboose’s mom will be offscreen*

Sister 1: Couches? We’re sleeping comfy tonight!

Simmons: We don’t have nine couches.

Grif: I wish we did.

Sister 2: That’s ok. Most places don’t have enough furniture so we’re used to sleeping on the floor when we travel. *quickly* Nose goes!

*chorus of several “not it”s including from Caboose*

Grif: Caboose, you live here. You have a bed.

Caboose: Still not it.

Sister 3: Fuck! Why do I always get last?

Sister 4: Probably because you’re slower than Michael.

Sister 3: Hey! *beat* That’s not true!

Sister 5: Prove it and catch me, weebasaurus!

Sister 3: Mom, Ronnie’s being a fucking bitch!

Sister 5: You kiss your kids with that mouth?

Caboose’s mom: ¡Cállate! No tattling. Act your age, all of you, or your character will be killed off first in our next campaign.

Sister 3: Puta.

Sister 5: Loser.

Caboose: Our family has fun.

Sister 6: Yeah, well we’ll go ahead and make ourselves at home. C’mon mama, I’ve got your chair.

Caboose’s mom: I can wheel myself, Maria.

Sister 7: Oh she just figured you were tired—

6&7: —from carrying this whole fucking family!

Sister 8: HEYOH

Sister 1: It’s funny ‘cause she gave birth to all of us.

Sister 3: Yeah, I got that. I’m not stupid, Stupid.

Sister 1: …I don’t like you.

Sister 9: Is it too late to leave?

Simmons: So this is what having siblings is like.

Grif: I mean this is just like me and Kai. Except times twenty.

Caboose’s mom: Last one to the blue base is a… ehh… Christina, help me out.

Sister 8: Toilet plunger!

Caboose’s mom: 3 2 1 go!

Sister 2: No fair, Mom, you got a head start!

Sister 9: So much for act your age.

*stampede noises*

Grif: Wash and Tucker are in for a surprise.

Caboose: I wish they could’ve met Church. I think he would’ve liked my family. But not as much as he liked me.

Simmons: Oh yeah. I’m sure Church would’ve LOVED a stampede of Cabooses.

Caboose: Yeah, I think so too.

Donut: Welllll Locus and I are heading to Earth tonight so that’s some extra sleeping space for your family!

Locus: Don’t you think tonight is a little too soon?

Donut: Aw, don’t worry! They’ll love you! They might put you to work, though. I hope you don’t mind helping with chores?

Locus: As long as I don’t have to deal with geese.

Donut: Alright! You are going to have to deal with a cock though so I hope you’re prepared for that!

Simmons: *mutters* Jesus. Get a room.

Grif: Hm. What do you think Simmons? You ready to meet my mom?

Simmons: Ready as I’ll ever be. I hope she likes me.

Grif: She’s not that hard to impress. Just talk about some nerd stuff and she’ll think I married a genius.

Simmons: Well I don’t want to misrepresent myself either—

Grif: Don’t overthink it, man. Just be you. But yeah, that’s four more sleeping places. Five if Kai wants to tag along.

Caboose: Oh, I hope she stays. She is the best at sleepovers.

Donut: Well, I think this morning has been very educational. What do you think Locus?

*shouting from a distance*

Wash: Who the hell are these people??

Tucker: Did I die? Am I in heaven?

Locus: I think I’m glad you’re an only child.

*end*

——

not sure if this will rub people the wrong way or not so here’s a note: the decision to make Caboose’s fam latino was not because he canonically has a lot of siblings. I know that’s a major stereotype (which is weird because all the huge families I’ve seen on tv were white— though that’s probably due to a different issue regarding media) and I considered not going thru with it because of it.

The reasons for headcanoning this were:

1) Caboose understands Spanish; although he’s never seen to speak it, he perfectly responded to Lopez in English in season 16.

2)In the universe of my fics, Caboose is mixed. His dad was white and his mom is black. There’s weirdly very little depiction of black latinos in media and since I didn’t incorporate that into a character in my Queer Canyon series, when I saw the opportunity to tie it to Caboose’s family I went for it.

Also, the mostly christian-based names are because Caboose’s name is Michael. It’s always fun to have a theme with names so I mostly went for bible names. I promise you’ll get to know his family more in future fics of mine.

——

deleted scene:

(in response to Sarge not believing Locus had been there the whole time)

Donut: We made a PSA about competition and why it’s more important to have fun with each other than to come out on top. And Carolina kept countering our arguments and in the end there was an all out war and I was not responsible for those fires.

Lopez: [I did not want to relive the tortuous experience of hearing so many innuendos. So I deleted the file. And then burned the video camera.]

——

Want to toss a couple bucks my way? Here’s my ko-fi

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb fic #//*the tinkling of champagne glasses*#//x gon give a whole lot of community service #//*cocks shotgun*#//mr steal yo snacks #//*windows error sound*#//hello hello hello hello hello #//'CAR?!'#//dr fuck #caboose fam #my fics #rvb fake psa

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Photo

In the Arms of the Anus

Fandom: Spider-Man, Thor Pairing: Roger Harrington/Grandmaster Rating: T Word Count: 8883

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @spiderman-homecomeme!!!

Summary: While people all over the world are finding their soulmates, Roger Harrington can barely find time to grab a sandwich. Clumsy, anxious, and stagnating in a mediocre marriage, it's a miracle that he still believes in love.

Today's the day the universe rewards that belief.

Three things about Roger Harrington: he’d just tripped on the sidewalk, he worried daily that he was developing a bald spot, and, at the age of 36, he felt he still believed in love as strongly as did the little girl in his building who’d made all the residents Valentine’s Day cards the year before.

The cards—which Roger had found endearing while his wife had been baffled to the point of annoyance—had been wedged into everyone’s mailbox sometime on the afternoon of last May 19th, and maybe that was why he thought of them today, exactly a year later.

It was helpful, he found, to consider love in markers of time passing, or just numbers. The anniversary of those Valentine’s cards would always be 271 days early, leap year or not. Roger had been married twice, longer the second time. He had zero children, and that was alright with him because he wasn’t totally sure that he did want kids and, anyway, he was too profoundly stressed about the welfare of the teenagers he taught at Midtown to comfortably imagine himself as a fulltime parent.

His wife was cool. Significantly cooler than he was. She drove out of the city to hike every other weekend (he had never joined her and hoped to never be called upon for woodsy companionship), had once performed an emergency tracheotomy on a friend at a dinner party, and had a tattoo on her hip that predated their relationship, which made it consequently, eternally, enigmatic, no matter how many times she told the objectively trite story of its acquisition. Also, she was a casual shoplifter, which made him very, very nervous in a way that he found difficult to differentiate from how he felt when he was turned on.

He was the kind of person who consistently forgot to take his glasses off before stepping into the shower. She was the kind of person who would run into and recognize a famous race car driver at Whole Foods (that had happened) or fake her own death (that had not happened—knock on wood!). Essentially, what and who his second wife was was the natural successor to his first wife (the reckless young bride to his insomniac young groom), who had in turn been the natural successor to the only other romantic encounter of his life worth mentioning: a kiss on the cheek at a birthday party on the day the Berlin Wall fell. Roger had been seven.

So his romantic history was speckled and, in two out of three cases, spoke a little too loudly of a need for legally-recognized codependence. So he didn’t feel like a man anyone would ever get a tattoo in honour of. So his wife had been a little unkind in the long pause before her negative when he’d asked her if she thought he was getting a bald spot. Roger still felt that love was going to happen for him. Hopefully sustained in his current marriage, but if not, there was always what Julius Dell had taken to (highly unscientifically) calling the Love Wave.

If Roger decided to be really delusional, he could pretend that the Love Wave was to blame for his stumble over uneven concrete on his way to grab lunch. That he was finally feeling its cosmic tug. Not that he would be the last to sense it—the inexplicable force that had lately begun guiding people the world over to their new partners—but every day that he didn’t, he feared his wife would feel it first and go careening out of their life together in a Thelma and Louise-style launch that somehow left her intact and him feeling like he’d plummeted to his death at the bottom of a canyon. Sometimes, when he thought about it, he imagined feeling that impulse to go to this destined soulmate and pictured it leading him home. Not in some metaphorical way, but literally home, to the apartment he shared with his wife, to find her arriving at the same time, the two of them matched up, the universe endorsing their marriage.

The reality was that he was a man with clumsy feet (and knees and elbows) who’d forgotten to pack himself a lunch and had just enough self-awareness (though probably not dignity) not to believe that eating in the cafeteria with his students was something he would be able to socially recover from.

He thought about a poorly-cut-out pink heart glued to a fold of red craft paper. He went to buy a sandwich.

At the deli, Roger waited in line and didn’t so much allow his mind to wander—like a dog off-leash in a dog park—as feel his mind jerk insistently away—like a dog on-leash, trying to snap a dropped slice of pizza off the sidewalk. He was violently not present as his thoughts migrated from Valentine’s Day cards to lesson plans to the anxiety he always felt over the fact of never seeming to have enough power to go with the tremendous sense of responsibility he felt for all situations in which he was even remotely involved. He would have, should have, continued to shuffle vacantly forward in line, except that the man ahead of him grumbled something that drew his focus.

What he grumbled was: “Even the Sorcerer Supreme should be able to spare a minute to decide what kind of sandwich he wants.”

Now, Roger Harrington was a man of science, but he was also a man who had previously enjoyed a close friendship with the Hulk (and if anyone challenged him on specific parameters within that assertion, Roger knew that he would cry). Aliens swarmed the sky like clouds of bees. There were compilation videos of Spider-Man nearly getting hit by city buses that could’ve been designed expressly to see how hard Roger could flinch. For a clumsy man with the unathletic, knock-kneed gait of Pippi Longstocking, Roger did his best to roll with the supernatural punches. Hey, this was how science worked too: just because there wasn’t a precedent yet didn’t mean there never would be. Just because he couldn’t explain something didn’t mean no one could. Sorcerers? Alright. There could be sorcerers.

“Sorcerers?” Roger blurted to the man, overeager to expel the word.

All other words had fled to the back of his mind, twitching in an agitated cluster, leaving just the one to be snatched frantically from the surface. Like fishing. (Roger had never been fishing. One of his greatest fears was having a live fish somehow jump into his shoe and stepping on it by accident.)

“Uhhh,” the man droned. He looked uneasy. If Roger knew how to make his eyes a little less wide in situations like these, he would’ve done it.

“No, yeah, sorcerers, sure,” Roger swiftly backpedaled. “I’m a teacher.”

As if being a teacher equaled knowledge of sorcerers. As if that were a normal unit of the high school curriculum. Roger’s understanding of sorcerers began and ended with Mickey Mouse in a blue wizard’s hat. He wondered if that was sort of the standard look.

The man did not appear reassured. Roger thrust his hand forward.

“Roger Harrington, Midtown Tech.”

Face still wary, his deli companion shook hands.

“Wong.”

“So, this sorcerer of yours didn’t pick a sandwich?” The line shuffled forward and, now in reach of the long glass case of food, Roger attempted to lean his elbow casually against it, misjudged the distance, and jerked back upright again before he could fall over.

“No… You heard that part too?”

“If I could hear the part about the sorcerer, why wouldn’t I be able to hear the rest?”

“I think most people would’ve been so fixated on the sorcerer thing that they wouldn’t really absorb the part about the sandwich.”

“Just got sandwiches on the brain, I guess,” Roger said.

God, if Wong knew a sorcerer, odds were that he was a sorcerer too. (Roger based this on being a teacher with almost exclusively teacher friends and acquaintances.) He was making it sound like he cared more about sandwiches, he knew he was. He stared silently at Wong for a few painful seconds and wondered if the man could tell that he had worked for a sandwich shop as a teenager—the role of wearing a full-body sandwich costume and standing on the sidewalk, trying to attract people into the shop.

But Wong surprised him by nodding.

“You could get one of everything,” Roger heard himself suggest.

He was not typically one to make suggestions, but rather one to panic when other people did and he was in the position of having to choose between them. He could never decide on a restaurant for he and his wife’s now few-and-far-between date nights, or provide straightforward feedback when she asked for his opinion on her clothing choices… which movie they should see… what they should buy for her friend’s sister’s housewarming gift...

Oh god, she was probably going to fake her own death and his biggest anxiety was knowing that someone would ask him to choose the casket!

“I have like…” Wong jingled his pockets and extracted a fistful of coins that, when he opened his hand, Roger saw belonged to several different currencies. “…six bucks.”

Like a mirror with a delay, Roger patted his own pockets to locate his wallet. He flipped it open to reveal something promising and terrifying: he’d forgotten to return the school credit card after the last field trip he’d chaperoned. He shouldn’t, but… sorcerer.

“I think this’ll cover it,” Roger said. “It’s for emergency expenses.”

“Like lunch?” Wong asked doubtfully.

“I could be very hungry.”

“They sell seventeen different types of sandwiches here.”

“I could be very, very hungry.”

Wong shrugged in evident acquiescence and Roger marvelled that it was so simple for him to accept this act of generosity. Roger couldn’t recall the last time someone had been as generous towards him. Wait, yes he could. The Valentine’s Day card. Well, handing over a credit card that wasn’t technically his didn’t exactly equate to presenting his ticket at the Love Wave gates (not that there were such things—not that he’d know), but he was hoping to trade this generosity up for a different magical experience in the near future.

When they reached the front of the line for service, Roger ordered a total of eighteen sandwiches. (And received an undisguised groan of complaint from the people still in line behind himself and Wong.) While they waited, Roger buzzed like the posterchild for over-caffeination, doing his best not to let his excitement translate into erratic movements.

Of course, once the sandwiches were presented and paid for, it only made sense for Roger to help Wong carry them all. His own ham-and-Swiss was stuffed into one of the three bags and they were all bulging, threatening to spill. If one of them ripped on Wong’s journey back to wherever he had to take them, who would be there to gather the sandwiches into their arms so that Wong wouldn’t have to leave them on the ground? Roger was clearly the best (only) person for the job.

And if they talked on the way? That would be natural. If Wong stared at him with abrupt, unyielding suspicion the instant Roger attempted to negotiate a visit with this ‘Sorcerer Supreme’ in exchange for buying his lunch? Yeah. Yeah that suspicion would be fair.

“Not for my sake!” Roger defended as Wong blinked back at him. “For the kids!”

“The Sorcerer Supreme isn’t a birthday party magician.”

“No, I would never imply that! These are bright kids. They’d be there to learn, respectfully. They’ve had their own traumatic encounter with Spider-Man already so there wouldn’t be any clambering to meet another person with superhuman powers!”

“What did Spider-Man do to traumatize them?”

Wong looked interested now, in an entertained sort of way. Meanwhile, Roger was having a flashback of his life flashing before his eyes inside the Washington Monument.

“Actually, he saved us,” Roger explained. “That’s not the point. It would be purely educational. You and the Sorcerer Supreme would call the shots. As long as it wasn’t anything dangerous.”

“Dangerous? We would never put children at risk!”

Roger was about to clarify that he hadn’t meant to imply that they would when he realized Wong seemed to be taking this as a reason to prove himself, or to make the other sorcerer prove what he’d just said.

“I would hope not,” Roger said carefully, “because not all of the children I’ve taken on field trips have come back alive and that haunts me.”

“Well, what haunts me is everything I’ve seen and learned from in order to become someone who could now guarantee a safe field trip environment.”

“Well, that would be great.”

“Well, good,” Wong concluded.

Roger looked down at the bag he was holding as he dug out his sandwich. His wrist twisted and he caught the time on his watch. Oh wow, oh no, his lunch break was almost over.

“Ok, deal,” he said quickly. “We’ll come by next Tuesday!”

“I’ll be out here to let you in!” Wong agreed with a parting wave.

Roger took off running in the direction of Midtown and when that got too awful, he wheezed like an asthmatic and waited at the closest bus stop.

—

Roger had expected Principal Morita to say there was no room in their budget for this trip. That they were nearing the end of the school year, that parents and guardians would be reluctant to sign another form for an excursion that Roger could only give a vague, stammering explanation of. At the very least, he’d anticipated the journey via school bus in lurching, stop-and-start traffic to take so long that the kids would revolt; Flash Thompson would lead the complaints that they could’ve walked to their destination faster than the ride took and Roger would feel the primal horror of a confrontation with a self-possessed teenager who wielded the kind of peer influence Roger could only have dreamed of when he’d been Flash’s age.

But no.

Highly improbably (Roger didn’t like to consider it miraculous), things went smoothly. The trip cleared the budget assessment on zero notice because, besides renting the single bus to transport the students, their outing didn’t actually have any costs. Permission slips came back signed. Traffic was light. And dear, dear Flash—who usually gave Roger so much anxiety—slapped the hand Roger raised to shield his eyes from the sun as his students disembarked from the bus, rewarding him with a surprise high-five for getting them out of the classroom on a Tuesday afternoon. It almost knocked Roger’s glasses off.

They were ushered inside by Wong, who was now laying the mystical solemnity on pretty thick. He certainly wasn’t talking about sandwiches or complaining about the Supreme Sorcerer under his breath.

Before Roger could feel too good about himself though, he realized he’d had time to run through his headcount of the students three times without interruption. Normally, something would happen partway through his first count and he’d be uneasy for the rest of the day, sure that one of the kids had fallen down a manhole or been stampeded by a dog-walker’s unruly canine swarm. The universe shoved teenagers into the path of bike couriers with one hand and paired up soulmates with the other. That was just how things went! However, inside this house (or, no, Sanctum, Wong had called it), the air was still and quiet.

“Do you think he’s gonna make himself appear out of thin air?” Roger heard Ned ask at a whisper. “Or out of a wardrobe, or a trapdoor, or one of those boxes people get in to get sawed in half?”

“Those are cheap tricks,” Wong said loudly. He stared unsympathetically at Roger’s motley group, hand closed around his opposite wrist to maintain a serious pose. “The man you’ll be meeting shortly has capabilities that far outstrip those of the kind of magician-for-hire you’d find in a phonebook.”

From behind him, Roger heard Peter ask Ned what a phonebook was.

“What kind of capabilities then?” Flash demanded.

Roger sighed and was turning to reprimand his student when Wong said, “Like this!”

The man faked a sneeze of horrific volume and range, doubling over and cupping his hand around his mouth and nose. When he straightened up and presented his open palm, there was a raspberry sitting in it.

Roger closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself and his teaching career played on a fast-forwarded film reel behind his lids. The Sorcerer Supreme was a no-show; all Roger had accomplished was taking the kids to a weird building to witness a man pretend to sneeze out a raspberry. Midtown Tech was going to fire him. His wife would recognize his unemployment as a reason to leave him. Depressingly, Roger was thinking about how that would almost be a relief—an end to his incessant worrying that they were really kind of a mismatch—and he was thinking it while he blankly watched Wong eat the raspberry he’d just feigned dislodging from his nasal cavity.

He was really unprepared for a different man to come sweeping down the stairs, motion with his hand, and have a red sheet come whizzing down after him to settle itself on his shoulders. Roger blinked. He heard the mixed noises of fright and appreciation from his students.

Then Flash piped up with, “That’s just a trick. It’s wires or something.”

Roger backed into the cluster of his charges and, without taking his eyes off the obvious Magical Guy in front of him, reached over and placed his hand across Flash’s mouth.

Unfortunately, his censorship seemed to be too late. The Sorcerer’s narrowed eyes zoned in on Flash.

“Oh yeah? How ’bout this? Is this just a trick?”

Fingers splayed, the man moved his hands in a precise, practiced way and a window opened up in the middle of the room. No, not a window, but Roger was having a tough time wrapping his head around it. What this non-window showed was something that wasn’t the room, that wasn’t a view of the street, that wasn’t anyplace in New York, if he had to guess.

“You can’t just do it like that,” Wong said wearily. Roger felt himself and his students look from one of the men to the other as though watching a tennis match. “There should be a little more finesse.”

“Look,” the Sorcerer told him. “You don’t get to spring this on me and then expect me to ham it up for the kids. This isn’t a David Blaine show.”

“Maybe you should watch one. You might learn something about showmanship.”

“So, it’s fake, right?” Flash checked.

Dammit, Roger had dropped his hand, distracted as he tried to make out what he was seeing through what he was becoming increasingly comfortable with calling a ‘magic portal’ in his thoughts. He scrambled to take hold of Flash’s shoulder—yanking him back would be bad, but dealing with the fallout of him pissing off somebody who could make magic portals would be much worse—but Flash dodged him, swaggering forward to inspect the Sorcerer’s work.

“What is it? Mirrors? Greenscreen? You buy your tech from Stark?”

“Stark?” the Sorcerer spat out derisively.

Overcome with the terrible feeling that he was about to find out what it looked like when a wizard put a curse on a child, Roger sprang forward. As he did, three things happened: the Sorcerer rotated his wrist slightly, the scene on the other side of the portal changed, and Flash turned to the side.

Without a student to grab onto and pull to safety, Roger’s momentum sent him hurtling through the gateway currently connecting Midtown to parts unknown.

Of all the times to trip, he thought.

—

The world was bright and fast and bad. Actually, Roger was almost positive that what he was seeing wasn’t the world at all, but he couldn’t put a name to where he was any more than he could think of better adjectives to describe it. Unless the Sorcerer Supreme owned a magical slip ’n’ slide that operated at speeds designed to train prospective astronauts for space travel, Roger was no longer in his building.

The colour of the tunnel of light surrounding him turned from something like the intestinal track of a unicorn who ate lightning and nebulas to a dangerous, broiling red. Roger kept waiting for his skin to bubble, his face to melt off. Maybe he was the fabled frog in the pot of boiling water and had failed to notice the heat steadily increasing. Because he didn’t feel hot. He couldn’t tell whether or not he felt cold either and before he could work it out, he finally landed.

It was rough.

He curled his arms up around his head, protecting his face. He hit and tumbled, hit and tumbled, banging his shins and elbows, setting off a series of metallic clangs and thwumps like his body was playing drums made of the contents of somebody’s recycling bin. Roger could see—once, shaking, he was able to lower his arms and open his eyes—that his imagination hadn’t been far from the mark: he was lying in a heap of trash.

Trembling like a baby deer, he got to his feet and assessed his surroundings. There were piles everywhere. Piles of stuff. Roger could identify some of the battered objects, but most were utterly alien to him. This was like the time he’d found his wife’s sex toys all over again.

“Hello?” he called out, because he seemed to be alone. “Hel—”

His throat closed off abruptly when he swiveled in place and noticed the sky. His mouth fell open. Was that what he had just come through? That furious-looking, billowing, volcanic, enormous… disturbance? Weather pattern? Entrance to hell, if hell were a mountain of trash?

Oh man. Where was Spider-Man this time? Roger didn’t know which would come first, but if something distinctly reassuring didn’t happen in the next 30 seconds, he was going to either burst into tears or pee his pants. His cool wife was going to be so bummed to have to declare him dead instead of faking her own death. And his students would be traumatized, having just witnessed their teacher disappear before their eyes. He spent a frantic 17 of his 30 seconds wondering if this were Jumanji and he’d started a game without realizing it; being sucked into a board game was another of his greatest fears, ever since he’d watched the chilling horror film Jumanji in his teens.

“Hello?” Roger croaked a final time.

Some other scientist—a Tony Stark type—would thrive in this scenario, Roger knew. They would scavenge the surrounding mounds of metal, collecting and assembling pieces into some sort of technology that would either get them home or enable communication with a rescue team. Would there be a rescue team for Roger Harrington? Would anyone even try to get him back?

The cry/pee conundrum was looking more like cry with each passing second until suddenly, amongst the broken things Roger was aggrieved to consider the lone sentinels of his demise, some kind of spacecraft touched down. Based on his recent luck, whoever was at the helm was likely here to kill him, but he immediately elected to throw himself on their mercy, whether that meant rescue or just a swifter snuffing out of his life than he would otherwise experience on this sad island of garbage as he died from dehydration, starvation, and exposure to that infernal gateway in the sky.

He mouthed the word “help” more than said it as he staggered forward on legs he could hardly feel. A door in the side of the spacecraft slid smoothly open and party music blared out. Roger flinched back as though he had not heard the sounds of civilization in years.

A woman exited the craft. She wore an expression about as kind as the murderous upside-down mushroom cloud in the sky and when their eyes met, she barked, “Back!”

Roger executed an awkward reverse lunge, pleading hands raised. Ok, now that his time had come, he didn’t want a quick death. Put out of his misery? No, he would learn to live with his misery, the way he’d learned to live with his college roommates, or his wife’s collection of handmade bowls! With food and water to sustain him, he was suddenly confident that he could be successfully miserable for years if this intimidating woman would just leave him to his own pathetic devices.

But then, like a visitation from a tan, eye-liner-wearing angel of indeterminate age, a man in gold robes emerged from the vessel. He beamed like he had always been beaming, and always would be.

Just like that, Roger Harrington got it. He got what Hot Chocolate meant when they sang that they believed in miracles. He got the meaning of Kylie Jenner’s year of realizing stuff. He got why a child would send out Valentine’s Day cards in May and why his wife was so dedicated to her hiking group and why he was here.

“Now, what did I say about that before we left?” the angel seemed to be asking his companion, though he’d locked his eyes on Roger. “Did I say to harass our visitor or did I say to be nice?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Roger, which he felt more than saw; it was possible that he was crying after all. Tears of joy.

“Harass,” she answered flatly.

The angel chuckled.

“You know, I do like having you around. Before you, I said to myself, ‘Next time, get an enforcer with a sense of humour.’” He sighed as his laughter dwindled. “But you can, uh, skedaddle back onto the ship now. That’ll be all.”

“What if you want to melt him?” she queried.

That was enough to tear Roger’s gaze away from the man and send it zipping nervously to the threatening almost-smile the woman was now directing his way. He’d preferred the murder face.

“Melt him!” the angel said, in a tone that implied her suggestion had been ridiculous. (Roger relaxed. A little.) “Topaz, don’t you realize who this is? Don’t you know?”

She shrugged.

“Trash.”

“No, he’s not trash! Do you think I would’ve left the Grand Arena to retrieve a new gladiator by hand? All those Scrappers don’t do my bidding just so I can dig through the garbage looking for fresh challengers for my champion! I wouldn’t even assign Scrapper 142 this task, and you know she’s my favourite!”

When the woman only grumbled, the man pressed, “You have an unbelievable poker face. Do you really not know why I flew all the way out here for this guy?”

“I’m his soulmate,” Roger blurted, because that was the one thing he did know.

He had no idea what a Scrapper was, or whether the man in front of him was more or less important than the ‘champion’ he’d mentioned, or how his homicidal sidekick planned to melt Roger, but he understood what was happening here. Forget the Love Wave—what had come for him had yanked him violently across solar systems, maybe galaxies. He’d been sucked under by the Love Riptide.

The angel pointed at him and proudly proclaimed, “Correctamundo!”

Then he strode forward and folded Roger into a hug. Roger thought this must be what it was like to be a piece of antique furniture, tenderly wrapped in gold leaf.

“I’m the Grandmaster,” he said.

“Roger Harrington,” Roger offered, feeling that his life was entirely surreal as he cautiously returned the hug.

“As soon as I felt you land on my humble little planet here, I came looking. My orgy guests were disappointed, naturally, but I had to put my interests first. What was I, elected? If they wanted a leader who would pretend to care about everyone equally, they should have organized themselves into a viable political party capable of rivalling my dictatorship, am I right?” He drew back slightly and laughed. “You should see your face! I’m kidding. I would’ve had anyone involved in such a thing put to death. Don’t you worry, Hairball.”

Roger cleared his throat. He’d learned so much in the last few sentences alone. Death. Dictator. Orgy. Any one of those things was a lot to confront and yet… he was calmed by the Grandmaster’s presence. He was alive and unmelted. He’d managed to find his soulmate—a man he’d been almost certain to never meet as things stood with Earth’s individually-impressive but cosmically-insignificant progress with space travel. At long last, the universe had smiled on Roger Harrington.

“Just Roger is good,” he said. If last names ever came up again, he would tactfully correct his soulmate, but with a name like ‘the Grandmaster,’ he doubted they ever would.

“Roger. Anything you say.” Gripping Roger’s shoulders, the Grandmaster leaned in and planted a sound kiss on his forehead with a loud, “Mmmwah!”

He asked Roger if he would like to go aboard his ship, apologizing that it wasn’t the one where he’d just been having the orgy and appearing to check Roger’s face for disappointment. Roger didn’t know what the Grandmaster saw in his expression, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Inside the spaceship, Roger looked around with huge eyes. He hadn’t felt this kind of wonder in a room jammed with so much beyond his understanding since the first time his mom had taken him to the New York Hall of Science as a kid. Everything was bright and white and immaculately clean, and Roger could concentrate on all of it because the Grandmaster had Topaz drop the volume of his party playlist until it was just a low pulse of background noise. Seemingly amused by his awe, the Grandmaster allowed him a peek at the controls before gently herding him into a chamber with seating arranged for socializing. A pneumatic hiss sealed them safely inside and away from the woman’s scowl.

“I really just wanna sit here and, uh, just look atcha, but that look on your face tells me you’ve got about a million questions.”

The Grandmaster settled back into the bench seating, resting his long arms along the top of the seat. Across from him, Roger fidgeted, experiencing sensory overload. Soulmate. Spaceship. Alien planet. He found it hard to decide what to ask first. Was that even polite? Was the Grandmaster just saying that Roger could ask questions when he really wanted Roger to say or do something else? There was an awfully flirtatious look in his eye, the likes of which Roger hadn’t seen directed towards himself in several years.

“What is this place?” Roger asked before he could stop himself. “Where am I?”

“Oh! This is Sakaar! Are you saying you didn’t come here on purpose? I figured you weren’t aiming for a pile of trash, but you really didn’t know where you were going at all?”

Roger shook his head so hard that he had to nudge his slipping glasses back up his nose.

“It was an accident. I fell through a wizard’s—uh, I mean, a sorcerer’s—magic portal. That kind of clumsiness must sound pretty farfetched to someone who’s so obviously…” Roger motioned spastically towards his soulmate, the dictator, with both hands. “…in control of their life.”

The Grandmaster laughed, transparently pleased and preening.

“Oh, Roger, you flatter me.”

He stretched out his leg to playfully tap his shoe (gold) against Roger’s (plain, brown, frayed shoelace). Roger jumped, giddy from an alteration in sea level, possibly, plus life-changing events.

“But it really isn’t so uncommon for people, beings, things… to end up here without meaning to,” the Grandmaster went on. “A lot of junk passes through the Anus. Not that you’re junk, obviously.”

With a winning smile, Roger’s soulmate leaned forward and patted him on the knee. He was a touchy-feely guy, it seemed, and it made Roger cognizant of how very lonely he’d been in his marriage, in the last year especially. How skittish around strangers, how unaffectionate with his friends. This was what he needed, and the universe had understood that.

It took his brain a few seconds to catch up with what his soulmate had said, distracted by the comfort he was taking in his easy warmth.

“The Anus?” Roger asked in a choked voice.

“The Devil’s Anus, to be exact. That enormous, horrifying wormhole out there in the sky!” the Grandmaster explained, gleeful. “Best I can guess, it acts as a funnel for accidental travelers, like yourself. And boy, are we ever grateful for that thing. I’ve never had to post any ‘Help Wanted’ flyers, I’ll tell ya that. We need more people serving drinks? Boom. More entertainers? Boom. More lubricators for the orgies? Boom, the Anus provides, baby.”

Roger didn’t inquire what the duties of a person with the job title ‘orgy lubricator’ entailed; it seemed sleazily self-explanatory. He just nodded.

“And now,” his perfect, golden match continued, “the portal brings me my soulmate. I love that thing. It’s really somethin’, huh?”

“It’s really something,” Roger agreed. “Really, really something.”

“You’re looking just a little stunned there, Rodge. Can I offer you something to eat? A drink? I promise, I’m usually a much better host. I feel like I’m positively, uh, bumbling right now.” He beamed.

This man was so many things at once—possibly too many—but bumbling was so far from being one of them that Roger actually laughed weaky in his state of happy, semi-delirium. He accepted the cold glass that was pressed into his hand, the brush of the Grandmaster’s warm palm across his forehead. He had moved to sit right next to Roger.

“You can get used to this place at your own pace, within reason.” His soulmate chuckled. “Heck, we can stay right here a day or two. My plans are cancelled, and when I stop, the world stops. That’s how it is, being the Grandmaster, and that’s how it’s gonna be for you too. You can give all your worries a big, wet kiss goodbye, my love. You’re living a life of luxury now. A court of sycophants, fights to the death in the evening, orgies on a lazy afternoon. I’m talkin’ a life of pure class—”

“Class!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s what I said.” The Grandmaster was wearing a languid smile as he traced the back of his fingers along Roger’s jaw.

But Roger was suddenly too alert to be lulled by welcome caresses and delicious, exotic beverages.

“I was teaching a class before I fell through the portal,” he said. “I’m a teacher. My students are probably terrified. Some of them might be messed up for life after watching me disappear right in front of them. What have I done…”

“So you gave them a cool story to tell their friends! You don’t need to think about that anymore. Now that you’re living here—”

“I can’t live here!” Roger said, seizing the Grandmaster’s hands in his as he tried desperately to explain. “I have responsibilities as an educator! Jesus Christ, I’m married!”

“Roger. Rodge. Rodge. Hey,” his soulmate said, finally disrupting Roger’s spiral of panic. “That’s all in the past. Do you know how many creatures from just, uh, every darn corner of the universe I’ve made slaughter each other for my entertainment? Thousands, Roger, ok? Thousands. And it’s taught me oodles about life. What I’ve learned is that love is the only thing that matters. What all of those poor bastards scream for in the end is their mom, their partner, their best friend. Now, that doesn’t help them, but it helps us. It helps us understand that we’ve done it—we’ve achieved the one thing in our lives that was worth a damn to achieve. I’m not gonna, gonna now be parted from you, sweetheart. You are the point of me.”

Roger felt himself growing teary at the speech. Yes, this had been a whirlwind—they’d met no more than 15 minutes ago—but he was feeling something just as deep as the love the Grandmaster described. It was a fantasy in the best way, the life his soulmate pictured for them (most of it… maybe not the part about slaughter). But it was a fantasy in the worst way too, something so impossible that Roger felt sick for getting as attached to this man as he already had.

“I can’t,” he said softly. He let his head hang down, solaced when the Grandmaster guided it onto his shoulder and wrapped a protective arm around him.

“Can’t you? For me? Roger, if I put you on a ship and send you back through the Anus, we may never meet again.”

Roger squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to be selfish, but there were people he couldn’t leave in the lurch. People who maybe didn’t care about him in a way that was equal to how he cared about them, but that was how any kind of relationship was, apart from soulmates. There were imbalances. He knew he might not be the most brilliant scientist, the most inspirational teacher, the husband a woman would prefer over the outdoorsy hunk in her hiking group, but he knew who he was: he was someone who couldn’t just walk away.

“We’ll be together again,” Roger said, clutching the Grandmaster’s robes. “After.”

Though he didn’t yet know what ‘after’ would mean.

—

It wasn’t as unexpected as it could have been—Roger had always had a feeling he’d die on a school bus.

The difference between his fears and reality was that he wasn’t departing this world in a fiery crash or zooming out of control between the steel trusses and into the East River. There was confusion, there was chaos, there were screams and the violent honking of horns, but there were elements he couldn’t have predicted. Primarily, the giant alien spacecraft hovering over the city. The ship immediately moved into first place of the most ominous rings in his life (he and his wife were not in a good place). Since its sighting, things had quickly spiraled out of control. Julius had radioed Roger from the other bus of students they were chaperoning to MoMA to report that Ned Leeds had ‘flipped his shit’ and Peter Parker was currently missing. Roger had nearly passed out. The only thing that had kept him conscious was his jittery concern for the rest of his students.

At Midtown Tech, they had drills for almost every eventuality. As of 2012, hostile outer space invasion was actually part of their repertoire, but it had always been assumed they would be at school when it happened, not out on a field trip. The most Roger had been able to think to do was get the kids to a secure location. Which meant getting the buses to a secure location. But the buses were on the bridge, and all over the bridge drivers were panicking, mindlessly stomping on the gas and attempting to swerve around the rest of the vehicles. Above the blood rushing in his ears, he’d heard crash after crash, until their bus was hemmed in and, through the smoking, crumpled hoods of their fellow commuters, the alien ship hung stationary in the sky. Disturbingly tranquil as New York City went to pieces to the tune of apocalyptic dissonance just below.

In the end, the spaceship hadn’t stayed put, but Roger had. The lanes around them were crowded with smashed cars. Glass from shattered windshields glittered on the pavement. Still, more vehicles surged forward as drivers attempted to use the bridge to flee the city; this wasn’t NYC’s first alien rodeo. He hadn’t attempted to force any of his students to remain on the bus—they were some of the smartest and the best of their generation, and he trusted their survival instincts far more than his own—but he did direct the ones who fled to first climb up onto the roof of the bus instead of dropping directly down onto the street and risking injury. Yes, he worried about minor cuts and bruises. Even now.

He thought that Flash was staying with him, and was touched. But then he realized Flash was just gripping his shoulder for leverage as he jumped and grabbed for the emergency roof hatch with his free hand. Roger knew the boy was somewhat neglected by his parents, and so, for the first time, he was happy go hear ‘Hotline Bling.’ It was Flash’s ringtone and it played incessantly as his phone rang and rang until the song, and the sound of Flash running, faded into the distance. Somebody wanted to see that he was safe. Somebody cared about him.

Alone, Roger hunkered down between the seats, knees bent in front of him. He scraped one hand anxiously through his hair and gripped his phone in the other.

He should call his wife. He knew he should. Only, he was afraid that she either wouldn’t pick up or she’d answer and be with the guy from her hiking group. Roger wasn’t even upset; he was glad she had someone, if this was it.

Ever since he’d returned from Sakaar, he’d been different, he was aware that he had. In the past, his wife had been largely responsible for the sundering of their marriage, but Roger knew that he was now pulling away too. It had begun inside him—the tear. He wanted to be with two people for two different reasons. In two places, on two worlds. Commitment clashed with longing. Logical rightness fought emotional rightness. He’d been weak, persuading himself daily to tough it out with his wife (even as he slept on the couch every night because lying beside her made him unhappy), when, for once in his damn life, he wanted to be fulfilled. Somewhere out in the stars, there was a man with blue eyeliner and an entire planet at his capricious command and he was the person for Roger.

If only, he thought, picturing the face he shouldn’t have been able to recall so clearly for the brevity of their encounter months ago. Roger shut his eyes to better remember the Grandmaster, and so he wouldn’t have to see his phone clatter to the bus’s dirty floor when the hand that held it turned to dust.

—

As with his life on regular, non-apocalypse days, not much happened to Roger. Despite his paralyzing breakdown on a school bus, he wasn’t among the billions scattered to the wind like sentient dandruff. He picked himself up and went home. Sure, he was shivering almost out of his skin from the shock, but he didn’t collapse into wracking, snotty sobs until he was safely in his living room, listening to his neighbours’ wails through the condo’s walls.

Roger’s wife wasn’t there, didn’t answer when he called her, and, three weeks later, still hadn’t made contact. It took another two months to hold her wake; the funeral business was booming. Never had so many words been spoken over so many vacant graves. Some members of his wife’s hiking group attended, some had even helped him select the right music and flowers beforehand. They knew her preferences. It felt surreal to be burying a person he couldn’t prove—in any meaningful way—that he’d really known.

With a queasy sense of being very lucky, he accepted that, apart from his marital status, his life hadn’t been upended. His windows weren’t broken, his car wasn’t stolen, the few family members he was out of touch with anyway had also survived. He went back to work before anybody called him in. There weren’t any students at first, just the echo of Roger’s clumsy footsteps tripping over the rug in the staffroom, half-solved equations on the whiteboards in the math classrooms, and the unholy stench of unwashed pinnies when he poked his head into the gym storage room to see if Coach Wilson was around. One day, Roger tipped back in the chair at the front of his own empty classroom and spotted a gigantic cobweb in the corner of the ceiling. It made him think of Spider-Man. He guessed that guy was gone too.

The most important thing for keeping sane was establishing a regimen. Work was a big part of that, but Roger also traveled daily into Manhattan to visit the Sorcerer’s place. It became a kind of pilgrimage. Early on, Wong would come out to say hello, but it was eventually less about commiseration and more of a perfunctory thing. Roger knew (assumed, hoped) that if the Sorcerer ever did return, Wong would let him know and welcome him inside. And then… a portal? And then the Grandmaster? He tried not to think about it too hard. Yearning took up a lot of energy and, when his students began to come back to school in distressingly low numbers, Roger needed to reserve that energy for teaching.

Everything was the same, every day, until it wasn’t.

For a reason he couldn’t rationally explain, Roger knocked on the Sorcerer’s door. While he was waiting—just a few seconds, he planned—a man materialized on the sidewalk right next to him. He tottered and Roger reflexively said, “Whoa!” and grabbed his shoulder to keep him on his feet. Before Roger could hypothesize or ask the man any questions, a teenage girl returned to existence a few feet away. Then a woman holding a toddler tightly in her arms. A little boy. A man with a dog. A bicycle-less bike cop, still wearing his helmet. Releasing the man, Roger spun and pounded against the door with his fist.

Still, no one answered.

Fighting the urge to show up at Midtown Tech, Roger made himself stay put, right there on the Sorcerer’s doorstep.

He waited a long time. As the sun set, New York City rose around him. He watched people hugging, running home down the middle of the street. He fielded unfinished questions as the newly returned began to ask him what had happened, what time it was, what year, before jogging away, more purposeful with every step they took. Roger’s foot began to bounce on the sidewalk and his clammy hands twisted fretfully. It was still another 12 hours before the door opened.

Roger fell backwards into Wong’s shins, delirious from the sickening seesaw between urgency and exhaustion. Everywhere, people were reconnecting. He scrambled to his feet because he wanted to be one of them.

“Is he here?” Roger demanded.

Wong narrowed his eyes slightly, holding the door so it couldn’t be pushed open further.

“Might I remind you that it’s me you’ve been seeing here the last five years.”

“Yeah,” Roger agreed, trying to see past.

“I thought we had developed a rapport.”

Finally, Roger met Wong’s eyes, his own pleading.

“No, yes, you’re right, we have,” he babbled.

“We’re friends.”

“Yes, of course, we are friends. Definitely.”

“So when is my birthday?”

Roger’s mouth hung open as he searched his brain for a piece of information he knew wasn’t in there. A few seconds later, Wong turned mirthful.

“Did you spend the Blip hiding under a rock where there are no jokes? Come inside. We just got back.”

None of the thousands of times he’d come to the door mattered—Roger hadn’t been inside the Sanctum since that first time. He hoped the Sorcerer remembered him.

When he saw the man, Roger’s steps stuttered. The Sorcerer appeared grim and wiped out. He was dirty and he looked older, though Wong whispered to Roger that the Sorcerer had been among the Snapped. Roger understood that, for something to go right and bring everyone back to life, something else had gone wrong. He could dwell on that and awkwardly bow his way back out of there, or he could convince himself that things had gone wrong for him too, and that he’d like them to be righted. He remembered that his soulmate was a dictator and tried to channel that sense of entitlement.

“What do you know about the Anus?”

The Sorcerer blinked.

“What.” The word came out perfectly flat.

“The Anus.”

“I wasn’t that kind of doctor.”

Roger strode eagerly towards him, hands gesturing before his words caught up.

“When I was here about, um, five and a half years ago, I fell through your magic portal—”

The Sorcerer snapped his fingers in recognition and turned to Wong.

“Oh, that’s who this is. I always wondered what happened to that guy.” He looked at Roger again. “How did you get back to Earth?”

Roger hadn’t been prepared to answer this question, just make his demands, and he began to explain what had happened to him, all out of order. The words ‘orgy ship’ had barely left his mouth when the Sorcerer was waving him into silence. His expression told Roger he was sorry he’d asked.

“So you went through the portal…” he prompted instead.

“That’s right! And for a while, I was just falling. I don’t know where I was.”

The Sorcerer stroked his chin.

“The connection must’ve been unstable. I know—one of your students distracted me.”

“That’d be Flash,” Roger said.

“Jesus. This is why I prefer not to be a field trip destination. Normally, the portal would allow you to pass cleanly through one place and into another.”

“And instead he passed cleanly through the Anus,” Wong summarized.

“…Yeah.”

Roger glanced from one man to the other.

“So,” he said, “could you do it again?”

The Sorcerer stared at him.

“The short answer is no. The long answer is also no, but it contains a great deal of vernacular to do with the Mystic Arts, so I’ll save us both some time.”

The last time Roger had defended his intellect and qualifications had been years ago, and he was out of practice. Anyway, he didn’t want a lengthy debate.

“Can’t you just open a portal and shove me through?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a lot going on today. I’ve only entertained you this long because you and Wong seem to be friends. I’m not just going to mess around to humour you.”

“What if you had to do it?” Roger asked quickly, beginning to feel desperate and preparing to metaphorically jam one of his clumsy feet into the closing window of opportunity.

“Uh, let me think about that,” the Sorcerer droned disinterestedly. “No.”

“What if I attacked you and you opened a portal in self-defence?”

The Sorcerer squinted at him in disbelief and befuddlement.

“What?”

But Roger was already gracelessly throwing his weight into a wild, uncoordinated punch.

For once, he didn’t think critically of himself; he told himself that the Sorcerer’s portal sparked up between them because he was intimidated by Roger’s tenacity. And that it didn’t show a clear destination because the Sorcerer’s reaction speed was no match for Roger using the element of surprise. And that he dove purposely through the portal—on a mission for love and science and the unknown—instead of tumbling into it sideways because the momentum of his unpracticed punch had gotten the better of his balance. It didn’t matter. His feet went out from under him and he was on his way.

Roger had forgotten how intense the trip was, but he completely recalled the rough landing, bouncing down through a stack of the universe’s lost garbage. He shut his eyes to the whooshing and the brightness and braced himself (probably too early, but he didn’t think he could be too careful on this reckless endeavor).

He felt his body hit open air and gasped as he fell, trying to keep his limbs tucked in. The hat he’d been wearing was torn from his head. Didn’t matter; it wouldn’t have offered much protection anyway. At any moment, his poor elbows and knees would be battered by space junk. Between his velocity and his fear of the coming impact, Roger could hardly breathe.

Music. A familiar voice singing, It’s my soulmate! made his eyes fly open. Right in time to land on his back. Whatever was beneath Roger was soft, but he’d still had the wind knocked out of him and was struggling to fill his lungs. His eyes clamped shut as he began to cough.

“I have no idea how you survived that thing twice, but I sure am glad I caught ya.”

Finally sucking in a stronger breath, Roger opened his eyes and looked up. His glasses were askew. Above him was the opening in the ceiling of a hovering spacecraft, but closer than that, leaning over him, was the face of the Grandmaster. He was beaming.

“Any trouble with the Anus?” he asked.

Roger grabbed for the hand his soulmate had rested on his shoulder and moved it to his chest, right over his heart.

“The asshole who got me here will probably be thrilled to never see me again, but the Anus treated me just fine.”

“Ha!” the Grandmaster barked. His free hand lovingly patted Roger’s windblown hair back into place. “Welcome home.”

#my writing #MCU #spider-man #thor: ragnarok #Roger Harrington #En Dwi Gast (the Grandmaster)#their ship name is Mr. Master and they're what G deserves on her birthday

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velvetmel0n · 4 years

Text

First Time For Everything

Summary: Sleeping together counts as anger management, right?

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: It’s 3k+ words of smut, idk either ya’ll but uhhh penetrative sex, sex in a hallway, mutual pining?? Don’t know how that happened but we also got some good old fashioned thigh riding and a teensy bit of almost-but-not-quite-exhibitionism and Poe’s hot for it, fight me

A/N: Given my URL is anyone surprised I wrote for him first? No

The first time it happens it’s angry. Or it starts that way, at least.

You’d been arguing about something, maybe nothing at this point because it seemed all the pilot had to do was breathe in your direction some days and you two were at each other’s throats, hurling insults and accusations back and forth and you think that you might hit him this time, actually hit him. Slap him across the face so that your hand leaves a red, stinging outline on his cheek or punch him hard enough to hopefully break his nose and not your hand. But that’s not what happens.

What happens instead is that he crowds you, pushing into your space and you’re wishing you had the Force because you would knock him back into last Tuesday and- and then he’s kissing you. His mouth comes down hard against your own like he’s trying to wordlessly continue the argument, chapped lips working yours and demanding a response from you.

Maker help you, you give him one.

You dig your nails into his shoulders, scratch them down the arms that he’s using to yank you closer to him when he licks into your mouth because you’re still angry with him and the stunts he pulls. He shoves you harder against the wall in response, hard enough for your breath to stall in your throat, hard enough that your skin prickles and something twists in your belly, heat suffusing your body.

And…and that might be the precise moment when all that anger you kept stoked for Poe Dameron starts to spiral into the type of lust that you can’t ignore, can’t just pretend like it’s not burning a hole through the pit of your stomach. Not when his tongue is down your throat and his hands are in your hair, on your hips, grabbing fist fulls of fabric and pulling.

Your head is starting to spin from the combined effects of lack of oxygen and the feel of his stubble abrading your skin and you can’t quite remember why kissing him is such a bad idea. Why you had always tried to cut yourself off from whatever feelings you may or may not have for him like they were a gangrenous limb. But for as hard as you tried to push them away you still got nervous whenever he took off, knowing he was a good pilot but also knowing he had no problems almost killing himself for the possibility of saving the galaxy. It happened before and it’s bound to happen again; it almost happened today for crying out loud and if you were the self analyzing sort you might think that that’s the reason he got on your nerves so easily.

But he keeps eating at your mouth, nipping at your lip and a groan, quiet and rough, slips from him when your fingers twist in the curls at the back of his neck and you nip him back. And just like that you aren’t able to think about anything else that isn’t getting him to make that sound again.

His mouth finally breaks from yours and then he’s at your throat, mouthing at the sensitive skin under your ear and swirling his tongue against your flesh like he wants to see how you taste here, too. One of your hands move to grip the collar of his stupid, bright orange flight suit like a lifeline when he continues down the column of your neck, only dimly aware of the fact that you two are in some shadowy alcove and caring less and less about the chance of someone catching you two.

Then he shoves a thigh between your own and you don’t care at all.

You stop breathing for a moment, suspended in time before your hips stutter into a roll and all that air you’d been holding whooshes out of your lungs in a long sigh. “That’s it,” They’re the first words he’s said since corning you against the wall, his tone dark and low. Almost…soft. At odds with the way he’s been working your neck over with his teeth, no doubt leaving marks that you’d find later after you’ve come to your senses.

“Thaaat’s it,” He praises again, one of his big hands falling to your hip to wrench you harder against him until your clit is mashed against the meat of his thigh. Heat floods your system, his name little more than a puff of air leaving your lips and you’re helpless to stop yourself from grinding down. Your hands scramble to grab something, anything, ending up catching his face and pulling him back up to you, muffling your moan against his lips.

You feel like you could melt into a puddle right here against the wall, reduced to some quivering mess, and you want nothing more than to drag him down with you. He’s palming your breasts through your shirt now, finding your nipple through the fabric and pinching. You can feel the bulge of his cock against your thigh and the heat of it makes your mouth start to water and you want to go to your knees for him and take him into your mouth because… Well because you want to make him shake and pant and moan.

And then you hear the voices.

And instead of breaking apart, of doing the smart thing and running away before anyone catches you, the bastard grins at you. It’s a sharp, almost devious slash of white teeth in the shadows as he replaces his thigh with his hand.

“They won’t know we’re here if you don’t make any noise,” He mutters at your ear and the urge to hit him is back as the voices draw closer, panic rising in your chest just as fast as the whole aroused, willing-to-jump-Poe-Fucking-Dameron-in-a-hallway thing had.

“Let me go!” You hiss, afraid even that would alert whoever was coming, but to no avail. You try to stand on your tippy toes, try to crane your neck to see if they’ve turned down the hallway yet, and all the while Poe is working his hand into your pants with a renewed sense of urgency, like the threat of being caught excites him.

Because of course it does.

This was insane; ridiculous, dumb, quite possibly the worst decision you have made in the past three months, maybe longer. You hate him and you hate his stupid, reckless- oh. The breath leaves your lungs when a single, calloused finger runs along the length of your slit. You hadn’t been expecting him to completely fucking bypass your underwear, hadn’t been prepared for the feel of it.

Poe’s mouth falls open as he watches your expressions, watches the way your eyelids almost slip closed and your teeth sink into your lip. “I knew you liked me,” It’s a taunt, but it’s breathless and there’s no real venom behind it, the pilot too wrapped up in how wet you are for him. How soft, how hot. You’re practically dripping into his palm at this point and if he’s being honest with himself he wants to drown in it.

“You’re such a bastard,” You’re rocking your hips towards him all the same though, trying not to whine because he’s- he’s playing with you now. Just spreading your slick around, avoiding your clit entirely might you add, like he can’t get over the fact that it’s for him. You grab at his flight suit again, needing to hold onto something as he keeps petting you, dragging his fingers along your slit and over your lips, acting like he has all the time in the world despite the voices growing louder and clearer and you think you might actually cry if he keeps this up.

Your head starts to loll back against the wall as he keeps rubbing at you, giving you just enough stimulation to set your teeth on edge, but then he’s grabbing your jaw and leaning closer, pressing his forehead into yours. “Look at me,” It’s stern, more of a command than anything else. If this was any other time, if you weren’t in a hallway and if his hand wasn’t between your legs, there’s a good chance you would tell him to fuck right off on principle. But here you are and his hand isn’t stopping, and, embarrassingly, something about his tone is just…just working for you.

So you manage to pry open your eyes, vulnerability rocking through you when you meet his gaze head on. His eyes are dark and hungry, pupils blown out and flickering around your face like he’s trying to catch every little bite of your lip, every flinch when he touches you in just the right spot. He looks so absorbed in what he’s doing, staring at you hard like he’s trying to read your fucking mind or something and it’s affecting you just as much as his fingers are.

“Poe,” You try to appeal to him again, hearing footsteps now and your voice is high and tight from fear and the fact that he’s decided that pushing a finger into you at this exact moment is the best course of action. And, inanely, you think that nothing has felt as good as this. Then he presses the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit and begins to rub little circles into the bundle of nerves and you stand corrected; nothing has ever felt as good as this. You desperately try to suck in enough air, a whine building in your throat. He shushes you, giving your jaw a short squeeze you take to mean as him telling you to shut up and, miraculously given the current set of circumstances, you manage to swallow back any noises you’re attempting to make.

You’re unable to look away from him when he begins to feed another finger into your soaked pussy and starts to leisurely pump them in and out, never once breaking eye contact with you. Dimly you realize that the footsteps have turned down some other corridor before they reached you and you really want to say that that’s the main reason you start sagging against the wall, hips rolling as best they could with the somewhat awkward positioning.

He seems intent on dragging your pleasure out for as long as possible but the chance of getting caught is still very much present and despite your hazy brain, you know you might not get lucky the next time.

You tackle his suit with shaking hands, trying to remember how to breathe because he keeps filling you up to the knuckle with his fingers and you can feel the rough drag of them against your walls. You fumble the zipper once, twice, yanking it down on the third try- and you can’t stop the disappointment that bubbles to the surface when you see he’s wearing a shirt underneath.

You lean forwards and begin to mouth at his neck all the same, smiling against his skin when you feel the hand between your thighs stutter, stalling for several moments while he’s distracted by your mouth on his skin before he resumes fucking you with his fingers. You keep going, sucking and nibbling marks to match your own while your hands run over his torso appreciatively, wishing you two weren’t in a hallway so you could take your time to explore him.

Instead you keep heading towards your destination, tugging his zipper down further so you’re able to push your hand into his underwear. You decide to forgo any teasing and wrap your hand around the hard length of him, preening when he makes a noise that sounds somewhere between a choke and a moan from low in his throat. His free hand comes up to brace himself on the wall beside your head and he leans into you, breathing harshly while you stroke him.

Stars, he’s thick. Thicker than you imagined he’d be- not that you imagined this, not like you fantasized about what his cock might be like when you were keyed up and couldn’t sleep, or at any other time of day for that matter. No, not like that at all.

You peek down and you’re just able to catch a glimpse of the tip between your bodies, and fuck he’s pretty too. Ruddy and weeping underneath your palm as you twist and pull and swipe your thumb through the beads of pearly fluid collecting there, wishing they were on your tongue instead.

“Let me fuck you,” He breathes, thrusting into your first. He presses his lips over yours before you can answer in an open mouthed kiss. “Please let me fuck you,” It’s a ragged plea against your mouth and how could you possibly say no to Poe Dameron begging?

“If you don’t I swear I’ll stran-strangle you,” It’s less threatening than you wanted it to be, your voice keening and needy, but it got the job done and that’s all you could ask for given your current state. He slips his fingers from you and you can’t stop yourself from whining with the loss, with the promise of what’s about to replace them.

He doesn’t waste any time, his hand replacing your own and the anticipation of it all has your toes curling in your boots before he stops short, the blunt head of his cock just…Just slipping across your folds, coating himself in your slick. You can’t help but squirm because yes, it feels amazing because the head of his cock keeps sawing over you clit but you want him inside, dammit. You’re about to goad him more, wanting to tell him that if he doesn’t get on with it you’re going to blast him in his pretty face, when he finally pushes into your weeping cunt.

You stop breathing, sure that you’ve never been more full in your life, and he’s making another of those choked off, moaning sounds from somewhere in his chest. He mutters something you don’t catch over the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears and then he’s moving, slow and steady at first but picking up steam until he’s pounding you into the wall. Thankfully he still has enough sense to slap a hand over your mouth because honestly, you shouldn’t be held responsible for the sounds you’re making right now.

You claw at his shirt, his suit, trying to keep him as close to you as possible. He moves his hand from the wall to slip under your leg, hitching it up as much as he could with your pants pulled tight around your knees and something about that slight shift in angle has you locking up when he hits some magical spot that you didn’t even realize you had, squeezing your eyes so tight a tear leaks out because now he’s slowed down again. Letting you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he drills it into that spot over and over again and you really, really do not have time for this but it just feels so good.

You try to tell him you’re about to cum, you really do. But he still has his hand over your mouth and the most you can do is let out some pathetic whimper against it. The muscles in your abdomen tighten and he shuffles impossibly closer to you, not so much thrusting as he is grinding into you now and keeping delicious pressure on that one piece of you that had you seeing stars and your clit is pressed up against his pubic bone and just like that it’s over.

Your eyes flutter and roll back into your head while you claw at him, sobbing into his hand as your body melts down around him in a rush of heat and wet. His head pops up from where it was resting on your shoulder, watching you through almost delirious eyes while he works you through it, hips doubling down until you almost can’t take it anymore.

He isn’t going to last, not after that. Not after the sounds you made, how absolutely wrecked you were as you shook in his arms. “Wh-where do you…where do you want it,” He slurs, trying to keep it together for just a little bit longer. He doesn’t remember to take his hand away from your mouth until you mumble something against it.

“Insi-side,” He can’t exactly cum anywhere else and expect to keep this little tryst a secret, but you think it’s nice that he still asked. Maybe there is a gentlemanly side of Poe hidden somewhere after all. Hallway-fucking not withstanding.

At your words he makes a noise that sounds almost painful and hunkers over you, curling his body around yours and goes to town with his hips plowing into yours. You wrap your arms around him and hold him close, catching his jaw with your hand and dragging him into an open mouthed, sloppy kiss.

Something twists in your gut then, pulling tight like an electrified wire that runs the length of your spine and you have a moment of disbelief. The only sounds are harsh breathing, Poe’s hips slamming into yours muffled by the thick fabric of his flight suit, and the obscene sounds of his cock disappearing into your body, and you think that you might actually cum again.

Again.

In the hallway.

This couldn’t be real. You had just gone too long without getting laid and are having some sort of hyper realistic fever dream to compensate. But then Poe shoves himself as deep as he can go and fucking stays there and the wire holding your entire body together at this point just snaps. Your pussy clenches around his cock and then it’s just bliss, complete bliss, because you feel him jolt against you, how he’s throbbing and wow you really didn’t think it would feel this good to have his warmth coating your insides but it does. You’re still trying to regain the ability to breathe properly when he starts talking.

”Fuck,” You’re consoled by the fact that he sounds as wrecked as you feel, but he keeps going, murmuring like he was in a daze while he mouthed at your skin. Not really doing anything in particular, but like he wanted to just…feel you. Ghosting his lips over your pulse point, running his tongue over the corner of your jaw. Kissing your shoulder. He tells you how good you felt, feel around him because he hasn’t pulled out of you yet, how perfect you are at taking him.

You soak up the praise like a sponge, the words going straight to your head and making you want to purr. You have to return to reality though, and you’re only allowed a few moments of being blissed out with a complimenting, affectionate Poe before you snap out of it.

“Okay get off, get off, get off,” You chant, trying to push his shoulders and pull up your pants at the same time. “We need to go.” His cock slips from you with all the jumping around you’re doing and you aren’t prepared for how empty you feel without it, how fucking bereft. Nope, you aren’t dealing with that right now. No way. You’d deal with your sudden, apparently emotional attachment to Poe Dameron’s cock when you aren’t at risk of getting caught with your pants down. Literally.

The pilot can’t help but chuckle at how frantic you are, unceremoniously yanking your pants up and trying to smooth out the wrinkles, trying to make yourself look as presentable as possible. All he has to do is tuck himself back into his pants and zip his flight suit, meaning all of his concentration can be on you. Warmth blooms in his chest and he wants to kiss you again, just kiss you.

He really didn’t plan on this to happen when he followed you, honest. He was just continuing the fight, dogging your heels in a way he knew would have you seeing red. Maybe he’s a masochist -or a sadist, considering- but he loves it when you’re angry. Not because of anything real or meaningful; the kind of anger that comes from pushed buttons and butting heads, the kind that makes your eyes light up and all your attention focus on him and him alone. Schoolyard tactics sure, but it was the one surefire way he had of monopolizing your time and he wasn’t above using it to his own selfish reasons

“See you around, Dameron!” You toss the words over your shoulder as you speed walk away from him, trying not to break into a run back to your room in your haste to get away from the scene of the crime… and your feelings, but that’s neither here nor there.

He frowns at your retreating back. A few minutes ago he was Poe. He was Poe and you couldn’t get enough of him, were almost climbing him like a tree in an effort to get closer and if it wasn’t for your pants getting in the way, he was sure you would have.

But he doesn’t start to follow you again. As much as he wants to, he just stands there in the hallway, looking lost before he collects himself. You’d talk about this later, whatever this had just turned into because he doesn’t want it to end. Not even close.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron smut #star wars fic #hoo boy my very first smut #I've spent too long looking at it I can't tell if it's good or not

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writingtoforgetreality · 4 years

Text

You´re Hurting Me (Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

Request: Can I request a lucifer x reader one shot where Lucifer and reader get into a heated argument, and he hurts the reader but quickly regrets it and it ends good? ;0 (by @candle-anon), [Lucifer-Masterlist]

Summary: Crime solving was not always easy, sometimes danger was close. A protective boyfriend made the job even harder. You could not even be mad at him, he just wanted you to be safe. This time, though, he went a bit too far.

Words: 1,573

Warnings: mentions of rape, argument, angsty shit (uhhh, I love this), language (nothing new), fluff, (Y/A) = your age, (Y/H/C) = your hair color, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Another crime solved. Success. Well, partly. This time though, not everything went smoothly. You should have seen it coming, all of you.

You were looking for a man who strolled through the bars of LA and managed to wrap young girls around his finger. His preferred look was a pretty woman, around (Y/A) years old, (Y/H/C) hair and (Y/E/C) eyes. Usually, someone like him was easy to catch. This case, though, got on your nerves. At first, it was Lucifer´s and your case but you desperately needed help so you got Chloe and Dan on board. This far, he had killed four women. The autopsy revealed that every single one of the women had been raped before he had choked them to death.

After the L.A.P.D found the latest victim, you knew you had to act fast. The lives of other innocent women were at risk. Before you even processed what was happening, you found yourself at a shitty bar, ordering a strong drink, not really caring which one. Since your appearance was similar to the victims´, your team thought it was the only way to catch this sick fuck. Well, not everyone approved. Lucifer, your boyfriend, was against this idea, understandingly. Yet, he knew there was no other chance to bring the perpetrator to a halt. After a long heated discussion, he more or less agreed but only if he was close behind all the time.

You could not quite make out the conversations going on next to you. All you could hear was your loud and hammering heartbeat. Even after trying to focus on something else, you failed miserably. Not too long after, you could feel a presence to your left. “Nothing new.” you thought. It was not the first time this night someone had tried to hit on you. Each time, you gently rejected.

“You know, someone like you shouldn´t be alone here at this time.” a rough voice made you look to your side. There he was. You could immediately tell it was him because some security cameras had caught him before. Unfortunately, nobody could see his face clearly. But the way he dressed and how his body language spoke for itself, you knew you hit the jackpot. Hopefully, your team would come out of their hiding spots and save you soon. They were about to save you, right?

All of a sudden, you were unable to control your body anymore. The only thing you could show was your fear through your eyes. What was happening to you? Where was Lucifer? Before you could think about it too much, you felt a strong arm wander around your waist. A tight grip holding you to the smoke smelling leather jacket. Disgust crept over you but you could not move. What kind of drug was he using? Maybe this was a bad idea. Or not if your friends would come to your rescue!

The man dragged you out through the backdoor and shoved you into a dark alleyway where he knew nobody could see you two. Still completely frozen, you knew you had no control over what would happen next. The thought of your team saving you long forgotten. He started undressing you, slowly. His touch lingering on your exposed skin way too long. Tears sprung from your eyes, running down your cheeks. This was it. Out of instinct, and because you did not want to see what he was doing to you, your eyes closed, releasing even more tears. But before his hand could touch you again, you heard a loud thud. Opening your eyes for a short time, all you could see was darkness. You were not adjusted to the dark night. Your body started losing strength and shortly after, everything went black. This time because you lost consciousness.

Waking up, you were met with the sun shining in your face. It made you squint. Your body was covered in silk sheets that felt way too familiar to you. You were in Lucifer´s bed. How did you come here? Last time you checked, you were sitting at that bar, ready to catch this rapist. Was that a dream? No, that could not be.

Moving the soft covers off of your body, you noticed you were wearing one of Lucifer´s white button ups. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you could feel a sting on your side. One of your hands moved the shirt up. A big purple bruise was covering your waist. Huh. You were clumsy but never had you had such a bad bruise before. Maybe Lucifer knew more.

“Luci?” your voice echoed through the huge apartment.

“(Y/N)? Darling.” he let out a long sigh and moved from the bar over to where you were standing. His arms opened and you let him hug you.

“You shouldn´t move around, get back to bed.” his voice sounded rather harsh.

“Oh? And why is that?” you teased, wanting to ease the tension that was building between you two.

“Funny, really. I´m not saying it again.” he started losing his temper and you could sense it. Yet you had no idea what was going on so you asked. Something you regretted mere seconds later.

“Could you not?” his scream made you take a step back. That was new. Lucifer never raised his voice towards you and if you were honest, it scared you. “STOP acting as if nothing happened yesterday! This doesn´t make it easier…” the last part was barely above a whisper.

“Luci…I have no idea what happened yesterday. All I remember is entering this bar. That´s it.” this made him look up at you.

“So you´re telling me you don´t remember being groped by this asshole? You don´t remember him undressing you? He was about to r-” it was hard for him to say it out loud. “He was about to rape you, (Y/N).” your breathed hitched and you took a second to let his words process. Slowly, bits of memory came back to you. Like how you could not move and were completely vulnerable against him.

“Did you catch him?” oh what a poor choice of words. You could see the anger rising in Lucifer. Whatever it was that triggered him, you just brought him over the edge.

“Did we- Did you hear what I just told you?” nodding at him, he did not even give you a chance to respond.

“I TOLD you it was a bad idea! I told all of them but of course they didn´t listen. And YOU agreed, too. Great, just great. Even bett-”

“It was the only way and you know that.” you interrupted him. He came closer and your back met the wall. His hands grabbed your shoulders. His grip was so hard that pain flooded through you. You did not want to tell him, though. A few seconds after, you could not bare it anymore.

“YOU´RE HURTING ME, LUCIFER! GET OFF!” you did not know how but you managed to push him off.

There was a moment of complete silence. Lucifer immediately regretted his words. Even more so, his actions. The last thing he wanted was hurting you and he just did that. He was disgusted by himself. You, on the other hand, focused your eyes on your feet, not wanting to look him in the eyes. Lucifer protected you all the time but right now, you were genuinely scared of him. What if he did it again, only, this time, harder?

“(Y/N)? I- I´m-” he took careful steps towards you only for you to move back against the wall again.

“Don´t.” your voice sounded so broken. Lucifer knew he messed up. But he tried again. This time, though, he kept his distance.

“I´m sorry. It´s just...when I saw you with that bastard, when I realized what he was about to do...I hated myself. Of course there would´ve been different ways, I should´ve sticked with my opinion. I didn´t mean to hurt you, I just want to protect you. Fuck, I´m so stupid.” he mumbled the last part more to himself but you heard him.

“Stop it, you´re not.” you looked up at him. “I agreed but trust me when I tell you how scared I was this entire time.” walking closer to him you took his hands in yours and focused on his eyes. “And then I had no control over my body and and and you weren´t there and I knew this was it. But I´m okay now, see?” tears started forming as you replayed the scene in your head again.

Lucifer hated seeing you cry so out of instinct, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in warmth and safety. Something you were used to from him. He apologized over and over again. Telling you how he did not want to hurt you and you knew he meant it. So to silence him you pressed a soft kiss on his lips, taking him by surprise. It did not take him long to go with it and he melted into your touch.

The asshole was caught, you felt safe in Lucifer´s embrace and were just happy that nothing major happened to you. Lucifer was just as scared as you, probably even more. You appreciated having a protective boyfriend even if he tended to exaggerate every now and then. This made him only more lovable, though. If he was around, danger was not that big of a problem anymore.

Published (09/17/2020) by Cathy

Tags: @suckmytoesblog, @kittenlittle24, @iinvisiblewings, @magnet-girl, @lovelybutdeadlyyy, @fanfictionsilove, @coffee-wihtout-caffeine, @kashasenpai (thanks for your support <3)

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thewritewolf · 3 years

Text

Old Ways, New Age Chapter 4

A major akuma attack hits and Ladybug has to seek out heroes to wield the miraculous if they will have any hope of stopping them.

@marinettemarch

Enjoy!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Read on Ao3

“As much as I hate to say it… the best place I can hide it is in my own room for now.” Ladybug sighed and looked at her partner with a serious expression on her face. “Do you think you can hold off the akuma long enough for me to take this back?”

Chat Noir was staring off into the distance, where the head of… something… was poking over the buildings. His tail swished behind him, low and lazy. He nodded.

“I’ll do my best to keep it distracted.” His eyes landed on her. “Hurry back though, okay?”

“I promise. Now get going, and I’ll meet up with you as soon as I can.”

With a grin, Chat Noir gave her a quick salute and leapt off the roof. A moment later, he soared back into view, propelled by his extending baton. She watched him go for a few seconds longer before taking out her yoyo and swinging away.

On the way back, her mind was racing. She had been banking on hunting down Namdak to keep the miracle box safe - but now she was going to be distracted by the akuma battle for who knows how long. Would he be bold enough to try again? If she hid it somewhere else in the city, would he be able to find it? Or would she end the battle only for it to have vanished?

The thought of some random civilian - or, even worse, an agent of Hawkmoth - finding the miracle box outside during the coming battle sent shivers down her spine. No, she’d tuck it in her room and hope that the same paranoia that made the Guardians so cautious would keep the box safe for tonight. At least then if it disappeared, she could be sure it hadn’t fallen into Hawkmoth’s hands.

She’d hidden it away the best that she could and was about to leave her room when she got a call on her yoyo. Lowering her hand from its throwing position, she backed into a corner before opening the yoyo to answer the call, ensuring that the view of her room was minimal.

“Something up, Chat?”

“Uhhh yeah I don’t think-” A wall of noise from an explosion nearby on his end drowned him out. “-and we’re gonna need some help on this.”

“Help?” Ladybug blinked down at his video image. “How much help?”

“Um…” The scene behind Chat was a blur thanks to his running and even her partner was a little hard to make it with how the screen was shaking. “How about two? Someone strong—” He cut himself off to duck and the wall behind him burst into rubble. “And maybe some insurance, too. Are there any healing miraculous?”

Ladybug cupped her chin and narrowed her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do. Can you keep it busy for a little while longer?”

Even in the middle of a fight, he took a second to flash her a grin. “For you? Anything.” A shadow fell over him and his grin evaporated. “Gotta go, LB!”

His screen went dark and she put the yoyo back on her side. Her mind racing, she pulled out the miracle box from its hiding spot and looked over the miraculous at her disposal.

This was the first time they’d had to call on new miraculous heroes since the Miracle Queen fiasco - everyone she’d already brought out was out of the running for now. At least with the miraculous they’d used before.

Someone strong… The physically strongest miraculous was Stompp, the Ox kwami. Hopefully that was what Chat meant. On the bright side, since she had never called on it before, she could give it to practically anyone she wanted.

As for insurance, well… she wasn’t aware of any healing abilities outside her Ladybug Cure, but the ability of the Snake miraculous, Second Chance, was a good runner up. Although that did mean that Luka and probably Adrien, too were out of the running.

Her eyes widened with realization. The two she had in mind might not be the perfect fit for the miraculous, but they would be the best fit she had. After checking her notes for her friends’ schedules, she hid the miracle box away as best she could and hoped that she could bring down this akuma in time.

-----------

Ladybug landed at the front door of a gym. Quips and puns could just barely be heard above the explosions and maniacal laughter of the akuma of the day, none of which was all that far away from where she was standing. Even more worrying was the occasional tremor that shook the city - was it a giant amok, or a tunneling one? Practically everyone with any sense left was long gone.

Which just left those who were too caught up in their own competition to worry about something as trivial as an akuma attack.

Upon entering the building, she peered into the various exercise rooms looking for her duo of potential heroes. Despite being inside, the sounds of battle still reached her, driving her to move faster in locating them. As much as she wanted to keep them separate for identity purposes, she had no idea if Chat would be able to hold on that long.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she opened the door to a basketball court to see the two of them locked in the middle of a game. One which only had a passing resemblance to basketball, judging by Alix’s rollerskates and the obstacles set up on the court.

Alix noticed her first, giving her a double take as she tried to dribble across the court.

“Ladybug?!”

The price for her inattention came immediately when she collided with Kim. Ladybug watched the basketball bounce forlornly past her and hit the wall. Clamping down on the last minute doubts she had about them, she walked over to the pile of athletes as they were trying to get to their feet.

“Woah!” A grin spread across Kim’s face. “Did you come to coach our match, Ladybug? Pipsqueak over here could definitely use some pointers.”

Finally getting her skates under her, Alix shot a glare at him. “You wanna try that again, airhead? Cuz the scoreboard sure as hell doesn’t agree with you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kim snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not my fault you’ve got all those dirty tricks to get ahead.”

“You-!”

“Cut it out and listen to me!” Ladybug had enough of their bickering at school - she wasn’t about to tolerate it now. “There is a big fight going on and we need help. Who’s in?”

“Oo, oo, pick me!” Kim raised his hand and put the other on Alix’s head and shoved her back slightly. “I, uh… Let’s just say this isn’t my first lap around the pool.”

Kim gave an obvious and exaggerated wink to Ladybug, who could only pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

Alix rolled her eyes. “She said she needs help, not someone that she’ll need to babysit. Besides,” Alix added with a knowing grin. “I’ve been hoping to hop into a fight for ages now. Know what I mean, LB?”

Ladybug put her hands together to cover her face, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she felt a little more composed, she looked back at them.

“I’ve got two miraculous here - the fight is going that bad. Are you still interested?”

Alix and Kim looked at each other for a moment before nodding. Ladybug gave them each her usual speech and handed them the miraculous - the Snake for Alix and the Bull for Kim. Both seemed surprised at the specific miraculous they got, but took it in stride.

With two new heroes in tow, Ladybug rushed out of the gym and hoped that she would make it in time.

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

As he examined the locking box trap that had captured his hand, Master Namdak took a moment to respect the chosen of Creation. Fire and boldness were likely pairs when dealing with those who wielded the miraculous, but deviousness and cleverness were a rare pearl.

Sadly for her, mere tricks were not sufficient to guard the miracle box - another reason why it needed to be returned to the order.

Tapping the box twice with his staff, the hinges flew open and the trap dropped to the ground, leaving the miracle box securely in his hand.

He leapt out of the room and stood on the rooftop. Deep in his bones, he knew that he needed to leave for Tibet soon. The journey was long and the return home would be equally as arduous. He stood still, quietly taking in the scenery. His eyes roved the horizon, taking in the sight of a city from two hundred years in the future.

Which was when he saw the villains that had been so helpful in acquiring the miracle box. They were locked in a desperate battle against the heroes of this city. Despite himself, Master Namdak was drawn closer to the fighting. Even setting aside his time spent removed from the world, it had been long decades since he had last seen the miraculous in action. Curiosity could not be ignored.

He watched from a rooftop as a team of four heroes battled against the puppets of the butterfly and peacock, saw the ebb and flow of the battle.

Master Namdak had long years of experience - he could see the clash of personalities apparent on the heroic team. By all rights, a lack of cohesion ought to have been enough to destroy them.

And yet... despite that, Tikki’s chosen held them firm. They followed her instructions without question, no matter how baffling they might seem. Her knowledge of the miraculous strengths was astounding as she used each power of her allies like a familiar tool in her armory. If circumstances were different, perhaps she could have been a Guardian as well. Perhaps even risen to the rank of Master, like himself.

But they fought a losing battle. Even with aid, Master Namdak knew that they were on the backfoot and edging closer and closer to defeat.

He turned to leave.

Long moments passed, but he could not take a step forward.

He looked over his shoulder at the heroes battling against evil, his heart torn between duty and compassion.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladybug #le chien kim #max kante #Chat Noir #Marinette March #ml fanfiction #my writing #Old Ways New Age

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atmilliways · 3 years

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On the 5th day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 17 - Putting up decorations!

Nathan/Charles to go with some stick figure art I drew, like, a decade ago haha.

This Is Very Unsafe

Nathan had been thinking—a dangerous pastime, he knew, but it was either that or drink until he literally vomited out all the weird feelings swimming around in his guts, and that was a no-go because he’d already tried that. Charles had given him a disapproving look for needing another liver transplant again so soon. That look, weeks later, still haunted Nathan.

The problem was that Charles was the problem.

Ever since he’d died, Nathan had been drowning in trying to remember how the guy ran everything, hoping to somehow manage Dethklok himself and avoid replacing someone who, it turned out, was really fucking irreplaceable. No one else had any right to sit behind that desk, although Nathan had done it in the hopes of channeling some latent CFO wisdom to try and get his band out of the hole they’d dug themselves into.

Then, poof, Charles had turned out to be not dead after all. But nine months of drowning didn’t just go away; ever since their manager’s return, Nathan had felt as though he’d crawled from a bottomless ocean into a desert and now, ironically, was dying of thirst.

He’d been thinking, and thinking, and then thinking some more. He’d acted out by dating Trindle, to see if Charles would have any sort of reaction, but if he did then that was one hell of a poker face. After the explosion at Klokikon and taking approximately one hundred showers, Nathan had come to the conclusion that what he’d really liked about Trindle (aside from the rockin’ tits) was that she’d wrapped her entire life and identity around him—something hadn’t even begun to occur to until he’d grabbed an offered hand for help up the last couple rungs into the dethkopter, looked up, and realized that the hand he held was Charles’.

Every day, all the time, Charles was there. His life revolved around Dethklok so literally that he’d died and then come back from the dead for them. The only reason Nathan had let go of his hand was because his bandmates were right on his ass trying to climb to safety too, and he had to get out of the way.

The whole thing had caught him by surprise. For one thing, Charles did not have rockin’ tits.

After much reflection, he’d come to the conclusion that maybe that wasn’t such a dealbreaker. He was starting to get that feeling around the guy, like back in high school when he’d had a crush on the head cheerleader and whenever he tried to talk to her he either went non-verbal or everything came out sounding angry and sullen.

So . . . he had a crush on his manager. Great.

And it was driving him fucking nuts. Did Charles even like guys? If he didn’t, would he make an exception for Nathan Explosion? If he did, was Nathan Explosion even his type? Nathan liked to think that he was everyone’s type, being famous and all . . . but that wasn’t likely to impress a man who’d held his hair back while he puked blood onto yet another operating room floor after lying about when he’d last eaten again.

But Christmas was coming up, and the holiday season was all about having a good time with the people you didn’t hate being around and making . . . fond memories and cookies and shit. As tongue-tied and stupid as Nathan always felt around Charles now, surely the holiday could offer something to talk to him about. Even if it was just about—

“Christmas decorations,” Charles repeated. His right eyebrow eased upwards a fraction of an inch.

“Yeah,” Nathan growled in confirmation, standing firmly in the manager’s office. “All over the Haus.”

“What kind—”

“All of them. All kinds.”

“. . . Okay. All kinds of decorations.” Charles made a note on the legal pad on his desk. “Live greenery or artificial?”

Nathan barely avoided saying ‘Huh? ’ out loud, because he hadn’t actually anticipated any questions. He scowled hard as he thought faster than he’d ever thought before in his life. “Uhhh . . . live.”

“Alright, I’ll have a team of Klokateers—”

“No I’ll do it. I’ll tell them what to get, I know what Christmas looks like,” Nathan snapped, and wondered why he kept interrupting. Fuck. Charles was probably getting real annoyed somewhere behind that poker face.

Charles paused, then put his pen down. “I, ah, didn’t mean to imply that you don’t.”

“Well . . . good.” Nathan crossed his arms and shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling like he should say more in order to not sound like such a jackass. “Uh, I’ll take care of the live stuff. You can do the rest, if you want.”

“Hm.” With an unreadable expression, Charles picked the pen back up. “I’m assuming you’d like the same as previous years, then? Everything in red, black, and silver?”

Nathan nodded. “And lots of candles this time,” he added, because candles were romantic and shit. Made for good mood lighting and creepy shadows.

“Lots of candles. Right.” Charles wrote that down too. His eyes flicked up to Nathan again. “Anything else?”

That’s when Nathan’s voice decided to desert him again, and he shook his head. He left shortly after, tugging his dethphone out of his pocket and searching ‘live Christmas decorations’ since he’d just fucking given himself that job. The conversation hadn’t even been worth it, all he’d done was snap at Charles again. Scowling, he thumbed through the search results and found pretty much what he’d expected.

Evergreens, ugh. Sure.

Pinecones, painful with thrown. Acceptable.

Logs. At least those could get set on fire.

Cinnamon sticks? No, Pickles would get drunk, try to eat them, and then whine about cinnamon buns.

Holly, fuck no. Not since that year Murderface had tried to make “homemade cranberry sauce.”

. . . Mistletoe.

A slow grin spread across Nathan’s broad face. Mistletoe. He could work with that.

By the start of the week before Christmas, everything was in place. Mordhaus was practically dripping with evergreen garlands and there was a dedicated contingent of Klokateers in charge of going around and making sure all the candles were either relit or replaced the moment they burned out, round the clock. In the pre-noon hours before the rest of the band was awake, at Nathan’s signal, the mistletoe was hoisted over the living room hot tub with care.

This took several Klokateers to accomplish, as Nathan had decided that mistletoe, a parasite, would be much more badass if hung up while still attached to its uprooted host tree. He settled into the hot tub beneath it with a mug of spiked eggnog and waited. Charles always showed up whenever any member of Dethklok did something stupid; all he had to do was wait.

Charles entered the room about fifteen minutes later, which Nathan found kind of flattering. He walked in eyeing the suspended tree warily, as though it might fall at any moment, and only glanced down at the front man when he’d reached just a bit closer than minimum safe distance. “Good morning, Nathan. May I, ah, ask what you’re doing?”

Nathan shrugged, stretching both arms out to rest casually along the edge of the hot tub. “Hanging out.” His stomach was doing spins and somersaults, but he was determined to play it cool.

Charles’ mouth compressed into a thin line—not that Nathan was staring or anything. “Under a tree? Nathan, please. I know you wanted to have some creative control in the decorations this year, but this is very unsafe.”

“Nope.”

“. . . Excuse me?”

“I’m hanging out,” Nathan explained, “under a tree with mistletoe in it.” He waited a beat. “I’m under the mistletoe.”

At that predetermined signal, a listening Klokateer dimmed the living room lights down to a faint glow, accentuated by flickering candlelight that lit the edges of the cavernous room like low-hanging stars. There were no lower windows, but the upper ones were shuttered to add to the sense of ethereal gloom.

“Ah. . . .” Charles looked around, trying to determine why the light levels were changing, but the Klokateer had already ducked out per Nathan’s instructions. “What’s going on?”

Okay, here it was. Moment of truth. And hey, if it went badly he could always say, Wasn’t me, it was the mistletoe and retreat to his room to get over this crush which would surely be smashed to pieces by robot-like rejection.

Nathan rose from the hot tub, knowing that the candlelight made his wet skin shine like one of those jacked dudes on the cover of romance novels. He automatically sucked his stomach in a little. “I’m under the mistletoe,” he said again, and his face felt warm but hopefully in the dimness it was hard to tell. “So, uh. That means you have to kiss me.”

“Kiss. . . ?” Charles started. He trailed off as Nathan took the first step away from the hot tub, black swim trunks dripping softly on the stone floor.

It was only one more step to reach the man, and Nathan took it. Took him by the shoulders, getting chlorinated water all over Charles’ expensive suit, and pulled him close, all but yanking him into a very self-conscious kiss in which Nathan was totally overthinking what to do with his crappy thin lips, eyes closed in concentration.

His eyes flew open when he felt Charles grab onto his arms and, instead of pushing him away, held on with completely unexpected strength. It was Charles who took control and deepened the kiss, maneuvering expertly until Nathan’s eyes drifted closed again, forgetting to be self-conscious and just . . . kissing back.

Fuck. Who knew that Charles would be such a good kisser? Totally worth it.

“Wow,” Nathan breathed when the kiss ended, their mouths still hovering mere millimeters apart.

Charles cleared his throat, not moving away either. “I second that. This was, ah, not what I was expecting when I came in here, but, well.” His gaze shifted pointedly towards Nathan’s kiss-bruised lips. “I suppose this sheds a new light on why you were so interested in decorating this Christmas.”

Above them, the hanging tree creaked. They glanced up at it in unison.

“Would you, ah, like to continue this discussion in my office?”

“. . . Yeah,” Nathan said with a slow grin. “Yeah, let’s do that.” He followed Charles, grabbing a towel along the way to dry off with.

Fuck yeah, mistletoe. Worked like a charm.

#metalocalypse #12 days of dethmas #nathan/charles #nathan explosion #charles foster offdensen #metalocalypse fanfic

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 4 years

Note

Single Mom AU: (is hopefully completely different from the single father AU) Blake is a single mother that just got divorced from her abusive ex-husband, Adam. Her and her son move to the new town of Argus and they meet the owner of a local hole in the wall restaurant named Jaune.

Sure! It’s Blake’s turn to have some spotlight in an AU. This one can maybe focus more on Blake and her son rather than Jaune.

AU accepted!

Blake had done it. She was free from the monster. She’d wanted to leave him for over a year, but she’d been too afraid. That was until he struck their five year old son Kilo. For no reason other than SHE hadn’t been their for him to hit after he got angry…

She started the divorce process months ago, something Adam hadn’t been exactly happy about. Now it was finally over. Her and Kilo were now in Argus, far away from Adam now.

They were safe now.

…

And also broke.

…

While Adam may have been an abusive monster to them, he was also their only source of income. Blake was the stay at home mom for Kilo and Adam worked to support all of them.

She had managed to stow away quite a bit of funds after she first realized her wish to leave him. She was scared, but she wanted to be ready in case she ever got the chance to get her wish. Adam smugly signed the divorce papers, thinking that Blake would just come crawling back after she realized she didn’t have the money to support herself. Especially when she also had their kid, which is how she got full custody. He thought Blake was dependent on him both financially and mentally.

Well he was wrong. The same day Adam signed the papers, Blake grabbed Kilo, all their personal belongings that Blake could fit into two suit cases and a duffel bag, her stashed funds, and bought two tickets as far away as she could.

In hindsight, that was a very poor decision. Just the tickets almost depleted all of the money Blake had saved. Then she had to pay for a hotel room for a few days since she had no living plans and food to sneak into the hotel room to eat. They weren’t big meals, snacks more than anything, but they were better than nothing.

It had been three days now. Each day Blake went out to hunt for a job, Kilo having to go with her as she searched all around Argus. She couldn’t get one. Wherever she went, either they were not hiring, they were too far away, or she didn’t have the skills for the position.

She tried not to consider the thought that they turned her away because she was a faunus.

Either way, three days passed with no luck, and Kilo asked if they could go to the park instead of walk around again. Blake looked to her son and his pleading eyes. Her poor boy had been put through the ringer the last few days, he deserved a break. So Blake relented.

The went and spent the whole afternoon in the park. He played on the playground, climbed a tree (much to high for Blake’s liking), and they rested under a tree together while Blake read a story to him. It was only when the sun started to set that Blake realized how much time had passed. So she took her son’s little hand and started to head back to the hotel.

As they walked towards the front entrance to the hotel, they passed by a restaurant. Kilo tugged on her arm. “Hey Mommy! Mommy! Can we get some food please!?”

Blake looked to where her son was pointing. The restaurant was named Jaune’s. It didn’t look very expensive. However, Blake didn’t want to spend any more money than necessary. She looked down to tell her soon no, but her traitorous stomach growled. It wasn’t her fault the snacks she’d brought to the park weren’t very filling…

Regardless, Blake followed her son as excitedly ran towards the door to Jaune’s. As it was late, the place wasn’t very busy. It was also probably close to closing for them. Luckily for them it meant that they got a booth all to themselves.

Her son happily doodle away on his kids menu with the crayons that came with it. He asked their waitress very politely if he could have the crispy chicken fingers and fries. Blake ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, a grilled chicken sandwich with cheese, lettuce, and mayo. Blake also got a vanilla milkshake for the both of them, much to the joy of Kilo.

The meal was good. Great actually. It also helped that the food was relatively cheap, cheaper than what the delicious food could have been charged for. It cost nothing like the dinners that A-….Adam took them to…

They eat in relative silence, only talking briefly in between bites. Though they took their time, enjoying the peacefulness of the meal as the last of the patrons around them left, leaving them as the only customers left. When they were all done and the trays were taken away, Blake had to face the part of the dinner she was dreading. Paying the bill.

‘O-okay…. 22 Lien…..not that much at all… Maybe I just won’t leave a tip…. I don’t like it bu-…oh no…’ While Blake stared at the check, she had pulled out her wallet and opened it.

She didn’t have enough. The 20 Lien card she thought she had was actually a 10…she only had 15.

“K-Kilo sweetie, can you wait right here for a minute? Mommy will be right back okay?”

“Okay Mommy.”

Blake left her son sitting in their booth as she walked up to her waitress, a young blonde girl named Sara. “E-excuse me…I h-have a small problem.”

The kind girl looked at her with a smile. “What is it ma’am? Did you want something brought to your table. Or was something wrong with your meal?”

“N-no no. Nothing any of you did wrong. I-it’s just that I….don’t have enough money to pay for our meal…”

“The waitress’s smile faltered, but she kept it up, though it was much weaker. “O-oh. I-I’m not…uh sure what uhhhh…. I-I’ll go get my boss. Please,” She put a lot of emphasis on the please there, “Wait here.”

The girl quickly hurried to the back of the restaurant and disappeared as she walked into the kitchen. A minute later, she came back into the view. With her came a tall blonde man whose was taking off an apron. The waitress pointed to Blake from the kitchen doorway and the man said something to her before walking out of the kitchen and over to Blake nervously fidgeting form.

As he approached, Blake saw just how much taller than her he was, by almost a full foot! Though when he spoke, his voice wasn’t angry or annoyed. It was pleasant, if only a little curious. “Hello, I heard you had an issue with the check?”

“N-not with the check itself… I just don’t have enough Lien to cover it.”

“Oh. Well, how much was the check?”

“U-uhhh…22 Lien….I only have 15. I-I have more, b-back in our hotel room….but no wait, I need that to pay for the room! I-I can pay you back once I get a job, though I don’t know w-when that’ll be. I’ll pay you back I promise, j-just p-p-”

The man’s eyes widen as he watched as the woman in front of him started to breathe heavily and frantically while she rambled on. It even looked like tears were about to start falling.

“I’ll pay you back I promise, j-just p-p-please don’t call the police. I-I’ll-” A hand on her shoulder snapped the brunette faunus down out of her panic.

She noticed the tall man looking down to meet her eyes. “Woah woah woah. Please calm down ma’am.”

Blake took a shaky breath and rubbed the build up of tears from her eyes. “I’m s-sorry. I’ve never done this before. I’m not doing this on purpose I swear!”

“And I believe you. Unless you just one heck of an actress, no one would be this upset over being 7 Lien short on a check. Something tells me that more to this….so I’ll make you a deal.”

“A….a deal?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t make sense to call the cops over 7 Lien, so I won’t. I’ll cover the bill for you, but only if you tell me what’s got you so upset.”

Blake blinked at the man “W-what? Why?”

“Why cover the tab or why do I want to know why you’re upset? For the first one it’s only 7 Lien and for the second, I don’t like seeing people upset, especially in here. This is a place where people come to have good food, chat with friends, and to forget about their troubles for a little bit. So, do we have a deal?”

Blake glanced back over to her son in the booth. He’d gotten up to moved to the other side where she’d but her belongings on the bench and had pulled out the book from earlier and started flipping through it without a care in the world. She wasn’t sure she should be so trusting of this stranger, but he seemed to be very kind and understanding. The air he carried around him seemed, almost comforting...

She looked back to the tall man and nodded. “Yes. Thank you. Can we do it over there so my son isn’t left alone?”

He smiled warmly and nodded himself. “Of course. By the way, Sara said he was a really polite boy too.”

“O-oh...thank you.”

Blake walked with the man back over to the booth. Kilo kept looking at his book even as she slid into the booth. He definitely was her son. “Kilo?”

He finally looked back up, looking slightly surprised that she returned, and definitely surprised to see the new man stand at the end of their table. “Yes Mommy?”

She gestured to the tall blonde man. “This is.....ummm I’m sorry sir, but I don’t even know your name.”

The tall man blinked owlishly at her, then he started to chuckle nervously and scratched the back of his head, a light dusting of red spread across his cheeks and nose. “Oh haha, yeah I guess I never told you my name huh? Hehe.” He dropped the hand from his neck and offered his other one out to her. “M-my name is Jaune Arc, short, sweet, rolls of the tongue, the ladies love it.”

#rwby #blake belladonna #jaune arc #jaune x blake #knightshade #single mom blake au #au suggestion #ask #sfw #anonymous

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moonknightly · 4 years

Text

Sinking Down Into My Thoughts : Poe Dameron x Reader

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Excerpt: “He couldn’t take the ghosts in his lungs and the skeletons in his closet. He couldn’t stand the taste of war anymore, so permanent on his tongue. The battles stitched across the skin of his back. All of the times he had failed.”

Warnings: Uhhh this one is sad af. Suicidal thoughts, mentions of death and loss. Sad.

At first it had been easy.

Poe was familiar with loss. He had been so young when he experienced it for the first time — with his parents, when they had so valiantly risked their lives to hopefully better his. Years he would never get back. Time. Time that was cut even shorter when Death had come for his mother. He had been only eight. Just a small boy, a boy too young to understand what had been taken, ripped right out from under him. Too young to understand why daddy was crying, and why mommy wasn’t there to tuck him in at night, to stop his own tears from flowing down red cheeks.

But he supposed he should be thankful, in some twisted sense of the word. Because that experience had numbed him, helped to dull the sting of loss when it struck. Death, loss, mourning — it was unavoidable, especially in a life riddled with war. It was easy because it was unavoidable.

But then suddenly, it was. It was all so completely avoidable. Suddenly Poe realized there was so much he could have done, so much he could have changed. So many lives he could have saved if he had only tried just a little harder. If he hadn’t been so selfish. If he had sacrificed himself.

And he was disgusted with himself, because he often used death, the loss of life to inspire others. Used it as an example. Talked about it like it was some beautiful sacrifice and not a terrible tragedy.

All that blood — it was never once beautiful. It was only ever red. He took it and he turned it into something beautiful, something romanticized so people would take chances, so they wouldn’t be afraid.

He couldn’t do that with you.

He hadn’t been able to say anything about your death at all.

It had been the one that had made him realize that he was so completely fucking selfish, that death wasn’t something to sentimentalize. Because fuck, it had hurt so fucking badly. It had stabbed him through the heart, and now he would have to die twice because you had gone first.

And he hated himself even more because he hadn’t felt a damn thing. It wasn’t like all of the stories, where you get that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, when you just know that something so terrible has happened to the person you love. It wasn’t like that at all. He felt nothing. Shouldn’t he have felt something?

And for that reason, part of him wondered if you really were gone. Part of him wondered if BB-8 had simply been wrong. Maybe he missed something. He wondered if maybe the small droid had blown a fuse in the landing, broken a sensor, something, anything. How many times had Poe crashed a ship and still managed to walk away with his life? There had to be a chance. Hope.

But his beloved droid, the only thing he had left, promised that he had been so completely thorough in checking the wreckage. That you weren’t there. There was nowhere else for you to be. It had been a week now, and Poe had spent every single night laying in the grass just outside of the hangar, waiting for you.

You never came.

He couldn’t stay on base.

He was driving himself mad. Everywhere he looked, he saw you, felt you. It was all too much. Poe hadn’t even been able to bring himself to sleep in the bed you once shared, hadn’t been able to bring himself to look towards the spot where your X-Wing should have been parked — the spot right next to his. He hadn’t been able to say your name, though it was still ringing in his ear, your voice was still in his head, and he just wanted it to stop.

It wouldn’t fucking stop.

He had been flying with no particular destination in mind, though still on Ajan Kloss, for over ten hours now, hoping to clear his mind. But his thoughts — they were all you. All he could think about was you and your laugh and the way that you smelled and how you couldn’t get through the mornings without your caf, and how you ran your fingers through his hair on the nights he couldn’t sleep, and how you would sneak up behind him in the command center and wrap your arms around his waist.

How he didn’t believe in a Heaven, but he had been picturing you there, because Maker, he wanted you to be there, waiting for him even though he fucking knew he didn’t have a chance at getting in himself.

How he had lost and lost and lost, but he never imagined that he could lose you, but your life proved to be just as fleeting as everyone else’s.

Just as fleeting as his could be.

Poe wanted to crash his X-Wing. He wanted it to be over. He had even closed his eyes for several minutes at a time, just hoping to crash into something, and he was growing frustrated because every single time he felt himself getting just a little too close to the ground or any other object, he pulled back. He couldn’t fucking do it.

He was so, so weak.

He wanted to do it. He deserved to do it. But he couldn’t fucking bring himself to because your voice grew even louder each time he came close, telling him not to, begging him not to. And stars, he would always listen to you. Always did before.

But he just couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take the ghosts in his lungs and the skeletons in his closet. He couldn’t stand the taste of war anymore, so permanent on his tongue. The battles stitched across the skin of his back. All of the times he had failed. How he had failed you.

Poe was losing his mind.

And he was even more sure that he was losing his mind when he heard BB-8 frantically rush out that he had someone from base trying to come through his comlink, your call sign attached.

“Buddy, that’s Y/N’s. You know that.”

More frantic beeping that translated into two simple words — “I know.”

Poe’s stomach sank. He really did have a loose wire, a missing bolt, he wouldn’t make such a monumental mistake otherwise. BB-8 didn’t make mistakes.

“Beebee, this isn’t funny.”

The droid made a noise that sounded almost like a huff. “Just trust me.”

Poe grit his teeth, wanting to slam his head into the controls if he were being quite honest. But regardless, he flipped on the speaker of his coms, staying quiet, merely listening.

He heard some muffled talking, but he couldn’t really make out any particular voice or what they were saying. It had to have been a mistake, someone resetting something. Someone playing a sick joke, trying to mess with him. He shook his head, letting it hit the back of his seat with a small thump and a heavy sigh. He was just about to flip it off, already angling himself towards the ground again when a voice broke through the static.

“You know, I was kind of hoping that you’d be here waiting for me Dameron.”

He pulled up suddenly, causing the ship to jerk wildly for just a moment, his eyes widening and the air completely leaving his lungs as if he had been kicked in the chest.

“Y/N?”

“Hi flyboy.”

Poe couldn’t speak. Completely lost the ability to. His head was spinning wildly and he felt like he was going to be sick. This couldn’t actually be happening. How could this be happening? BB-8 had been so sure.

“You still with me Poe?”

He swallowed the lump that was threatening to rise in his throat.

“I’m losing my damn mind.”

You laughed. You laughed and Poe’s stomach flipped because he thought he would never get to hear that beautiful, angelic sound ever again.

He swallowed again. He didn’t want to start crying, not then. He would save his tears for later that night, once he had you back in his arms and in the comfort of your shared quarters, once he was positive that this wasn’t his mind playing some cruel trick.

“How?”

His voice was nothing more than a broken whisper, and he hated how it sounded in his ears. It didn’t sound like him at all.

“I got thrown,” you sighed, and Poe felt his heart clench just a little bit. He remembered when he had crashed that TIE back on Jakku, how hurt and scared and dehydrated he had been before finding help.

Hurt and scared and dehydrated was better than dead though.

It was definitely better than dead.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a little banged up, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

Poe thought about her question, but his mind was jumping all over the place, still in shock, still not truly believing that she was really sitting back at base, talking to him. That her voice really was in his ear and not just some hallucination in his head.

“I don’t know.”

His words were truthful. He wasn’t lying. He really didn’t know.

“Come back to me baby. Come home.”

Why did he feel like he couldn’t?

“I’ve failed.”

“You haven’t failed baby.”

“I almost lost you.”

“I’m right here.”

“I can’t do this.”

Shouldn’t he have been happy? Shouldn’t he have felt something? Why was he still numb?

“Let me help you.”

He sobbed, the sound strangled, tearing through his throat so violently it burned his vocal chords.

He didn’t deserve it. Poe didn’t deserve anything from anyone. He didn’t deserve help, he didn’t deserve you, he didn’t deserve to live.

He deserved to lose.

“I need you, Poe Dameron. I need you.”

He stopped, his heart clenching in his chest — there it was, the feeling. Emotion. Something.

“Say it again.”

“I need you.”

Another tug.

You needed him. You needed him and you did deserve everything from everyone. You deserved all of the love and affection and every little thing you could ever possibly dream of. You deserved it all. You deserved better than him.

But he was selfish. He wanted to be selfish.

You needed him.

He needed you.

You didn’t deserve to lose.

He did, he still thought that he deserved to lose everything. But he couldn’t lose you, not again.

And he couldn’t let you lose him.

It had become so apparent that losing each other would only ever be red. It would never be beautiful, he could never make it beautiful.

Loss, death, all of that blood spilled in war — it was only ever red.

And Poe Dameron would do everything in his power to try and avoid it.

He’d come home. He’d see you in just a little while, and he would cry, just like he told himself he would, but he would also let himself get lost in loving you, the most beautiful thing that he could make.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #tros #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron imagine #star wars

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icharchivist · 3 years

Note

hello icha!! i finally got around to finishing the stranger haha,, by which i mean i just watched it today. was veryyyy excited for it as i really like the poster design for this one. anyways. this event starting w/ the sort of portrait format or whatever / that narration is like. god. threw me right back to autumn troupe. I kind of love that the storytelling format itself is so distinct for autumn! the moment I realized it was omi I started getting teary… like oh man oh man… omi…. And the connection with him taking photos! ahh!! now that I think about it… omi kind of seems a bit like early version tsumugi, huh? also I keep forgetting this man is a college student lol. suspension of disbelief I suppose. onto the play i think like. mankai should invest in a fainting courch for tsuzuru. i also went to watch the play and 1) im betting yuki had a hell of a time costume design wise like the vines on the body? such fun costuming wise and 2) the ethical implications of whatever this play has,,, fun fun. tsuzuru was clearly having some kind of thoughts. i love zeros design and am always up for a3 characters crossdressing bc 1) i think its fun and 2) the costume design. i also dearly wish this whole thing was animated bc I feel like it’d be o fun to see taichi act as zero. or at least I hope this event gets full voiced one day... moving on to the scene where omi adds soy sauce to the paella I know it’s just like haha homare funny so lets five him a lil bit but like everyone in autumn troupe making their comments on the paella and like homare just jumping in. homare autumn troupe besties. just thinking. also the way they just r like. no no no omi it’s fine if u made a mistake!! it’s ok! we like it (you) anyways <3 it’s got it’s own special taste. something something omi’s perfectly pleasant as he is now but even if he weren’t on his a-game and was dealing with all of the biker gang stuff they would love him just as hard. another thing that got me was omi telling banri that he’ll give him something sweet so juza will stop grinding his teeth in his sleep… guys… guys you’ll give him cavities…. mb omi is a college student after all lol.

anyways when i saw the actual costumes. appreciative of them, i like the lil circuit-esque detailing on banri’s outfit, and that sakyo and taichi (nine and zero) both share that like collar detail? its very symbolic and probably also literal but its a nice way to sort of signify their relation to each other visually! also sakyo just looks nice. seeing him without glasses is so great. whoever thought up the like two mole detail for him was doing gods work.

something that confused me was ryo mistaking juza for nachi for a split second? like. does juza… look similar to nachi? or was it just that ryo only heard juzas voice and made that mistake. if it’s appearance wise too. kumon nachi confirmed. I’m joking lol bc I feel like I would’ve heard at least something abt it in one of the like small conversation comments, plus that doesnt seem like itd fit summer troupes style and kumon is for sure the wrong age… but still.

i really like how for this event, the roles for taichi and omi were kinda reversed. and taichis just so like. idk. smiley. rly lifts ur spirits. its kind of nice how this event contrasts to that cg where taichi is crying on omi. I also think like. idk. considering the story of the stranger. wolf gives zero a sense of purpose and life and I think that zero helps wolf lose his apathy. it’s about “the stranger” and the ending makes him like… not a stranger, right? because he’s got a companion. in the same way, taichi brings omi out of his emotional isolation. the picture taking! also the stickers coming back… thats such a good setup! the found family of it all!!

when he was trying to work out zeros character as soon as taichi mentioned a sharp speaking style I KNEW it was Yuki… yuki would never be as honest as zero is though lol… to me i imagine she’s got a sort of juza internal monologue feel? anyways. the taichi yuki dynamic intrigues me. havent yet decided how I feel abt it but when I do… yes. sorry that I make literally no sense. I think it’s very obvious that yuki is my fav chara kind of? I’m just. hmmm it makes me think! I’ve been monologuing to myself abt the yuki and juza dynamic lately which, to my a3 knowledge so far, doesn’t exist, but its ok bc I’ll make it exist! uhhh anyways this event was very good i liked the pacing. i think it didnt drag too hard and it really properly honed in on just omi and taichi, which was quite nice. they really did a lot for just an event!

time to listen to the event song,,, ok so. ah. i rly enjoyed just for myself it was very much to my taste so. out of curiousity i was like ok lemme look up the composer / producer AND IT WAS YUYOYUPPE....... that guy is like!!!! one of my FAV producers ever!!!!!! i know him from like. his vocaloid days and god leia is still one of my fav songs to this day...! this knowledge gives me so much joy omg!!! like wow!! wowwww!!! like i knew yuyoyuppe was out there doing other stuff (i know he worked on a lot of babymetal music which is cool) but like idk. to suddenly encounter it like this. heheh.... its so nice! made me soooo happy. going to relisten to leia now haha

WAIT ONE MORE THING. i was like "haha let me look at other songs i remember liking a lot" which. for me was rakuen oasis and don't cry. anyways. rakuen oasis is ALSO by yuyoyuppe???? oh my god!!! oh my god... sigh. feel like im in heaven.

OH HI FRIEND!! so good to see you with an a3 update!! :D

godd yeah The Stranger started so strongly and the idea to still incorporate portraits in his story was really something to make us cry!

And linking Omi and Tsumugi like this is pretty interesting :O <hat is your reasoning exactly? :O

For the fainting couch for Tsuzuru LMAO and i'm letting you know there's a webcomics that addresses it in Act 2 (hough there's no spoilers aside from the fact Chikage is here)

Im glad you liked the costume and the play!!! yeah i love the designs and it is always a blast to see them this into it, and yeaaah Tsuzuru has thoughts huh. It'll get voiced sooner than later hopefully and there we'll see more in details :3c but also that's what made the seiyuu live so fun bc they perform the songs in play cosplay and replay a bit of the play everytime and it's *chief kiss*

HOMARE AUTUMN TROUPE SOLIDARITY YES. LOVING IT.

And yeah the scene itself was so cute TwT they all want to reassure Omi and be there for him it's so sweet :( but yeah i love how you say it all, Omiimi TwT

and dLKFJDFLKJFDFD Giving Juza cavities is the price to pay for sleep i guess??

yeah agreed on the costume they all look so cool! and nice catch on how those three seem linked like that with their costumes, Yuki (and the designers) does such a good job! and god yeah for Sakyo.. yeah. He has sucha good design dLKJFDF

aND DLKFJD yeah no Juza is supposed to look like Nachi physically, but mostly his face? like i think Nachi was had green hair? we see a sprite of him in a future story, and yeah, everything is in the eyebrows. so Kumon should be safe? Omi mentions he sees a lot of Nachi in Juza, and while it is mostly due to their passions i think, the fact they're also rough looking guy with a heart of gold must play a part as well. but yeah, he does look like Nachi a bit.

and i love your deeper analysis of the event yeah!!

I feel like Taichi is really an emotional core of the troupe in the sense that is, he tends to catch on what others are feelings easily. And he uses it in the early chapters to ease off the tensions and stuff, but he was being held back by knowing he was deceiving them. So now that he's more free, he can be more of himself. but yeah i also love the contrast with how Omi was the one to help Taichi through his breakdown and guilt, and now it's the other way around, it's Taichi helping him through it. and the parallelism between the play and their dynamic is spot on imo! well said!!

and god yeah the sticker things made me cry sO HARD, and the pictures! and everything!! sobs it's such a sweet found family i'm going to cry :(

And! i love what you say about Yuki, Taichi and Juza on this one. I love that Taichi keeps bringing it back to "that childhood friend" and it's always like. so obvious who it is for us rip. But it can make you wonder if Yuki was more honest as a kiddo when Taichi knew him, though now he's clearly not. I love the mention of how Zero is more like Juza's internal speech (which, if anything is another argument about why you should let Juza wear a dress, cOWARD)

but also your mention of the Yuki and Juza thing, while i can't think of them having a dynamic per se yet, but i actually wrote a post during my reread about how i was baffled at the fact they treated Muku the same way?? like both of them tried to push Muku away because they were scared of how people would react if they say pure, sweet Muku was associated to them. And i find it fascinating because i guess those two are pretty aware of how the world see them, and it used to stop them from fully allowing them to be themselves.

I also find it relevant with the fact Yuki says in his personal song that while all of this way people judge him weight on him, he rather be himself, and "I want to love myself". Meanwhile we have Juza who's also aware of the way people judge him and it weight on him, and he wants to change himself from this person he hates, this self loathing - and in a way, he can grow in a way to be "someone" he may not hate, even on stage. I feel like those two have quite a bit in common in this way of being rejected by their peers in some sort of way.

I really want them to share some stuff at some point because there's really a groundwork on it all :(

But i'm really glad you liked that event!! agreed on the pacing and i do love what it brings to the characters! it really fleshes them out and have them move forward a little and it's pretty sweet.

AND OMG THAT'S SO COOL FOR THE SONG!! i'm so glad you liked it, but that's incredible it turned out to be from one of your fav producer!!! ahah sometimes life is like that where you end up finding the stuff you loved back into new stuff! and the fact Rakuen Oasis was from him as well... that's so cool!!! just, so so cool!

im pretty sure he has more songs going forward so i hope you'll enjoy the ride even more!!

thank you once again for sharing your thoughts about a3 :3c it always makes me so happy to see them!!!

Thank youu <3 have a good day :3c

#ichareply #ichafantalks a3 #sonnets of beauty #long post for ts

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pieces-by-me · 4 years

Text

Treat her Right

Words: 1424

Warning: mention of panic attacks but other than that just pure fluff

Summary: Lydia confronts Stiels and your ‘relationship’ and Stiles might spill more than just white lies.

Well, right about now you really were stuck. You should have thought better about your choices, because if you had you wouldn't be hiding in the closet of your dear friend Stiles.

Why were you hiding? Because your sweet idiot of a sister decided to make a surprise visit to the Stillinski household. On a normal day that wouldn't be a problem, but the fact is you were just making out with your “just friend”. And both you and Stiles really haven't planed it. Sure you both had feelings for one another but nether of you ever said anything to each other about it. So in the fits of panic and shirts pulling back in the original place you looked at each other terrified. Stiles jumped up from the bed and to his desk chair to create the allusion of doing homework. And with no other choice, well at least in your head, you scrambled into his closet. Not a minute later Lydia waltzed in.

“So I need your help with something.” Were her words as she made herself comfortable on his bed. “Uhhh right now?” Stiles answer was not that great. She looked at him questioning. ”Yes right now. Otherwise I wouldn't be here.”

“Yeah right. That makes sense. Soooo what is it that you would need my help. Even through we both know that you are way smarter than me so it can't be homework.” He was so cute when he was rambling. A little bit of an idiot but still very cute.

“I need your help with Y/N” Neither you nor Stiles were prepared for that one. Stiles eyes flickered to the closet door for a second “Y/N? Why with her?”

“Because I think she is hiding something from me. And we both know that you tell each other everything. I don't really want to pry but I am catching her lying to me more and more.”

You closed your eyes and your stomach filled with guilt. She was right. You were lying more often to her. Before you could drown even more in guilt she continued talking. “So I'm asking you once because I have my suspicion about why she is lying.” She stood from the bed and took a step closer tp Stiles. His head was growing red. 'Oh I am so screwed' “What is going on between you and my sister.” It wasn't really a question. More so a demand for the truth. “Me and Y/N? Nothings going on with me and her you know we are ...” “ Stiles! Please don't play dumb with me. She wont't tell me anything or that you are good friends and I know that that is just a load of crap. So please tell me the truth.” You couldn't see her but her eyes were pleading with him. Lydia knew that there was something more. That you had some feelings for this boy and she did't really understand why you would come up with excuses or lies. Maybe because of the teasing you had to face from her on a daily basis or the fear of being “officially something” and that it would just turn into a disaster. Because you lived in Beacon Hills, everything goes downhill at some point.

“OK you want the truth?” Stiles answer had you holding your breath. 'Please don't say anything. Please don't say anything Stiles'

“We kissed.” Before he could elaborate more Lydia interfered “Oh my god I KNEW it.”

“Last year. When you were in the hospital after Peter bit you.” That was not the answer she expected. “What?” “Yeah I brought her home after you took off into the woods. She was devastated. She was so worried about you and what would happen to you. I mean she didn't know about all this Supernatural crap either. So I tried to distract her. But she was starting to hyperventilate from all her overthinking. I thought she was having a panic attack and my dad always says to hold my breath when I have one so I hoped it would help her. I kissed her and she held her breath.”

You remembered that day like it was yesterday. How gentle he held your head. How his thumb would wipe the tears form your cheeks. How he looked into your eyes afterwards to make sure you were breathing normally. Your heart swell because from that moment on you knew Stiles would always be there for you. And even though it was under shitty circumstances your first kiss was special. From that moment on your feelings for the plaid clothed boy grew over time more and more. Lydia sank on his bed and it was silent for a while.

“She never told me that. I mean I knew she had some panic attacks after you guys told us about the Supernatural but I never knew she had one before that.”

His eyes looked to his closet again. This time they stayed there. “I think she didn't want to worry you. She rarely takes care of herself. Always making sure everyone of us is save and healthy before she even thinks about herself. My guess is that she saw how hard all of it hit you and took a step back.”

“But she was going through the same thing.”

“Didn't matter. You always come first in her book.”

Lydia and you both smiled at that. Because it was true. “Lydia... I really like Y/N.” Your heart stopped. You weren't talking to each other about you feelings. Sure you would kiss here and there but you were afraid that if you said anything it would break apart and you would loose your friend.

“Like really like her. And I know that there has to be something she is feeling for me as well. But we both know her and we know that she only comes out of her shell when she is absolutely certain about something. Her feelings included. So give her time. She is probably just afraid of what could happen. And with time she will tell you anything. And hopefully me as well”

His last sentence got a quiet laugh out of your sister. She looked at him and could see that everything he said was true. There was a gleam in his eyes that held absolute adoration while he was talking about you.

“You're right Stilinski. I really hope she will come out of the closet and tell us both what's going on in her head.”

Stiles had to hold in his laugh at the word closet. If Lydia only knew that you were literally in a closet right now. Lydia made her way downstairs and Stiles brought her to the door. Her next words were to far away for you to hear.

”You have my blessing by the way.”

“Huh what blessing?” Stiles didn't quite catch Lydia.

”You and Y/N. I know that you are good for each other. And I only want whats best for my little sister. So you have my blessing.” When she was trough the door she turned around one more time and looked very serious. “You better treat her right.” It was sort of a warning. And you never underestimate a warning from a Banshee.

When Stiles came back to his room you sat on his bed.

“Ok I will come out of the closet. And I know that I take ages to make up my mind about something and than another century to tell anyone but.... I really like you too and I'm happy that we are so close but I'm also afraid that things will change dramatically and then I would loose you and I simply can't...” Stiles stopped your rambling with a simple kiss. A small humming sound was a sign that you were grateful for his interference.

“I know. And I'm also kind of scared. But we will take one day at a time and see where this goes.” He took your hand in his and brushed your knuckles with his fingers.

You send him a shy smile and in his eyes you saw nothing but honesty. You would figure this out. You always do. So you made the decision to come clean with Lydia. When you went home today you would tell her everything. She would smirk a little but that was ok.

“One day at a time” You repeated his words and leaned into his touch with a smile on both your faces.

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wold x reader #stiles #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles imagine #stiles x reader #imagine #imagines #my work

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gryffindorcls · 4 years

Text

Meant To Be: Chapter 7 (Reveal)

IT’S DAY SEVEN OF LOVESQUARE FLUFF WEEK 2020!!!

(I KNOW IT’S NOT. I KNOW IT’S SUPER LATE, BUT HEY! IT’S DONE! *cries tears of joy*)

Thank you @lovesquarefluffweek for organizing this event!

Welcome back! Today’s prompt is “Reveal”.

Enjoy the last chapter!

—

BEGINNING

<— Previous

AO3

FanFiction

Chapter 7: Reveal

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell him tonight.” Marinette slammed her head onto the desk. “Waiting a few days wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“Oh, you’re telling him tonight.” Tikki crossed her arms.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to know who I am anymore? What if he gets angry when I bring it up? What if…”

The Kwami cut her off. “Stop saying such silly things! You know that Chat Noir wants to know who you are.”

She picked up her head and looked at Tikki. “But what if he changed his mind.”

“You’re joking, right? He wrote a song for you, and then he played it on the piano. TWICE.”

“I’m just having second thoughts.”

Tikki rubbed her paws against her head. “Marinette, I’m going to say this once, so listen closely. Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Tikki, I’m listening.”

“Your identities were only supposed to remain a secret until you and your partner learned to trust each other. The two of you are the best holders that Plagg and I have ever had. You and Chat have an incredible partnership, and it’s time to tell him who you are.”

“It is?”

“Yes. That, and Plagg and I are being driven insane by you two.”

“But Master Fu told us that we had to keep our identities hidden from each other.”

“Master Fu was a wise man, but he also lived his life in fear. He was constantly running from something. My holders have always learned the identities of their partners at some point. It’s part of the natural progression of your relationship with each other.”

“But there are so many things that could go wrong.”

“And there are even more things that could go wrong if you two don’t know the truth. Remember, I’ve been around a lot longer than Master Fu, and I've seen this all before. Also, you’re the Guardian now. You need this. He needs this. We all need this. Please tell him.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I am, and trust me, everything will make sense after tonight.”

“I hope so,” Marinette sighed.

Her kwami nuzzled her cheek. “I know with one hundred percent certainty that tonight will be one of the happiest nights of your life.”

“Okay, I trust you, Tikki.”

“Thank you. Now, tell me, what time are you meeting him tonight?”

“Nine o’clock at our usual spot. That gives me one hour to get ready.” Marinette hopped out of her chair and ran to her closet. “I was thinking of wearing my pink polka dot dress, but if we’re going to be on a roof, I don’t want to be cold when I detransform.”

“You could always wear a sweater,” Tikki suggested, “Or you could just use Chat Noir’s warmth.”

“Tikki!”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m shocked. I thought you were supposed to be the good one!”

“Plagg may be more chaotic than I am, but I can’t help it! It’s been so long since I’ve seen our holders in love. Can you blame me?”

Marinette shook her head. “No, tonight is not about love. It’s about revealing our identities. That’s it.”

“Mmmhmm,” Tikki smirked, “Sure. Whatever you say.”

“It’s true! I don’t have the energy to deal with love right now. Once I know who Chat is, then I can take a few days and maybe figure out this whole thing with him and Adrien.”

“I still think you’ll take one look at civilian Chat and tell me that I was right.”

“And you would know that because you know who he is.”

“Yup.”

She paused and bit her lip. “Can I ask you something about him?”

Her Kwami nodded. “As long as it’s not his name, sure.”

“Is he just as cute under the mask as he is with it on?”

“That’s for you to find out.”

“Oh, no! That means he is!” Marinette rushed over to her vanity and pulled out her hair ties. “I should do something with my hair, and a sweater would be cute, right? And maybe I should put on some lip gloss? Help! What should I do?”

Tikki giggled. “You do realize that he’ll think you’re beautiful even if you’re wearing a brown paper bag, right?”

“I know, but this is the first time he’s seeing me without the mask.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Okay, true, but this is the first time he’s seeing me while knowing that I’m Ladybug.”

“Go get ready! You’re going to be late if you spend all your time talking to me about it.”

“Oh, my God! You’re right!”

Throwing open the drawer, she pulled out a curling wand, plugged it in, waited for it to heat up, and began styling her hair. When she was satisfied with the outcome, she ran to her closet and dug out a white sweater.

“You only have five minutes left until nine o’clock.” Tikki landed on her shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”

Marinette gave herself a once over in the mirror and nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready. I can do this.”

“Yes, you can!”

“Tikki, SPOTS ON!”

She closed her eyes and allowed the bright pink magic to wash over her. When her eyes reopened, Ladybug smiled back at her in the mirror. Her hair was once again in pigtails, but the thought of Chat Noir seeing her as Marinette filled her with bubbling excitement and a calming wave of confidence.

She was ready. Hopefully, Chat would be ready, as well.

As she reached for her yo-yo, it chimed. Ladybug flipped open the device and read the message on the screen.

CN: Could you meet me at the gazebo instead of our usual spot? I have something I need to show you

Her heart thumped against her chest.

Seeing his words sent a flurry of thoughts racing through her mind. “Is it another song? Did he find something? Why the gazebo? Does he want to tell me that he still loves me? NO. Tonight is not about love.”

She took a deep breath, composed a reply, and hit send.

LB: Sure. Is everything okay?

His response came only seconds later.

CN: Yes, I’m fine. I just need to talk to you. See you soon.

Her heart thumped again.

LB: Be there in a few.

Ladybug closed the communicator, climbed onto her bed, lifted herself onto her balcony, and swung across the rooftops. In less than a minute, she landed in the middle of the park.

Unlike the previous two nights, there were no decorations or lights. After helping her parents cater the wedding, she’d watched as the workers cleaned up the venue. The space now felt cold and lifeless.

“You came.” Chat’s voice filled her with warmth.

She walked towards the gazebo. “You asked me to come.”

“Wait!” he shouted, causing her to stop in her tracks, “Don’t come any closer.”

“Why? What’s going on? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, but I need to say something before you see me.”

“See you? Chaton, I see you all the time. What happened?”

“I had a dream, or I guess it was a dream? Maybe it was real, or maybe it was my brain trying to tell me something. I don’t know what happened, but when I woke up, everything was different. I don’t even know how to start. I’m messing all of this up.” She heard him groan and sigh.

Through the darkness, Ladybug could feel the frustration radiating off of him. While she didn’t know what was wrong, she was willing to do anything to make him feel better. She was ready to detransform without warning, run to him, hold him, and tell him that everything was okay. She wanted him to know that she was going to be there for him no matter the circumstances.

“Chat Noir, please let me come over,” Ladybug pleaded, “I have something I need to say to you, as well. I think it will make everything better, and it’ll help us get through whatever this is...together.”

His response came without hesitation. “No, not yet. I just need a few minutes.”

“Then, will you at least tell me what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

“Agghhh!” he screamed, “I really am messing this up!”

Worry began to settle in her gut. “What’s going on, Chat?”

“I’m so sorry. Here I am, trying to make this romantic, and I wind up freaking you out. Nothing is wrong, my lady. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Did you say romantic?”

“Yeah, I..I...you see, I’m…”

“He’s trying to tell you that he loves you,” a gravelly voice chimed in, cutting him off.

“Plagg!” Chat said through gritted teeth.

“You love me?” Her heart pounded against her chest.

“Yes, I always have,” he said quickly before scolding his Kwami, “Don’t make me regret bringing you with me.”

“Oh, and how exactly would you have gotten here on your own?”

“I could have walked.”

Ladybug’s feet may have been planted on the ground, but she was soaring far above the city. A flurry of thoughts bombarded her consciousness as she desperately searched for a way to land.

“He loves me,” her mind sang, “He still loves me. He always has. Even Plagg…”

Her newest realization sent her crashing back to earth.

“Wait.” She paused before continuing. “Plagg?”

With a smug grin plastered across his face, the Kwami emerged from the shadows and hovered in front of her face. “Hey, Ladybug. Long time, no see.”

“But if you’re here…” She could almost hear the cogs turning in her mind. “Chat, you’re not transformed.”

“Uhhh, no, I am not,” he replied with a nervous chuckle.

“But you just sent me a message on the communicator.”

“I detransformed the second you said you were on your way.”

“Someone could have seen you!”

“Nah, there’s no one here. I checked three times, but if it makes you feel any better, I was hiding in a bush.”

“And how long have you been doing that?”

“We’ve been in this park for hours,” Plagg groaned, “The second those workers left, he started setting everything up. I’m begging you. Please just get this over with so we can all move on and so I can see Tikki.”

“Can one of you please tell me what’s going on?” She turned towards where she assumed her partner was standing in the darkened gazebo. “What have you been setting up?”

“Something for you,” he whispered.

“And it took you hours?”

“I wanted to do this right.”

“And you’re really in love with me?”

“Yes, I’m in love with every single part of you, Marinette.”

“Oh, Chat, I…” Her brain replayed his previous statement. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

“I know who you are, my lady.” She could hear the happiness in his voice. “And if you would like, I’m ready to tell you who I am, as well.”

His unseen smile was contagious. Her cheeks began to ache from the unbridled joy that coursed through her veins and showed on her face.

“Please let me see you,” she begged for the second time, “I came here tonight to tell you who I was, but you already know. Why are you still standing in the dark?”

“Because he’s a hopeless romantic,” Plagg scoffed.

He laughed. “It’s true. I am, but I’m not feeling quite so hopeless anymore.”

Ladybug shielded her eyes as the space around her was filled with light. When her eyes finally adjusted to the change, she was met with a beaming Adrien Agreste wearing a wine red button-up shirt and black slacks. The gazebo was adorned with thousands of twinkling lights and dozens of pink roses.

“Adrien,” she breathed.

“Marinette,” he said reverently, “My beautiful lady.”

All at once, everything made sense. Until now, her heart had been broken into two, the pieces divided between two loves, but seeing Adrien stand in Chat Noir’s place filled in the cracks. The war that raged inside her had ended, and all of the confusion finally melted away.

It felt familiar.

It felt safe.

It felt right.

At a loss for words, Ladybug took a tentative step towards the gazebo. “The lights you put up...they look like stars. They’re so beautiful and bright.”

“And yet no light compares to how brightly you shine, my lady. You illuminate every inch of the darkness.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm.

“You’re such a flirt,” she said teasingly, biting her lip.

“Is that okay?” Adrien looked away. “I know you weren’t very comfortable with it in the past.”

“Things are different. If we're being honest, past me is definitely kicking herself right now.”

“I know the feeling.”

“I have so many questions.”

“And I’d be happy to answer them. We have all the time in the world.”

“Okay,” she laughed, “Well, first, is this really happening?”

He walked towards her and took her hands in his own. “Yes.”

“So, I’m not dreaming that the two boys I fell in love with are actually the same person?”

“No, but you were definitely in my dreams last night.”

“What?”

“That’s how I figured it out.”

She cocked her head to the side. “From a dream?”

He nodded. “I think my mind put it together for me. I don’t know how to explain it. It was like the universe was screaming the answer to all my questions. For a moment, I was in a different world. All I know is that when I woke up, I knew that Marinette was Ladybug and Ladybug was Marinette. The two girls who hold my heart had become one, and all was right with the world.”

Ladybug took a moment to absorb his words and suddenly felt the urge to feel his hands without the suit in the way. She knew it was time to break down all the barriers that stood between them.

“Spots off,” she whispered, giving Adrien’s hands a gentle squeeze.

When the bright light had faded, Marinette immediately felt his warmth on her palms. Not wanting the moment to end, she leaned in, and he followed in suit. Adrien rested his forehead against hers, and they both laughed.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” Her vision started to blur from unshed tears beginning to pool in the corners of her eyes.

“Really?” She could feel his breath as he spoke. “Because it only makes sense for you to be Ladybug. You’re amazing, Marinette.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it makes all the sense in the world, but I’m still trying to figure out how I got so lucky.”

“I’d like to think that purr-haps we were meant to be.”

“Yeah, no, you’re definitely my Chaton,” Marinette giggled, “Your jokes still have the worst timing. How did I not see it before?”

“Your Chaton? I like the sound of that, my lady.” Even without his transformation, there was a gentle purr behind his words.

“Alright, my Chaton, second question.”

“I’m all ears, my lady.”

“Can I hear more about this dream? I’m very curious to find out what made you realize that I was Ladybug.”

“How about I tell you over dinner. Say...tomorrow?”

“Very smooth.”

“Don’t let my words fool you. I’m completely panicking on the inside.”

“I am, as well, but at the same time, I know that I can trust you completely. That’s the only reason I haven’t melted into a puddle of goo.”

“You’d be a very cute puddle of goo. Nervous Marinette is adorable.”

“You mean the Marinette who couldn’t form coherent sentences around you.”

“Yup,” he chuckled, “That’s the one. So, what do you say? Will you go to dinner with me tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “It’s a date.”

“Paw-some.”

“Oh, no! Don’t make me regret saying ‘yes’!”

“You know you love my puns.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. You know what I would love even more, though?”

“What’s that?”

She shifted her head and nuzzled his nose. “I would love it if you kissed me.”

He placed his hands on her waist and smirked. “I think that could be arranged.”

“Just come here, you silly cat!” Marinette grabbed his cheeks, pulled him towards her, and closed the gap between them.

When their lips crashed together, she was transported. The gazebo’s lights brightened, and the air around them grew warm.

The kiss was a release of every longing sigh, stolen glance, and suppressed “I love you” that had been exchanged between them since the day they’d met. It healed every heartbreak and washed away the pain from the countless lonely nights spent wishing for something more.

It was everything.

He was her everything.

Feeling the gentle movement of Adrien’s lips under her own made her knees weaken. As if he sensed her imminent collapse, he tightened his grip around her waist, straightened his back, lifted her onto her toes, and deepened the kiss. She moved her fingers into his hair and played with the tendrils that hung around the nape of his neck.

All too soon, she ran out of air and pulled away. “Can we do that again?”

“Oh, God, yes.” He once again pressed his lips against hers and sent her to another world.

While this kiss was shorter, it was every bit as meaningful as the first. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer. The warmth of his chest against her torso flooded her brain with immeasurable bliss. Relishing the sensation, she melted into his embrace.

When he pulled away, he peppered her face with smaller kisses, sending her into a fit of giggles. “Adrien! What are you doing?”

He placed one last gentle kiss on her forehead. “Showering you with love and affection.”

Marinette playfully tapped his nose. “There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, we have a job to do.”

“What else could we possibly be doing right now?”

“It’s a patrol night.”

“But we’re both dressed up, and we’re having a great time together.”

“We still have a responsibility to this city.”

“Are you seriously telling me that Paris won’t survive one night without us?”

“Well, I guess it could, but I was also kind of wondering what it might be like to kiss Chat Noir on top of the Eiffel Tower, but if you don’t want to do it…”

He cut her off. “Now hold on just one second. Let’s not be hasty. I know for a fact that Chat Noir would love to do something like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Most definitely.”

“In that case, Tikki, SPOTS ON!” When her transformation was complete, she unsheathed her yo-yo and tossed it onto a rooftop. “Try to keep up, kitty!”

Ladybug tugged on the wire and flew through the air. Within seconds, she heard the familiar patter of her partner running behind her.

And for a moment, all was as it should be.

***

BONUS SCENE:

Tikki sat huddled with Plagg on Marinette’s desk while their chosens cuddled beneath the stars on the balcony above. She replayed the evening's events in her mind and sighed contentedly. She loved watching her wielders fall in love.

Without warning, her mind came to a screeching halt. Adrien had told Marinette that he’d figured out it was her through a dream.

A dream.

And not just any dream. It was a dream that felt as if he were in a different world. Aside from her, there was only one other being in the universe who had the power to make something like that happen.

“Plagg,” she growled, “What did you do?”

He nuzzled his head against her cheek. “What are you talking about, Sugarcube?”

Tikki zipped away and hovered above the other Kwami. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No, come back! You were warm.”

“Oh, no. I’m not coming back until you tell me why you thought it would be a good idea to break down the barrier between our world and another.”

His eyes flicked open. “You caught that, did you?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes, I did. We talked about this. That’s not okay. Bad things happen whenever you do that. Remember Atlantis? Or World War I? Oh, and it was especially fun when we reprised that war with World War II.”

“It wasn’t like those times. It was just a little crack in reality. The opening was only big enough for Adrien to connect with his duplicate on the other side.”

“What makes you think that’s any better?”

“Well, this time it won’t create a mass of disillusioned people. Adrien is strong. He can handle it.”

“It’s not safe!”

Plagg groaned. “I had to do something!”

“But I told you that I was going to convince Marinette to tell him who she was!” Tikki exclaimed, “That was the plan. Not inter-dimensional travel through dreams.”

“Relax! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“PLAGG!”

“If it gets out of hand, we’ll just tell Marinette, and she can help us seal the rift.”

“We need all the Kwamis to make that happen.”

“Then it’ll make them hunt down Hawkmoth even faster. It’s a win-win for everyone. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Yes, many times.”

He placed a paw against his chest. “Ouch.”

Tikki took a deep breath. “You’re sure it was just a little hole?”

“Yes, it’s very small.”

“Will Adrien continue to have dreams?”

“Probably, but he’ll be fine. He has Marinette now.”

“Can I ask which world you sent him to?”

“It’s one where we’re a dashing master of the house and a beautiful seamstress. Adrien is a prince, and he makes Marinette his princess.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“No, it’s a wonderful world. Adrien finds the love of his life in it, and they get to live happily ever after. It’s basically a fairy tale.”

“Let’s just hope you’re right,” Tikki mumbled, settling herself next to Plagg.

“You’ll see.” He yawned and curled himself around her. “Everything will be just fine.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #lovesquarefluffweek2020 #adrienette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #THE REVEAL #meant to be #chapter 7 #reveal #my fic #ao3 #fanfiction #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #AND THEN THEY KISS #THE END #OR IS IT???

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