#mild language

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Obsession

Tom Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: Mild language, Graphic, Smut, Toxic, Possessive, Protective, Angst, Fluff, Suggestive, Anger…

Prompt: Y/N Black is a mystery to many. She isn’t interested in making friends, only her studies. However, unbeknownst to many, one boy has piqued her interest——Tom Riddle. Little did she know, he had an obsession with her.

Sidenote: I did use some spells from the vampire diaries just for the heck of it. I may do a part two, but I’m not sure if it really needs it. I’ll leave it up to you guys!

Everyone seemed more chattier than usual. Maybe it was the upcoming Yule Ball or maybe it was because holidays were approaching. However, you hated the buzzing chatter, the obnoxious shouting, and all of the crowded halls. You had tried to go to the library as an escape from this madness, but everyone had infiltrated the library even.

You were the Scrooge that everybody was painfully aware of as you stormed through the halls with your books clutched to your chest. If you were a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor, they would have laughed at the irked expression on your face. However, knowing you were a Slytherin strikes fear in many.

Not to mention you were a mystery to many. You were oh so quiet, along with a freakishly amount of smart, and an unearthly amount of beautiful. You chose to stick to yourself, choosing to not make any friends. You instead chose to have acquaintances in case a group project popped up, however you normally managed to worm your way out of that so you could work alone.

That was how you preferred doing things, alone. Other students have given up on trying to befriend you, seeing it as pointless. Guys would still try and ask you out, but their advances failed. They hadn’t noticed that your interest was piqued by a boy already. However, it seemed that he was just like you.

Tom Riddle was a handsome young man with jet black curly-ish hair and dark brown eyes that looked almost black from afar. He was fairly tall and had a lean look. His face was always blank…passive as he studied or walked through the halls or even when he was with his group of “friends”. They were his followers in his mind, not his friends. To anyone else, they saw them as a happy friend group.

You had noticed the things that anyone would pick up about Tom from afar, like his intelligence. Tom excelled in all of his classes, in fact he was tied at the top of the year with you. He too was introverted, preferring to be alone and in silence. For someone as passive as Tom, you noticed things he did. When he was judging something, he’d lean back in his chair, occasionally quirking an eyebrow as if he was impressed or annoyed.

When he was in a rather intuitive or creative mood, his eyes seemed to be a lighter shade of brown and he would get carried away in his journal. When he was thinking, he would zone out on his journal or something in the room.

You noticed that he’d clench his jaw until a muscle there ticked when he got angered. When he was annoyed, he had a tendency to sigh.

“Y/N!” Narcissa calls.

She stood among Tom Riddle and all of his “friends”. Tom’s eyes find you who was clearly irritated. You had made your way through the crowd and head towards her.

“Yes?” You ask.

“Hey, that is no way to talk to your favorite cousin.” Narcissa scolds.

“Who said you were my favorite?” You ask.

“It’s because it is me.” Bellatrix grins.

“Not you either.” You mutter.

“Moving on, have you seen Sirius or Regulus?” She asks.

“I’m not their keeper, Narcissa.” You mutter.

“They said they were meeting up with you.” She says, sighing in frustration.

“Well they didn’t. I need to get to class.” You mutter.

Before you could go, Bellatrix grabs your upper arm in a tight grip. You turn back to her with a clenched jaw as Narcissa steps back, muttering an “Uh-Oh”.

“Leaving so soon, cousin?” She mocks.

“Bellatrix, I’m warning you now to let go or you will regret it.” You warn calmly.

“What will you do? You're all goody two shoes, yet your in Slytherin. I think that dumb hat sorted you into the wrong house.” She says.

You pull your wand free, pointing it at her as you mutter “Stupefy”. You roll your eyes as she flies backwards through the crowd.

“If I wouldn’t get expelled, I would definitely crucio you or use the killing curse on you for your information. However, nothing is stopping me once we graduate.” You say, before turning and leaving the group stunned.

Tom smiles slightly as he watches you walk away, finding himself even more intrigued with you than he originally was. Call it an interest or maybe an obsession at this point. He liked to watch you when he could. He noticed things about you that he was sure no one else noticed.

He knew you were a quiet and mysterious girl, but underneath that “innocent” mask you wore, he knew there was a strong woman with a dangerous mind. You were far from innocent and today proved that more so to him. To anyone else, you were that innocent girl. However, when you let your guard down if you were stressed or angry or irritated, he could see the danger swirling in your (eye color) eyes.

He lets his smile fall, regaining his composure before turning back to his group. Bellatrix was back on her feet, a scowl on her face as Narcissa helped hold her up. He watches as Sirius and Regulus join them.

“What is wrong with you?” Sirius asks.

“Your bloody sister is what is wrong! She used stupefy on me!” She snaps.

“How pissed off did you make her?” Regulus chuckles, shaking his head.

“You both told me you were meeting with her about becoming a follower. Yet, she hasn’t seen either of you all day. So, where were you both off to?” Narcissa snaps.

“Have you seen how mad she can get? We learned not to mess around when she gets mad, Issa. When she is mad, she will take down anyone in her path. We’ve learned how to avoid making her mad. So, you go have that conversation with her because I rather not get crucio’d again.” Sirius says.

“Wow.” Avery mutters.

“She may be quiet and keeps to herself, but Y/N is a ticking time-bomb when you make her mad. She is intelligent, and maybe too intelligent for her own good. She also liked being stronger than others in magic, so that is why she studies so hard. However, because she is so antisocial and introverted, even as a child before Hogwarts, she took her studies serious, so she doesn’t understand fun. She is boring.” Sirius says.

“I bet she hasn’t ever shagged anyone, or snogged! A sixth year and a virgin! That is embarrassing.” Bellatrix cackles.

That further piqued Tom’s interest about you.. He found himself having more thoughts about you, both innocent and sinful thoughts. However, his sinful thoughts changed to the exception of you being a virgin. That made him feel a possessiveness over you he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about. However, he knew that the idea of you being with anyone else was sickening to him. You were his, you just didn’t know it yet.

Your studies past fairly quickly and you were heading towards the Great Hall. You sit at your normal spot, Regulus sitting next to you. Tom sat a table down with his “friends”, however his focus was on you. Regulus gently closed your books, pushing them away.

“Eat, then study.” He stresses softly.

As irritated as you were about him taking away your books, you listened. Tom quirked a brow, finding himself wondering if it was often you got so distracted by your studies that you didn’t take care of yourself the best. His eyes roam over you slowly, noticing the dark circles under your eyes along with the thinning face of yours. So, it was often, he thought.

“Y/N! My favorite sister! How has your day been?” Sirius asks as plops down across from you.

“What do you want?” You ask, sighing as you pushed your food around on your plate.

“Nothing to do with studies I hope, she is taking a break to eat.” Regulus stresses.

You close your eyes as the two start to argue, resting your chin on your hand. You open your eyes when Regulus stands, his voice getting louder.

“Enough!” You snap, the two instantly quieting.

It had gotten the attention of those around your table. You take in a slow breath before letting it out, regaining your composure before looking between your brothers with a blank look.

“You two bicker like a bunch of children. This is our brief moment to be able to hang out, however you both don’t know how to push aside your differences because you both are too hot-headed and irrational.” You rant.

You snatch up your books that Regulus had pushed away from you earlier and stood from the table as you left the Great Hall.

Tom watched you leave before looking between your brothers, before his eyes fell on your plate of untouched food. He puts some food in his bag, going unnoticed and decides to leave himself. He made his way to the library, heading to the forbidden section where he assumed you’d be. He feels a brief moment of pride flare in his chest, right about where you had gone. He clears his throat and you look up from your notes.

“Here. I noticed you didn’t eat.” He says.

His voice surprised you. It was deep, soft and mysterious. He pulled out some food he took from the Great Hall and handed it to you.

“Thank you.” You murmur.

He nods, going to leave and you begin working on your studies again. You sigh as a loud group comes into the library.

“Would you allow me to show you a place I like to go?” He asks, looking back down at you.

“I don’t see why not.” You admit, gathering your stuff before standing.

You follow behind Tom, not quite sure where he was taking you. You knew of his quest to become the Dark Lord. Some of his followers had big mouths, so you heard more than everyone thought you knew. They assumed you were clueless about his current quest and they all were tip-toeing around who would be the one to break the news to you. However, you knew. You knew more than them in fact.

He looks around, making sure there was no other students or professors in the hall before a door appears in the wall. Your lips part from surprise as he ushers you in, following behind you. You looked around the empty room in awe.

“The Room of Requirements…I’ve heard of it and I’ve looked everywhere for it.” You mumble.

“Yes, I searched for this room for awhile myself. I later learned that the room only will appear in great need.” Tom explains, seeming rather smug about finding it.

“The room seems to know you quite well…and you seem to know the room quite well too. Otherwise, the door wouldn’t have appeared because I’m sure my studies are not in great need.” You say, turning back to him.

You feel a heat spread across your body as you catch his eyes on you. The dark eyes slowly trail over you, mapping out your body. His eyes stop on your blouse where you had a few buttons undone since you were alone and had started to get a little hot in the confined aisles of the forbidden section in the library.

He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you. You look up, not realizing that he was this tall. He puts a hand out and gently grasps your hip before trailing it up your side. He tugs on the middle of your blouse, revealing more of your cleavage, before he starts undoing the remaining buttons.

“That and maybe because I am in great need of you.” He murmurs, leaning down to trail his lips along your neck.

You shiver, feeling a trail of goosebumps being left behind from the ghost touch. His hands find your shoulders where he pushes the robes off before pushing your blouse off along with it. He leaves a soft kiss on your racing pulse, before he pulls back to look down at you.

You were left in a dark green lace bra, and he tsked quietly, approving the way they made your breasts look. The bra seemed to work as a push-up bra, but really Narcissa had gotten you the wrong size this year.

His eyes trail over your stomach, noting the soft curves he would be sure to feel later. His eyes focus on the short school-girl skirt, also Narcissa’s doing. You didn’t fret much about it as you knew you’d wear your robe more often than not. You were wearing knee high stockings with a pair of mary-janes.

“The school girl skirt, hmph, your just asking to be fucked, aren’t you?” He asks, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

“Tom.” You say breathlessly.

“Leave the skirt on, but take your panties off.” He orders.

He begins unbuttoning his own shirt, watching you. You were frozen in place before you start to work the panties down. He held a hand out, looking at you expectantly. Your shaky hand places the matching dark green lace panties into his hand.

He balls it up and sticks it in his blazer pocket. You watch as his long, slender fingers work his belt off. Your eyes focused on his veiny hands.

“Hands and knees.” He says.

You slowly drop to your knees, turning over, no longer able to watch his next move. You get on your hands, moving so you are on your elbows. You arch your back down, sticking your ass out more.

Tom licks his lips slowly, swallowing hard as he watches you get into the position. He inhales deeply, watching as you arch your back. He puts a clenched fist to his mouth, lightly biting himself, not quite sure if this was really happening. The skirt hid nothing. He could see the big globes that he found himself really attracted to. He never would have taken himself as an ass man.

His eyes trail further down to see your glistening entrance. He pushes his pants off before he gets on the ground behind you. He brushes your hair over your shoulder, before he finds himself tracing down your spine lightly. You shiver unintentionally, however he enjoyed the effect he on you.

“How bad do you want me?” He murmurs into your ear.

“Please, Tom.” You whisper as you push your hips back.

“Pathetic. Do you want my cock or not?” He asks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and roughly jerking your head back.

A breathless moan fills the thick air in the room as a heat spreads across your scalp. He clenches his jaw, feeling himself twitch from the sound he heard. It was the beginning of a beautiful symphony, one he didn’t realize how much he’d become crazed for.

“Tom! Please! I need you!” You cry, feeling frustrated that he wasn’t touching you where you wanted to be touched.

He smirks, gently grabbing your hips. He uses his other hand to guide himself into your dripping entrance. He groans, your walls immediately grasping onto him, suffocating him. You moan lowly, your hands grasping at the stone floor as your eyes flutter shut.

“Fuck.” He curses, working himself in and out of you slowly.

“Tom, please.” You plead, pushing your hips back.

“Is my cock the first one you’ve ever had?” He asks, his eyes burning in the back of your head as he awaited your response.

“Yes! Please, Tom!” You cry.

He couldn’t help the grin across his face. He heard it, but he wasn’t sure if maybe you just kept them out of the loop. But, knowing he was the one to take your virginity was exhilirating to him.

“I better be the only cock you have here. You are mine.” He warns.

“Yes! I-I’m yours, Tom!” You moan as he starts to move at a faster pace.

“I’ll kill any boy who dares to be with you, because you are mine! I’ll punish you if I see you talking to some boy.” He growls, his hips now savagely moving.

You cry for more, your soft and loud moans were music to his ears. He breathed heavily along with you as held onto your hips tightly. Skin smacking echoed in the room and you heard his soft groan which sent you coming. He groans louder as you clench around him, coming around him.

You stood on shaky legs, buttoning up your blouse and grimacing as you feel your shared climaxes slowly leaking out of you. He grasps your chin, looking at you with a stern look.

“Keep it in. I want you to know who fucked you.” He says.

“Tom, I need my panties.” You say as your cheeks flush.

“Find another way to keep it in.” He says, before focusing back on straightening himself out.

You pull your blazer on along with your robes before grabbing your books and hurrying out. You reach the Slytherin common room, Narcissa and Bellatrix looking up from their game of cards. Sirius and Regulus’s backs were to you.

“Oh my god, you got shagged!” Narcissa exclaims with a grin.

“Who was it?” Bellatrix asks.

“Yeah, I’d like to know.” Sirius seethes, taking in your disheveled hair and the hickeys on your neck.

Narcissa looks at your knees to see that they were scraped up, but you choose to ignore your brothers and cousins as you make your way past them. Regulus laughs, yelling “Atta girl!”

A small smile graces your lips at your little brothers comment. He too was protective of you, but he knew you inside and out. He and you were far closer than you were with Sirius. You get to your dorm and think of showering, but then your mind wanders to Tom. Keep it in…

You pull on a pair of fresh panties as you change into your nightware. You found yourself tossing and turning for a long while before you fell asleep. By the time it was time to wake up, you were exhausted. You could sleep in, but that ruins your morning routine.

You go to the shower, grimacing at the burn in your stomach. It was now that you realized you didn’t eat once yesterday. You finished up in the bathroom before pulling on a black lingerie set. You gasp as your door opens and Tom walks in.

“I knew you’d be awake.” He says, his eyes slowly roaming over you and some of the bruises he had made from where he held you still.

“Tom, what are you doing here?” You ask, grabbing a random robe and pulling it on.

“I’ve seen it all, darling. I wanted to tell you no more skirts.” He says and you look at him confused.

“I…Is it because how short they are?” You ask.

“That and the school girl skirt should be meant for my eyes when we are alone. Do you understand?” He asks.

“I…yes, Tom.” You say quietly.

He grins, looking at your neck where you had several hickeys before he leaves. You frown and look at the outfit you had prepared for this morning. It consisted of a school girl skirt.You sigh, grabbing a dark green skater skirt that ended a little about mid-thigh. There wasn’t much you could do about the length of your skirts until you went shopping again.

You grab your button up blouse and your Slytherin tie. You grab the blazer and sigh when you see dust on it. You hang it back up, deciding you will have to clean it later because you don’t have time now.

You pull on your knee socks and mary-janes when there was a knock at your dorm door. You open it and see it was Narcissa.

“I came bearing gifts.” She says.

You open the door and she guides you to the small vanity as she begins to help you cover the hickeys on your neck and jawline.

“So, who was it?” She asks.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to say who it was yet.” You murmur.

“Did he force you? I’ll make him suffer the worst ways imaginable.” She says seriously.

“No, no, he didn’t force me. I’m just not sure what is happening yet. I don’t know if it merely was just another shag to him or if it’ll turn into something. However, he’s being a little controlling of what I wear, mainly my skirts.” You explain.

“I feel like I already know who this is.” She says, sighing.

“Who?” You ask.

“Tom Riddle?” She asks.

“Oh…how did you know?” You ask.

“Tom is…many things. I don’t know if he is capable of love and a relationship. He is a very possessive man. And I mean to the extent that it isn't healthy. He is ill-tempered and easily jealous. Not to mention he can be obsessive too. I personally think you should put some distance between the two of you and let things die down. I don’t know what his intentions are, but I’m sure they aren’t good.” She explains.

“Alright.” You say quietly.

You were quite sure how to feel. But, you knew Narcissa meant well and you also knew that she knew Tom better than you. You trusted her advice almost as you trusted Regulus’s.

“All done.” She says.

“Thank you, Issa.” You murmur and she nods.

She leaves you to your thoughts and you realize you need to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast. You gather your books and make your way out of your dorm in a daze. You head to the Great Hall and see everyone was already there. You ignore the burning stare that you knew belonged to Tom Riddle.

“Hey, you okay? You seem out of it? And your running late.” Regulus says.

“Oh, I’m fine. I think I’m just in need of food. I realized I didn’t eat once yesterday.” You explain.

“Y/N/N, you’ve got to take better care of yourself. I will start treating you like I did the first year.” He warns.

“I know, I know, and I promise I’ll do better.” You sigh.

“Why is Riddle staring at you? He seems pissed.” He whispers.

“Oh, who knows.” You sigh, briefly glancing at Tom.

Tom was staring at your neck where your hickeys would be, but thanks to Narcissa, they were no longer there. You managed to eat some of your food before it began to make you feel sick. You felt suffocated with Tom glaring daggers into you and Sirius was no better.

“Stop it.” Regulus warns Sirius.

“I want to know who it was.” He snaps, looking back at you.

You clench your jaw, narrowing your eyes at him as you take a slow breath in and let it out. You pull your wand out and keep your hand rested on the table, so you don’t draw anymore attention to you.

“Keep glaring, brother and watch how fast you end up in the hospital wing.” You warn lowly.

“Guys.” Narcissa warns.

“Who is he?” He growls lowly, leaning closer to you.

“Oh shit. Take cover!” Regulus says, going under the table.

You reach forward, grabbing Sirius’s tie and pull him closer as your face heats from anger.

“Astronomy tower, now.” You grit out.

He stands and storms out and you stand as Regulus pokes his head out.

“Don’t kill him please.” He pleads.

You storm out of the Great Hall, wand in hand as you make your way towards the Astronomy tower to see him already there and waiting.

“Who is it!?” He snaps as you both circle each other.

“Sirius, it’s none of your business. Stop trying to act like the older and protective brother. Stop acting like you care!” You snap.

“I do care! You're my sister.” He snaps.

“Guys. Let’s try to keep calm.” Narcissa says as she walks in with her group.

“Yeah, let’s just hug it out and make up.” Regulus says.

“I want to know who has my sister acting like a tramp.” He snaps.

“Oh no….oh no! Oh no! Back up, back up, back up!” Regulus says as he pushes everyone back.

“Bombarda!” You fast and Sirius curses as he tries to dodge the mini explosion you casted his way.

“Confundo!” He shouts, but you dodge it.

“Everte Statum.” You cast, watching as he flies back against the wall, his wand falling in the process.

You walk forward, grabbing his wand before looking down at him.

“Impulsa Animositas!” You snap, gaining confused looks from around the room.

“I…Y/N, have you been creating spells again?” Regulus asks cautiously.

“Again?” Narcissa asks alarmed.

“What did you do to me?” Sirius snaps.

“Say something mean. To any of us.” You say, smirking.

“What the hell did you do to me you crazy bi—ow!” He exclaims after feeling a jolt of electricity go through you.

“Just as I assumed. This spell will zap you everytime you try and say something mean.” You say.

“That’s child’s play you idiot!” He snaps before groaning.

“Hm. This isn’t. Lihednat Dolchitni.” You cast.

His hands find his throat as he try’s to breath. You clench your fist tighter, watching how he struggles more before you wave your hand and it stops. He leans forward, breathing heavily.

“Tread carefully, brother. I have far more up my sleeve than you wish to believe.” You spat.

“You…you will get in so much trouble for creating spells. Regulus and I told you that you need to stop.” He breathes heavily.

“Then keep your mouths shut otherwise I’ll make you suffer in the worst unimaginable ways.” You say.

With that, you turn and walk past the group who seemed shocked. You head back to the Great Hall, gathering your items before heading back to your dorm. You were too upset and riled up to do anything. So, instead you hurry to your dorm and lock the door.

You pace frantically, running your hands through your hair. You let a breath out that you hadn’t noticed you were holding.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. Everything is okay.” You mumble to yourself.

The lock on your door clicks, so you turn and see Tom. He closes the door back and turns to you with that normal passive and cold look.

“That was…impressive.” He says.

“Tom, I really rather be alone right now.” You mutter.

“Why cover the marks I left? I left them for a reason.” He says, his voice hardening as his eyes turn several shades darker.

“I didn’t want to walk around with them showing. People would have said something and I don’t want to deal with that. Plus, I rather the school not know I was your play thing.” You mutter harshly, turning your back to him.

“Who said you were a play thing because I don’t recall ever telling you that?” He snaps.

“Tell me this, Tom. Are you one for commitment? Would you be in an exclusive relationship? Huh, tell me that!” You snap harshly as you turn to face him again.

“I can do commitment. Before, I’d say no. However, for you I am willing to do it. I’m willing to be in an exclusive relationship as you call it. Because I can’t ever get you out of my head! You are all I can focus on! It’s so…so irritating, yet I love it at the same time.” He growls.

“Tom, there are going to have to be some rules set in place if we are to do something. Like the skirt thing this morning. I only wear skirts.” You say.

“Fine. Wear your skirts, well not the school girl ones, however I can’t promise that some asshole won’t end up dead for looking. You are mine.” He snaps.

“Okay, and what about the marks?” You ask.

“You shouldn’t care what anyone says. You never have before, so why care now? I want people to know that you belong to me. I want the guys to realize that you aren’t a possibility anymore. You are mine.” He says, closing the distance between you both.

You look up as his hand wraps around your throat. He tightens his hand and you let a shaky breath out as you clench your thighs.

“You barely know me.” You mumble.

“I know more than you think, darling. You piqued my interest. When that happens, I tend to learn everything I can.” He murmurs, brushing his nose against yours before kissing you softly.

You hum, moving your hands to his hair. You whine when he pulls back, a smirk on his lips.

“What does that mean? How have you learned about me if you just started speaking to me yesterday?” You ask.

“Because I might be a bit obsessive when it comes to learning of the things that interest me. I won’t stop until I know everything.” He says.

There was banging on your dorm door and you sigh, going to walk past Tom, but he loops an arm around your waist.

“Who is it?” Tom asks, annoyed.

“It’s Bella, me and Regulus. Is Y/N in there?” Narcissa says.

“Well go away. I’m about to fuck my girl.” He snaps.

Your face heats up as you cover your mouth to hide your gasp. Narcissa gasps, Regulus laughs and yells for you to get it while Bellatrix throws a fit.

“We are not doing anything! We are just talking!” You exclaim.

“Talking, huh?” He says, quirking a brow at you as he slips a hand beneath your skirt.

You let a shaky breath out as he trails his hand up your thigh. He gets to your underwear, sliding two fingers beneath the lacy fabric.

“Tom.” You mumble.

“Talking and yet you're so wet for me. Do you want my cock again?” He asks, sliding a finger in you.

Your eyes flutter close and he grins widely, loving the way you reacted to his touch. You were the violin and he was the violinist. He played you so gracefully and loved the beautiful symphony that came from your mouth. It was his greatest obsession.

#harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry potter #harry potter reader insert #tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x you #tom riddle imagine #dark lord #mild language #smut #harry potter smut #tom riddle smut #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle oneshot #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x fem!reader #k!nk mention #obsessive behavior #mauraders #harry potter universe #imagine #smut imagine #smut warning

[knifedancer]

Dancing In The Rain

Prompt: Rain In which Felix learns that Paris at night is much more beautiful when he dances in the rain…with Marinette.

~~~~~~~

It was a rainy Saturday in Paris, the city of love and magic, of superheroes and villains… One would expect to be charmed by a gentle sprinkle on such a lazy day! However, standing under the sopping café umbrella that threatened to snap shut under the weight of the current downpour, we find a boy who feels the polar opposite. Felix Fathom was unimpressed and just plain irritated with Paris – he didn’t even want to be here! It was not the city itself but his week that had put him in such a foul mood. He took stock of his life up to this point and was convinced he was on a bad luck streak – one that built with each passing day until this very moment.

Why, you may ask?

Monday he was shipped off to Paris by his mother to visit his oblivious cousin for two days. Two days of pretending he didn’t know Gabriel was Monarch. Sure, what could go wrong?

Well, he must have jinxed it or angered a random omnipotent god because this week must be divine punishment…

On Tuesday, he discovered his favorite fountain pen had exploded all over his new book and the contents of his book bag.

Wednesday his mother joyously announced he would be staying for the whole week due to work obligations on her part. Phenomenal.

Thursday he was targeted by an akuma – which, in all honesty, he had instigated the akumatization… but only because that damn waitress had dumped his iced coffee into his lap!

If the akuma seemed a little too hostile, well, Uncle was likely gunning for him…

On Friday, he discovered Gabriel had someone ransack his room – likely looking for the peacock miraculous. Felix suspected it was Uncle Gabe himself because half his clothes were ripped asunder by someone expressing a lot of frustration! And he was not sure what that awful odor rubbed all over his boxers was!

Although he was unsure what his uncle would have burnt to leave a random trail of ashes on the floor…

But this morning?

Oh ho ho, this fucking morning was the pièce de résistance!

Saturday brought forth quite a surprise! He awoke in Adrien’s bed, in his cousin’s pajamas, and a note on his forehead from said conniving cousin telling Felix to ‘fill in’ for him on a photoshoot while he spent the day with his friends. Felix had no idea how the model had gotten out of the house, although he assumed that he would find some of his own clothes missing from his closet if he checked. How did Adrien even get him from his room down the hall without waking him?!

That wasn’t even the worst part.

Halfway through the boring photoshoot on the outskirts of Paris, there was an akuma attack. Stormy Weather appeared after being slighted by the meteorologist at the news station – something about Stormy’s predictions being wrong? He didn’t fully know, he only caught part of her monologue before running for cover. They had been hit by hurricane level winds, sleet, and snow so suddenly that half the equipment had to be left behind. Le Gorille had rushed him to the car to make a quick getaway however, just eight blocks away, they had hit some black ice and popped two tires on the curb. Gorille sent him to go find a place to shelter while he called the auto club, but nothing was open due to the attack. So, Felix made the executive decision to walk back. He was about halfway across Paris when the wave of ladybugs purified the area. Finally, his day was looking up!

Felix pulled out his phone to call Le Gorille…only to find the battery dead. Great.

He was stranded, in the middle of Paris, with a dead phone and no money to even hail a taxi with. ‘This day could NOT get any worse!’ Felix thought in a huff.

That was when the rain started.

You see, Stormy Weather – Aurore, whatever – had predicted an unseasonable rain coming that day and the chief meteorologist had scoffed at the teen. Felix was suddenly very supportive of the akuma’s desire to correct the idiot! The blond ran down the street to a café, only to find it was closed due to a shortage of staff. Luckily there was a left-out patio umbrella that he could take shelter under until the rain lightened up.

Except that it didn’t. It grew heavier by the passing minute and Felix found himself huddled under a flimsy, soddy, dripping umbrella in seemingly the worst rainstorm to hit Paris since the Great Flood of 1910. The wet blond mused over the fact that somehow, someway, this was not caused by an akuma. If that were the case, then could all these linked bad events just be coincidence? Or was he simply that unlucky? Once he returned back to London, he would definitely need to ask Duusu if kwamis could curse people…

Just as Felix was about to settle for getting drenched in the rain, a flash of pink caught his eye. There, across the street, moved a lone hazy figure with a polka-dotted umbrella and pink galoshes. As he turned to look at them fully, he realized this figure was not walking down the street but dancing; kicking up puddles on the sidewalk while humming a little ditty as they crossed the intersection nearby. As the figure got closer, he could make out dark hair pulled back into pigtails… pigtails that reminded him of…

“…Marinette?” He hadn’t seen her since that disastrous night at the Diamond Dance!

The girl jolted with surprise when she heard her name, her bluebell eyes taking in the damp blond boy huddled beneath the dripping canopy. He looked exhausted and just as shocked as she was.

“Ad-Adrien? W-what are you doing out h-here?” she squeaked, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

‘Ah, she thinks I’m Adrien again…perhaps I could trick her into letting me borrow her umbrella,’ Felix thought strategically.

He plastered on his imitation model smile and approached her as far as his sparse covering would allow. “I uh… I had a photoshoot today, but then there was that akuma attack? Then my phone died! And, well, it’s a long story...” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Wow, talk about bad luck. But are you lost? Your house is this way,” the young designer pointed in the opposite direction that Felix had been headed.

The blond blinked and muttered a curse under his breath. “I guess I got lost with everything going on… Would you mind if I walked back with you?”

“Oh…um…s-sure,” Marinette lifted her umbrella to accommodate his taller frame. He ducked under but quickly discovered that she would shrink slightly from their proximity and cause the umbrella’s armatures to smack him in the head. With a gentle smile disguising his irritation, he offered to hold it for her, and she quickly acquiesced. They fell into a companionable silence as they walked. He knew he needed to say something, Adrien would obviously be chatting with her…

“So…what were you doing out in this storm, Marinette?”

“Oh…uh, I was out running a delivery for my parents.”

“Really? In this dreary weather?” Felix asked with obvious surprise.

“Dreary? No, I love the rain! There’s something magical about it…like having a million sparkles falling from the sky!” He watched as her eyes twinkled and he could almost imagine the raindrops glistening just from the brightness of her smile. “It’s special to me,” she finished with a blush.

“Is that why you were dancing in it when I saw you?” He chuckled remembering her hops and twirls on the sidewalk.

Her cheeks flushed dark red, her eyes dropped to her fidgeting hands, and her smile faded with her embarrassment. “Ooh…you saw that? I just…,” Marinette paused, unsure of how to proceed. “I’m not any good at dancing but…it’s fun,” she finished with a whisper.

Felix frowned at the change in her behavior, he clearly recalled their short dance together and her natural grace on the dancefloor. Perhaps she was just self-deprecating because she was intimidated by his cousin? Adrien would surely attempt to cheer up his friend – perhaps girlfriend – wouldn’t he? With not a second longer in hesitation, he stopped and held out his hand to the bluenette. She stared at it for a moment before turning her impossibly blue eyes toward him. “Could I have this dance?” Her eyes widened and she blushed, taking his hand bashfully. He handed her back the umbrella to hold over his shoulder as he wrapped her in his embrace. With a soft hum he began to lead her in a gentle waltz down the sidewalk.

Slowly but surely the warm smile returned and brightened before his eyes as he guided her into bigger and faster spins, keeping them both in tempo to the steps long ingrained in his limbs by dance instructors his mother had insisted he learn from – much to his dismay at the time. ‘I guess I’ll have to thank her now that those silly lessons were finally of some use,’ he thought while a grin spread unwittingly across his face. He lost himself to the movements of their dance, a comfortable warmth growing in his chest. In a rather large puddle he spun Marinette, her foot fanning out in a way that caused the standing water to splash in a great wave over the curb before she settled back into his arms for another set of steps with a giggle. The warmth grew as Felix dipped her, watching as her radiant smile turned up towards the heavens as raindrops danced across her face.

They progressed down the street, both of them smiling and laughing as their hair and shoulders were moistened by wayward drops that missed the umbrella. Eventually they slowed to a stop as they waited for the crosswalk light to change; he gazed down at her – noting the flushed pink cheeks, sparkling eyes, and wide smile. Felix wasn’t sure what came over him. He glanced down at her lips, parted and panting from their energetic dance, and suddenly wanted to know how they felt. With hooded eyes he leaned forward, his arm tightening around her waist as he felt her rise up slowly on her tip toes as if to meet him halfway…the umbrella dropped from her fingers as they slid to the short hairs on the back of his neck, but neither could find it in their minds to care about the rain falling on their heads…

Just as their lips were about to touch, a car came careening around the corner and hit the large puddle forming at the blocked drain. Felix quickly rotated them so that he would shield her with his body. Within seconds a massive, brackish tidal wave splashed over them both and left them drenched. Feeling the cold, dirty water sliding down his spine, the blond let out a string of English curses that even his mother would be ashamed of. Marinette seemed to jolt at the noise and stared at him while he pushed the very wet hair from his face – unconsciously putting it back into his normal style – as the heavy rain continued to pour on their heads. He missed the calculating look she gave him before that gave way to a small smile, then to a chuckle, then a full belly laugh. Felix looked at her dumbfounded before he, too, began to crack up at their situation.

“You look ridiculous,” she giggled out.

“You look like a drowned mouse!” Felix laughed back, unable to contain himself.

“At least I don’t look like an overgrown komondor!” They laughed harder, tears springing to their eyes as the rain plastered their hair to their heads.

‘When was the last time I laughed like this?’ both thought to themselves wryly.

They both eventually calmed down, wiping tears and hair from their eyes. He fished the umbrella from the sidewalk and shook some of the water free before offering it to Marinette. She shook her head and motioned for him to keep it. “My house is just a couple doors down from here. You need it more than I do. The mansion is just up this street,” the blue-eyed girl pointed down the adjacent road.

He furrowed his brow slightly, realizing that their stolen time was coming to an end; he found the warmth in his chest had turned to an ache – he would miss her presence. “You’re sure? At least let me walk you home.”

Marinette quickly shook her head, her wet pigtails flinging droplets of water with the motion. “I’ll be fine, besides you need to get back, so you don’t catch a cold.  We’re both soaked to the bone!” He watched as she hesitated for a moment before sliding in close, pulling him down by his shirt collar, and kissing his cheek. “Th-thank you for the dance, Felix.”

With a distant clap of thunder, a red flush crept up his neck and onto his face as her soft lips pressed against his cheek. In the seconds that it took for him to register her words, she had taken off at a full sprint and disappeared into the heavy rain – returning to the pink blur he first saw by that café. Felix stood there in the rain, speechless and flustered as he touched his cheek. He couldn’t say how long he stood there, staring off, but it was long enough that the downpour had finally become a light drizzle. He looked down at the umbrella in his hand as if looking for proof that this had not been a dream… He gripped the handle a little tighter. It was solid, tangible, real.

A small smile spread across his face. Perhaps his luck wasn’t so bad after all.

~~~ BONUS SCENE ~~~

On Friday after school, while Adrien took care of his extra Chinese lessons and the others were out of the house, Plagg decided to do a little reconnaissance. He carefully zipped across his holder’s room and phased through the wall, floating down the empty hallway until he got to the end. Once there he passed through the door and ducked behind a garbage can while he surveyed the room. A wicked gleam and mischievous grin lit up the kwami’s face; the room was empty!

It had been about two months since Tikki told him about the Adrien knockoff showing up with Duusu and making a mess of things. The London blond had been very combative with Ladybug but oddly protective of Marinette. Tikki was hopeful that Felix might be reformed and join their side – his other half was so optimistic like that. The cheese wheel was always half full with her!

Plagg though? He was a ‘it’s a half a damn wheel of cheese’ type of cat – he jokingly liked to say he was an ‘optipissed’: pissed off optimist. Could things go right? Sure, but things could also just be what they appear.

Plagg didn’t know if Adrien’s cousin was redeemable and didn’t care to figure it out; planning was Tikki’s thing. He preferred results. That’s why he decided to curse that fluffed-up popinjay with a little bad luck! Well, that was mostly because the tiny cat god wanted revenge. Tomato, potato. Right now, the cat kwami intended to get results by taking the peacock miraculous and get it to Pigtails ASAP. Plagg hoped that Felix had left it behind in a hidden compartment or spot in the room while not in use. If it was on his person, the black cat wasn’t sure what to do!

“Duusu!” the black cat called, “Hey Duusu! You in here?” There was no answer.

“Tsk. If I was a feather-brained, pompous, jerk face, where would I hide a broach?” Plagg asked himself as he looked around the room. He decided to check the desk first – rifling through the neat stacks of paper and pens – before dive bombing into the bed to phase through the mattress and pillows. No dice. He proceeded around the room, passing through lamps, tables, and books with increasing irritation. He didn’t even sense the miraculous nearby! He swatted a pillow with his tail in agitation.

Well, if he wasn’t going to get what he came for, he might as well enjoy himself…

Just then the door opened and Plagg hid himself inside a lampshade, watching with great suspicion as Gabriel entered the room to do his own snooping. The cat kwami stayed silent as his holder’s father dug through the closet and dresser, ripping apart jacket and suitcase linings in search of something. After about five minutes, Gabriel let out a soft growl and stalked back across the room to the door. With one last glance around the room, he slammed the door behind him.

‘Seems he didn’t find what he was looking for either!’ Plagg thought suspiciously, he wondered what the kid had stolen this time.

The black cat kwami slowly exited his hiding place, making sure no one would be near to hear his next actions. Then he phased into the closet and began to toss the remaining collection of trousers, vests, and pristinely pressed shirts all over the floor while he cackled with glee. When it was in proper upheaval, he gathered up one each of Felix’s socks from the dresser, called upon his cataclysm, leaving only a small pile of dust on the floor as evidence of their existence. Plagg then burrowed into the underwear drawer, intent to claw some holes in the materials there when the door opened again…

“Plagg?” came Adrien’s hesitant whisper.

Popping his head out the leg of a pair of boxer briefs with a cheesy belch, the kwami called back, “hey kid, I’m over here!”

Adrien quietly closed the door and stalked across the room, tripping on a shirt and unconsciously kicking up the small pile of ashes as he recovered his balance. Plagg watched with satisfaction as the ashes settled to litter a bigger portion of the floor. “What the hell are you doing in here? Felix will be home any minute!”

“Just lookin’ for the miraculous, kid. Figured we know sourpuss has got the peacock, perhaps he’d leave it unattended, then we could get it back to the guardian.”

“Did you have to make such a mess?” the blond pressed his hand to his forehead as he looked over the random piles and ripped items on the floor. “I’m already stuck doing that photoshoot tomorrow instead of hanging out with Nino; if Father thinks I destroyed Felix’s room, I’ll probably be grounded for life!”

Plagg landed on Adrien’s shoulder, “About that kid… I got an idea. Why don’t we…,” as he whispered quietly in his ear.

Adrien’s eyes lit up and he chuckled, gathering up a few pieces of clothes from the floor to use as his disguise in the morning. “That’s sure to put him in a fowl mood!”

~~~Author's Notes: yes I referenced a historical event (Great Flood of 1910), a specific breed of dog, and made a peacock pun.

AO3 Link

#miraculous ladybug #felinette #felix x marinette #marivanily #marinette dupain cheng #felix fathom #felix graham de vanily #cross posted on ao3 #rainyday #dancing in the rain #felix dressed like adrien #not like that #Felix has terrible luck #He is definitely talking to Duusu later #fluff and humor #mild language #Plagg is a little shit #pov felix #POV Plagg #open ending

[grandaddy-of-all-liars]

for the reader folks, a one shot inspired by the fantastic art of none other than @snailgam, dedicated to @snailgam & @rensnumberonefan for well, you guys know ❤️

(CW: some expletives/harsh language only)

🚧 🚧 🚧 🚧 🚧

" 'B'! Bleeker Ave!"

"You can't do that, you used eet for thee 'A' already."

"Nuh-Uh, that's a different word, 'Avenue', so it's not cheating! Your turn."

"Aghhh ... fine, whatayver, I don't care."

"Come on now, your turn!"

" 'C'. Closer. Ya happy? Go."

"Wait a minute, where's 'Closer'?"

"Een thee mirr- eet's etched een the side mirror, okay!?"

"Nowww that's cheating, it's on the car!"

"Eet's outside, OUTSIDE THEE CAR. And you want to double-use words!?"

"That's different, though!"

"Give me thee strength ... makeeng up your own damn rules ... "

"I don't SEEEE a 'C'! Try again!"

"Okay, 'C' for thee Crap I'm goeeng to beat of your, 'C', Carcass, later!"

"Jeez, what a spoil sport."

"THERE! Kowalski EleCtreeC, 'C'! Now you go twice!"

"Wh- how come?"

"Because there's an 'E' too, you EEEmbecile!"

"Now now, you know that's cheating. Same word."

"Just play by your dadgom saylf and geeve us a rest, ah?"

"You're such a party pooper. Play wittthhh meee ... I bet we get to 'Z!' "

"We already deed twice! Now lay off, I need to theenk."

"Okay, on to 'D' it is ... "

"I'll geeve ya a 'D', pain een my ass ... "

"What Ren?"

"Huh what nothing. I deed'nt say a theeng."

A Frank Comstock & His Orchestra cassette spooled along, ticking at every rotation. Everything in this car was at least slightly well-loved. Okay, so there were in fact worse things he could conjur up than being stuck on the road with Stimpy for, what, thirty-seven minutes now? Bearing in mind, this was supposed to be a two-stop, forty-five minute errand, tops. At least they had snuck in a fast lunch of eggs and refried beans and almost too-stale-to-eat toast before flying out of their apartment. But for what? To sit on the crosstown overpass for half an hour? Because Stimpy just had to insist on coming along for the ride, and just had to insist Ren take the bridge so he could look down at the sailboats in the bay and wave at the cranky gulls on what should have been a smooth jog across the waterway. And, as Ren had decided, the universe of course hated him especially. Just for him, it had plotted the lifting of the bridge gate for a marvelously timed passing barge, as well as the lout who had started turning just as traffic halted and was now delightfully stalled out across both narrow lanes. What a freaking terrific plan, Ren callously applauded. He sunk deeper into the bucket seat, pressing his angry hide against the blazing black backrest. Oh how he now lamented having not fixed the air conditioner. But it wasn't his fault. How was he to know he'd get stranded on sun-baked tarmac hovering over the glaring brown waterway's blindingly reflective waves microwaving fire air back into his little sedan? Why him, why always him?

Stimpy seemed content with the windows down, angling about to look for all the letters in the alphabet. Again. Ignoring that their car and everyone adjacent had maybe traveled four feet in the last half hour. Ignoring that the big box truck offering a canopy of shade had of course been held back by a pushy little shit in a compact that just had to get one vehicle ahead, forcing them into raw sun without any shielding reprieve. At least Stimpy was seemingly spared of the cosmic torture doled out just for Ren. If only he'd taken the tunnel. If only they skipped their meal. If only the budget for his department wasn't axed two-thirds through the fiscal year to offset a horrible company investment that had fallen through. If only he wasn't relegated to treating their few precious possessions as collateral until he got a new job. If only he'd never woken up this morning. Why did he ever bother waking up at all anymore? He leaned forward, pressing weary brow hard into the steering wheel, pressing sweat-soaked hat rim up against his ears. He closed his eyes too tight, so tight they hurt, so tight he swore he could see solar flares vacuuming his body inward to a flaming abyss.

"Ren?"

Stimpy sounded worried.

"It's gonna be ok."

"Steempy, I don't even know eef we're gonna have enough gas to get home at thees point. Maybe thees ees a sign."

"How's that?"

"Maybe we're not supposed to make eet today. Maybe there's another way."

"What way is that then?"

"I don't freaking know, ok? What's weeth all the questions weeth you always! How about an answer for once in your brainless life!? Do you not get thee sheer pressure to be me all de time!?"

Ren motioned toward the glove box. Stimpy reminded him he'd smoked the last cigarette in that box about twenty minutes ago. Ren rubbed rigid hand over his scowl, pulling his eye sockets tight as palm dragged across his weathered face. As last resort, he pawed beneath his seat, knuckling greasy crumbs and loose change and straw wrappers until he heard that sweet telltale cellophane crinkle.

"C'mon C'mon C'mon, for Daddy ... "

Two white tips rolled in the corner of the carton.

"Sweet baby Bee-ayzul-bub!"

Maybe not every stellar installment fixed above loathed his existence. He lit up and savored the distraction from their predicament.

"So how much ya think we're gonna get for this stuff?" Stimpy quizzed, shaking a small dirty envelope.

"I told you to stop asking me questions, for fuck's sake. And poot that down, you'll drop sometheeng."

Stimpy returned it to the console compartment dejectedly.

"Hey. Don't be so moody, I'll buy ya a new one some day, huh?" Ren quipped.

"I know you will, it's not that."

"Well what then?"

"Do you really care, Ren?"

"WHAT DEED YOU JUST SAY?" he ripped the cigarette from his lips and held it out the open window, panting hot nicotine breath through his mouth into the cabin.

Stimpy flinched only marginally, turning his unperturbed frown to look Ren dead in the eyes.

"I asked if you really cared. About me."

"What's your goddamn problem!? You gonna start weeth me now?!"

Stimpy huffed through his nose, "It's a simple question, Ren."

"You got sooome nerve, ya know that, and for what!? Where do you get off ... you theenk I'm haveeng thee time of my life right now? Stuck weeth all these bastards in thees stewpid old jalopy weeth you? No job, no plan, selleeng our sheet for a few bucks? And you have the fuckeeng right!?"

Stimpy finally relented and peered back out his window, tracing his finger along the door paneling. Ren threw his elbow into his seat and pushed his hat down low over his eyes. He pulled the last drag off his smoke in one long slow suck and flicked the filter toward the murky waters below. He expended his smoky exhale purposefully in Stimpy's direction, sending tiny faint ribbons whirling around his kitty ears and nose. Stimpy didn't react. Only continued to stare blankly at a sky that was neither cloudy nor blue. Just an undefined, opaque hot white. Ren's shoulders relaxed down his back. He sneered at the envelope. Might as well take one final inventory while they were stuck motionless, suspended. Nowhere important. He needed a derision from Stimpy's attitude regardless.

Lip peeled and folded back, Ren beheld the contents of the meager package. A few gold fillings that supposedly came from his grandfather's muzzle. His silver Communion bracelet. A 14kt hoop he'd been lucky to find on the boardwalk earlier that summer. A couple old coins of questionable value. His platinum chain with saint medallion his mother had gotten for him as a pup. And then their wedding rings. An odd collection of somewhat precious items spanning his entire lifetime, reduced to the contents of one battered envelope. Their destiny now felt cheap, hollow, meaningless. He would exchange these relics for a few nondescript bucks and their individual meanings would be forever lost on civilization. He examined each of the personal items more carefully. The St. Michael medallion on delicate chain that had adorned his neck throughout gradeschool, a special gift his mother gave him as a symbol of protection from the world she had just yanked him into. The words 'Protección y Devoción' along with his initials etched into its back. The bracelet his aunt gave him, which had not fit around even his weak little wrist for years, not that he'd worn it more than a few weeks after he recieved Communion. Or to gatherings for which his mother reminded him his aunt would be in attendance. He found it difficult to believe he'd somehow been even smaller than he was today. And finally, the only adult jewelry he'd ever worn until last night, the two artifacts of their union tied together with a snip of fishing line. Disbelief gnawed over him. How he'd picked these out with such pride and candor, such deliberation when he finally accepted his life would have and never would again be as full as it was without Stimpy in it. Perhaps the only time in his life he'd felt so ecstatic and terrified at once, assured Stimpy would agree to become his for good, yet, simultaneously gripped with the threat of rejection that had cast its plague over every other step in his journey. How such a small earthly metal object could carry with it such incredible power and history. Memories filled his senses, the smell of the store where he'd purchased the rings, the carefully planned but ultimately scrapped proposal in favor of a more organic approach, Stimpy's lovely green eyes looking at him and nothing and no one else in that gorgeous moment just before and just after he said his "Yes", no wait, how he'd told Ren nothing would make him happier and if only Ren knew how much his heart had wished for this, the weekend of bliss that followed their engagement, right up to their municipality wedding set between small claims and traffic court, Stimpy dressed to the nines on the courthouse steps beaming after the judge had announced them officially documented family. It wasn't painful last night, when he was mixed up in the mania of instant gratification and fast-cash scheming. But now, cradling the rings in his fingers, feeling their figurative and literal weight in his grip, a sadness crept through his spine.

"I know it doesn't mean we're not together, ya know. I'm not that dumb, Ren."

Stimpy had caught him poring over their marital bands.

"I know you know that," rolled Ren's eyes with some poorly hidden embarrassment.

What Stimpy didn't know, or maybe he did by now, was how petty and careless Ren could be about pretty careful things. Stimpy knew Ren had collected these items to take the the dank and derelict pawn shop they'd visited with curbside finds many times before. Stimpy knew the sedan needed a new alternator and battery. Stimpy knew this was yet another lean yet temporary period in their timeline, bookended by Ren's gainful employment and his supplemental stints as seamstress, cook, or courier to make ends meet until their refrigerator and wallets could fatten up. What Stimpy didn't know was that Ren planned to ignore their car's mechanical needs, and was actually going to march those dollars right into the seedy betting parlor next door while Stimpy remained transfixed on shelves of abandoned memories in the pawn shop. Stimpy didn't know any of that as he looked over at Ren from across the cabin, understanding and love in his eyes overtaking his gloomy countenance. Ren felt rotten to the core, wondered if Stimpy could see the slime leaking from his orifices or smell the decay emanating from his soul. He was reminded why, as he clutched the rings, why he had been so apprehensive to ask Stimpy to be his, in the first place. Stimpy was pure. Stimpy was whole. Dumb as paint, but the truest he would ever meet and have the privilege to be loved by. Ren always contended he himself was deep down no good, nowhere near decent enough, and it was only a matter of time before the cat figured that out for himself. But no matter how many times Ren spoonfed him the sour fodder that was his true self, Stimpy never balked. Only wrapped his arms and tenderness more tightly around the broken dog, mending his heart with unconditional uninhibited adoration. It was beyond anything Ren could convince himself he deserved. Ren's eyes lowered to his knees as he sank back in his seat, envelope of trinkets tinkling in his lap.

The still moment was broken by some distant hollers and honks, which dominoed toward their little red car stuck on the bridge. It must have started up ahead at the stalled vehicle, one irate commuter finally snapping the herd into heated frenzy, concentrated frustration no longer containable for the hoarde of lives delayed by a singular disruptive variable blocking natural order. Reframed in Ren's mind at least, had this traffic dalliance not thwarted his path, he would at this very moment very likely be in no better financial shape. A betting voucher wealthier maybe, but spiritually poorer for certain. Horns blared around them, for no purpose other than for motorists to vent their disgust. The noisy exchange layered rage on rage fruitlessly in the concrete and iron colony. Ren threw back his head and rubbed his face with both hands, then returned all shiny treasures to envelope with a defeated chuckle.

"Too bad we can't turn around now, huh?" he shook his ears.

"Ren."

"Yeah."

"Ren, we ... I don't think we can go back."

"I know that, I just said eet."

"I mean ... Ren ..."

"You're een some kinda mood today."

Just then flashing DOT lights beaconing from the front of the jam caught Ren's glance, the heroes of disabled vehicles had arrived!

"Yeah now wee're talkeen!"

"Ren, you're going to be a dad," blurted his passenger.

The heart can only beat so hard and so fast. As long as it's attached to its host. In Ren's case, it fell through his ass past the leather and steel and machinery and asphalt and rebar, plopping heavily into the brown water and sunk straight to the planet's center. He froze. He repressed urges to vomit and cry and scream. Stimpy panted as quietly as he could, he himself looked ill for having just dropped such a revelation. Ren tried to make some sounds with his parched mouth but tongue and vocal chords were petrified in place. Stimpy's ears lowered and nose dropped. He couldn't quite gage Ren's reaction or his own for that matter.

Ren could only emit a confused whining sigh, inflected for confirmation. Stimpy gave a single assuring nod. Their mouths hung open. Time meant nothing. The chorus of horns and yells ceased for them alone. Nothing else mattered.

"Like right, right now?" Ren finally squeaked, grabbing at his own gut, pointing to Stimpy's belly with his eyes.

"Uh huh," Stimpy delicately placed his gloved paw over his own tummy, which looked very much the way it always had, though it was very much not the way it always had been.

Ren had forgotten to breathe until his lungs autonomously forced a choke of fresh oxygen back into his body. The exhale pinkened his sclera and flared his nostrils and yielded the ugliest sob from his rattling chest. Fat hot teardrops rolled from his eyes. His nose leaked down his upper lip. His hands grabbed at the air aimlessly. The weight of a strange and fraught lifetime pressed upon his temples, rendering him absolutely bewildered in body and mind.

"So, you're really upset, huh Ren? I'll understand if you'll wanna move on and-"

"HUH?" Ren's bloodshot eyes shot upward.

"Well it's just that, I know this is a lot to put on you and all, I just, I wasn't ready to say goodbye is all," Stimpy whispered holding back his own tears.

"Jesus Christ, ees that really what you theenk of me?!" Ren wailed unabashedly, his voice breaking between gags.

Maybe Stimpy really had sized him up for who he was, afterall. Maybe Stimpy had always known. But the notion that Stimpy did not see his own worth beyond convenience broke something in Ren he didn't know was there. It pierced Ren. He clutched his chest, feeling as if applying pressure was the only thing that would stave off implosion.

"Well you're crying Ren!"

"So are you!"

Gates finally broken, Stimpy began sobbing freely, flooding the passenger seat.

"You're sure?" Ren's hands wrung.

"Uh-huh. I went to the doctor three days ago. You're, uh, you're gonna get a bill. I'm sorry, Ren."

"NO!"

Ren ripped off his seatbelt and climbed over the middle console, wriggling himself between Stimpy's thighs on his knees.

"Whoa hey hey! Get a room!" shouted the car beside them.

"Mind your own business pal, thees is an emergency!" Ren returned, trying not to scream into Stimpy's face as he cupped it in his palms.

Ren ran his hands down Stimpy's cheeks, wiping his tears away. He coasted them down Stimpy's shoulders to his breast and over the sweet little pudge of his belly, caressing it gingerly as if the most exquisite treasure in the world. He pressed his forehead against Stimpy's and continued crying until he'd wept himself dry.

"Steempy, I've nayver, I've nayver wanted anybodies as badly as I want you right now, een every way."

"So you're happy?"

"I don't theenk there's words, Steempy baby."

It was so infrequent Ren called him that. Stimpy swooned. If ever he so desperately needed Ren to reveal his affectionate side, it was right here and now. They embraced and held each other tight, not wanting the moment to end.

"Steempson?"

"Yes?"

"I loave you. I've ... always loaved you."

Ren picked up the envelope and pulled out the rings, freeing them from the cordage. He put his band back on, then took Stimpy's hand to replace the ring to its rightful home.

"Are you sure, Ren?"

"Everytheeng's deefferent now, Steempson."

A horn blared behind them. They'd not noticed traffic had begun breaking up, the disabled car was now off to the side, and vehicles began pressing forward to bottleneck past the obstruction.

"Let's go scumbag!" someone yelled.

"Eat my deeck!" Ren screeched back at no one in particular, stretching back over to the driver's seat.

The car lurched forward, in line for a one-lane merge ahead.

"Take thees," Ren gestured, holding out the St. Michael medallion to Stimpy.

"What's that for?"

"To keep you and the baby safe," Ren pronounced.

"But you don't follow all that religious stuff?"

"It's seemboleec. Plus, eet's thee one thing I can pass on, ya know, besides my dasheeng good looks."

As they inched past the stalled vehicle now pulled over, Ren leaned out his window and addressed the driver who was sitting against the guardrail.

"Thanks a meellion, buddy, I owe ya one!"

"Hey fuck you asshole!" retorted the distressed mororist.

"I mean it! Fuck you vayry much too!" Ren laughed, speeding free of the auto tangle at last.

The gold teeth and bracelet and coins didn't fetch much, just enough to minimally feed the gas tank for job-searching the next day and procure for Stimpy a great big porgie from the fish market as a celebratory dinner. Ren even purchased some dill and lemons and garlic and herbed butter to fashion a savory sauce for the panfried delicacy he served Stimpy that evening. He waited on Stimpy hand-and-foot, brimming with a newfound exhilaration he wished he could bottle and dose every day for the rest of his life. Stimpy was not one to shirk his contributions to the home, and helped Ren scrub the pans and dry the plates after they'd picked every bit of meat from the fishbones together. They spent the evening talking of cribs and formula and parenting styles and potential colleges and bibs and names that would suit either a girl or boy manx-chihuahua hybrid. They were inseparable through the wee hours, cuddled close in bed, staring through their ceiling together upward to the stars above, excitedly imagining and planning every milestone ahead.

"Are you scared too?" Ren would nudge ever so often.

"Not as long as you're here," Stimpy would reassure.

"Let's play ag-ayn."

"Okay Renny. 'A', for ... Alton or Alina."

"Hmmm, Alina Höek, ok, that could grow on me. Now 'B', 'B' for Balthazar or Belsita?"

"Always with the classical names huh?" Stimpy teased. "Ya know they might call him Balls for short, or ta' tease 'em, you know how kids are."

"Don't I though! Ah, when you're right, you're right."

This continued on until it was Ren's turn to pick 'R' names.

"Dont even suggest that, I don't like eet!"

"Oh come now, if he's a he and you're his daddy, he'll be Ren Junior!"

"Keed's gotta have hees own indenteety. We can geeve him my meeddle name, but that's eet."

"You're gonna be such a good father, ya know that, Renny?"

Ren buried his face into Stimpy's belly, hiding his big idiot grin from view of his beloved moron. He sure hoped Stimpy was right. He pressed ear to abdomen, hearing the sounds of dinner but pretending he heard the teensiest little heartbeat behind the digestion. So much of his identity, within the last twelve hours, was now primed on slashing fear from his quintessence and burning bravery into its place. Even if it took some pretending to achieve mastery, something had ignited in him today. Perhaps the flirtation of chance with destiny had reformed him. He would do everything he could to be the better version of himself from here on, no matter how hard he had to fight his demons. With his cheek snug against Stimpy's belly, he talked to the little life inside telepathically, convincing it that it was in good hands so long as Ren Höek walked this world. He would bet every last material good he owned that the baby answered him back, forging a lifelong connection. He was finally holding on to letting go. He felt like the baby was already in his arms, looking up at him as the great protector he knew himself to be. It was bliss. Pure unequivocal bliss.

"I can't wait to meet you, Reecardo."

"I like that, Ren. I like that a lot."

#ren and stimpy #ren & stimpy #rempy #my crap art #character dialogue #one shot #ricky hoek #stimpson j cat #ren hoek #mild language #teen and up audiences #story time

[hummingbird-of-light]

Twenty-second story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: Never Trust A Plant

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Character(s): Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, Pavel Chekov, James T. Kirk

Relationship(s): Montgomery "Scotty" Scott & Pavel Chekov

Rating: T

Words: 800

Prompt: Black Eye

Warnings: Beating, Major Character Injury, Dangerous Plants, Mild Language

(You can also find this story on AO3)

~ Never Trust A Plant ~

It was just a regular away mission. The crew had been advised by the captain to take a look around and report whatever seemed important.

Montgomery Scott wasn't sure why he was part of the mission - maybe it was in case they found some technical devices or commodities - but he sure enjoyed walking around on solid ground.

Aye, of course, he loved his silver lady, but from time to time, he also was happy about a wee bit of fresh air.

And this planet seemed just perfect. No dangerous animals or hints of other civilization. Just gorgeous flowers and jungle-like surroundings.

It would be great a great place for shore leave.

"Look at this plant, Mr. Scott. It looks stunning!"

The Scotsman couldn't help but smile when he heard the familiar accent coming from behind him.

He turned around to see Chekov, who was accompanying him, looking at a bright and colorful flower in awe. It was yellow and red and purple and blue - so many various colors mixed together.

"Aye, laddie. It really is gorgeous," Scotty agreed, however, a moment later, his heart sank, when Chekov knelt down next to the plant.

"Maybe I should take one with me for Su-"

The young navigator didn't get to finish his sentence for suddenly pollen sprayed out of the flower's bell jar, straight into his face.

"Chekov!" Scotty exclaimed and within seconds he was kneeling next to the blond man who had collapsed onto the ground.

The navigator just stared at the Scotsman with empty eyes as this one cupped his face in between his hands.

"Talk to me, laddie! Come on!"

Fear filled Scotty's voice and after pulling his protégé away from the dangerous plant, he quickly reached for his communicator.

"Scott here! We need immediate medical attention for Mr. Chekov! He was infected with some... some kind of pollen! Hurry!"

He put the device back and concentrated on Chekov, who was now lying in his arms.

There was still not the slightest reaction in his eyes and for a moment Scotty feared that the young man might no longer be with him, but when he placed his fingers on Chekov's neck, he found his pulse.

And it suddenly accelerated rapidly.

Scotty didn't know how it happened, but suddenly Chekov blinked jerkily and only a moment later the navigator lunged at the engineer.

The Scotsman let out a surprised cry and he could barely react before Chekov's fist hit his face.

Scotty cursed inwardly and narrowed his eyes.

Damn, the lad had a solid punch!

What the hell was wrong with him? What had those pollen done to him?

When he opened his eyes again, Scotty caught a glimpse of Chekov's face.

There was anger and aggression in the contours, but not only that. It looked... contorted in pain. The lad was in pain!

"Chekov! Chekov, stop it, laddie!"

Scotty managed to intercept the next blow and he sat up. But Chekov couldn't be stopped.

He struck the engineer again and again and this one fought back as best he could. But his options were limited.

He couldn't hurt Chekov! He couldn't hit him back!

All he could do was parry the blows and beg Chekov to calm down.

Somehow he finally managed to push the young blond to the ground and keep him at bay.

"Scotty! What are you doing?"

Scotty's head jerked up when he heard the familiar voice of Jim.

The captain, who had a medical team in tow, stared at his chief engineer in disbelief.

It was only when he saw how wildly and uncontrollably Chekov was twisting back and forth and associated it with Scotty's injured face that he realized what was going on.

"What-?"

"The pollen did something to him! He attacked me! But he's in pain too. We have to help him!"

It wasn't long before a hypo was pressed into Chekov's neck and the navigator calmed down.

Scotty plopped down on the floor, exhausted, and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair.

His face hurt incredibly, but he didn't care at that moment. He just hoped that Chekov would be helped quickly.

~

Chekov only woke up two days later, after a cure had been found, but he was not alone in his sick room.

Scotty sat beside his bed and held his hand, giving him a smile.

It took a long moment, but suddenly Chekov's eyes widened as he remembered what had happened.

He put a hand over his mouth, staring into Scotty's face, which was still marked by a black eye.

He quietly mumbled something in Russian that Scotty didn't understand, and then he began to apologize several times.

But the Scotsman didn't take offense. He was just glad that Chekov was all right again. That was all that mattered.

#bad things happen bingo #prompt: black eye #fandom: star trek aos #fanfiction #montgomery scott #pavel chekov #james t kirk #whump #beating #major character injury #dangerous plants #mild language

[dnofsunshine]

Digimon Secret Santa Exchange 2023: Don't blame me (you started it)

Kuga Yuuya never texted her first. Until he did.

Written for @hallowed-nebulae for the @digisecretsanta 2023 exchange! :3

a/n: i'm your secret santa and (like i said on ao3 lol) i'm not entirely familiar with the digimon world series, or i wasn't until recently, so i hope i did your two favorites, Rina & Yuuya, justice!! i've enjoyed the gameplay so far of Re:digitize Decode and i enjoyed writing these two. i hope you have a safe and merry Christmas, and happy holidays!! <333 :D

Oh, and here's my Digimon discord server if you wanna yell abt digimon with us!

Read on AO3! || Read below the cut:

Kuga Yuuya did not texted her first.

It wasn’t something subjective—it was a simple, known fact! She wasn’t sure Yuuya texted anyone first. Often, when Rina texted him, Yuuya left her (very cruelly) on read. Sometimes he left her on delivered. Which was like, extremely rude, thank you very much.

(Granted, none of those messages were because of actual emergencies, but still. Her memes were nonetheless very important and warranted a response. But Yuuya had ignored her. Because of course he did. The jerk.)

So, naturally, when Rina’s phone vibrated and pinged, and Yuuya’s contact lit up her screen, Rina gaped. She blinked, surprised, and it took several moments to register that oh yeah, she should read the message.

Hey, Yuuya had written plainly. Jeesh, and he called everyone else boring.

Yeah, the world had totally ended. Sometime in the last few minutes, the world had ended and Rina had died and gone to an afterlife where apparently Kuga Yuuya texted her first.

She debated on calling him to see what was up, but that ran the risk of scaring him off because he didn’t even text, let alone call; so Rina leaned back in her chair and did what she did best.

Rina: hey!!!! ┌( ＾◡＾ )┘whatcha up to???

Yuuya: Studying. You use a lot of exclamation points, Rina-san.

Rina: and u text like the heir of the gigo company lol

Yuuya: Is… that a good or a bad thing?

Rina blinked again, her lips curving into a frown. She narrowed her eyes at her screen suspiciously, and who could blame her? Since when did Yuuya care about her opinion of him?

Rina: not bad!!! was just kiddin lol (≧_≦)

Yuuya: Okay.

She sent him another text that mostly consisted of emotes and exclamation points (perhaps proving his point), and this time, it took a while for Yuuya to respond. At least a good ten minutes.

Yuuya: What about you? What’re you up to?

Okay. Wow. She peeked out her bedroom window—yep, still snowing. Which meant it was still mid-December and she was still in Japan. Maybe. Probably. If she wasn’t… did it snow in the afterlife? To what afterlife had she been sent, for Yuuya to not only respond but ask about her in return? Smug, snooty Yuuya? What the hell was even happening? She couldn’t even begin to know the answer to that. 

Instead, she answered Yuuya.

Rina: just chillin!!! not really doing much haha it’s boring w/o V.V. here tbh

Yuuya: I see.

Another pause followed. Rina stood from her chair and made her way to her bed to sprawl out, phone in hand, as she awaited the continuation of their conversation. She got bored waiting on minute three and decided she couldn’t handle the suspense anymore.

Rina: so whats up???

Yuuya: I’m studying.

Rina: well duh u said that already i meant why did u text me

Yuuya: You text me all the time.

Rina: yeah! but u like never answer soooooo

Yuuya: Sorry.

Oh good god, okay. Yuuya, apologizing? Prideful, arrogant Yuuya? Maybe she’d gone to some alternate dimension—somewhere that wasn’t the digital world—where everything was the same except for one fifteen-year-old Kuga Yuuya.

She frowned again, this time in contemplation. As she pondered how to respond, she kicked her feet idly against her bed, tapping the back of her phone case if only to keep her fingers moving.

She wondered absentmindedly if his dad scolded him or something. From what she knew, Kuga Kenzou was more insufferable than Yuuya—which, of course, made sense considering he was Yuuya’s father—so it wasn’t much of a stretch to say he wasn’t all that great of a parent.

Her chest ached inexplicably at the thought and her frown deepened.

Rina: is ur dad being a bitch

Yuuya: Huh?

Rina: ya know ur dad is he being a bitch lol

Yuuya: I don’t see what he has to do with the conversation.

Then, after about a minute:

Yuuya: Father is always being a bitch.

Rina: lol!! i believe it honestly

And because Rina was a gremlin with no sense of self-control: 

Rina: his ass must really hurt from the stick shoved in it

Yuuya: Lol.

Rina blinked once more in surprise and then grinned at her screen because this was another new thing—Yuuya laughing at a joke? A joke she made? She didn’t even know Yuuya could laugh, much less over text. She didn’t know he even had a sense of humor.

They spent the next hour or so texting, with Rina sending memes (the normal amount) and emotes (also the normal amount) and Yuuya telling her that it was, in fact, not the normal amount. Eventually, the time between Yuuya’s responses grew longer and longer, and Rina assumed that he’d averted his full attention back to studying.

Rina: ur a fun texter lol

Rina: not as fun as me obviously but still fun just sayin

She sent it without really expecting a response right away, but she was surprised yet again when the reply came in only a few minutes.

Yuuya: Wow. One person approves of my texting habits.

Rina laughed out loud. This was a fun side of Yuuya to see.

(And no, it wasn’t because she felt a little warm inside that he seemed to trust her enough to make jokes with her.)

(She didn’t feel warm inside at all.)

(Yuuya was simply growing on her.)

(Like a fungus.)

Yuuya: Is this supposed to be an honor or a shame, since the person is Rina-san?

Her laugh quickly turned into a scandalized gasp as she stared down at her phone in offense. No, she changed her mind. Yuuya wasn’t growing on her.

“Rude,” she said aloud as if he could hear her, without any hint of fondness in her voice. None at all. "Yer such a punk."

Oh, who was she kidding—she sent him memes, shitposts, and festive, holiday-themed selfies every day after that for the rest of the month. If he was pissed about it, well, he texted her first.

#digimonsecretsanta2023 #digimon world series #digimon world re:digitize decode #kuga yuuya #shinomiya rina #hallowed-nebulae #drabble #digimon secret santa exchange #my fics #my writing #digimon fanfic #oh look a digimon fic without takeru??? i am capable hehehe #digimon story series #fluff and humor #fluff #texting fic #mild language

[somewhat-insane]

Shadows of the Beach: Chapter One

(Here's the masterpost.)

.

Remnants of His Past

Pairing: Ao Lie/Sun Wukong/Macaque

Rating: Teen and up Audiences (for mild language)

Tags: Playful Banter, Flashbacks, Teasing, Awkwardness, Slow Burn, Background Freenoodles

A/N: This is my first time posting any of my fics on Tumblr so the formatting may be a bit off, feel free to read it on Ao3 instead if that makes you more comfortable ;3.

Summary:

As if the entire situation with Azure Lion hadn't been world-shattering (quite literally) enough, Wukong gains information that sends him spiraling.

What is one to do when it turns out your best friend/kind of homoerotic lover didn't actually die and now you have to introduce him to your ex-best friend/other kind of homoerotic lover?

Visits to Pigsy's noodles had recently become relatively routine for Sun Wukong. 

It was good eating, that he already knew ever since Pigsy took over the shop, but before he had always just had them delivered (Tang, he remembered, had briefly done the deliveries for Pigsy in turn for free noodles, which explained why Pigsy had yet to kick the “freeloader” out, that and, at some point along the line, they had gotten “married” (it wasn’t really a wedding at all, not legally anyway, but they considered eachother married and that was enough for them)… which Wukong, having known them in their past lives was… very conflicted about.) He could just make noodles with his powers but there was something nostalgic about the taste and smell of Pigsy’s noodles that reminded Wukong of deep laughter around the campfire and calloused, hard-working hands that meant well despite their owner’s arrogance and aggression. 

Even before he and MK had officially met (or before MK had learned Wukong had been watching him which, okay, now that he mentioned it, it did sound kind of creepy,) Wukong would order and set the address as some random abandoned house or temple where he would utilize his 72 transformations to retrieve it. 

Or, alternatively, he would send a clone out into the city to pick it up, but that was riskier as his clones had something of a habit of getting hit by cars and mortals weren’t exactly used to having the person they hit with their car poof into magical smoke. Perhaps he should’ve expected embodiments of his centuries-old magic might not be entirely “up to date” with modern-day civilization, especially back when he was hiding out like a hermit. 

Comparatively, when he had it delivered, after having figured out how phones worked, the hardest part was always hiding his tail. Which normally wasn’t that much of an issue but…

Look, it wasn’t his fault he got so excited at the idea of food! It probably made it worse that the cooking really did remind him of when Zhu Bajie had finally gotten the hang of it. A little more modern though but not to the point of the frozen mass-produced meat that the rest of the city used. No, Pigsy still made all of his meals by hand, the difference coming from the more modernized techniques people had learned to use to draw out the flavor more. In some cases, outside of Pigsy’s Noodles, what people do to enhance their food was borderline poisonous to the human body but if Wukong had learned anything over the years it was that humans valued very little more than money. They’re not the only species that eat what is essentially poison to them. Like, koalas for instance. None of that affected him though, not being a particularly big fan of cooked food (with the exception of Pigsy’s noodles), as he was a monkey, and he was immortal, so he didn’t really care.

He had started actually going into the shop after the scroll incident, partially because he was growing closer to the crew, and–even if the memories still made him fidgety around them–he had started seeing them as their own people and not the friends he used to be acquainted with. Beyond that, his time in the scroll had kicked up some old feelings inside of him that he didn’t exactly want to face on his own. Not that he would talk about his feelings or anything–that wasn’t exactly his style–but his thoughts weren’t as loud when he surrounded himself with small talk and idle banter which came surprisingly easy when it came to the crew. It allowed him to fall into the familiar pattern of ignoring festering problems until they blew up in his face.

Perhaps that’s why he tended to turn everything into a joke or a game, it made it easier to ignore everything.

Eh, he wasn’t going to think too much about it right now.

As he flew over the water on his cloud, he reminded himself that, this time, as he was headed to the small hole-in-the-wall establishment, he was not coming for noodles and banter.

Roughly half an hour earlier, MK had relayed a message to him via telepathic communication (he didn’t get a nosebleed this time! … though he did stub his toe while distracted.) Apparently, the nerd- er, Tang (he had promised himself he would start actually calling them by their names… no matter how much inner turmoil it caused him) had a theory he wanted Wukong’s opinion on… or something like that, admittedly MK’s explanation was rather vague which was… out of character for the boy who had seemingly picked up his father’s tendency to ramble. 

Again, Wukong decided not to think too much about it. 

Having to talk to Tang about theories and the like was something he was used to as Tang had jumped at the opportunity to gain more insight into the Journey to the West through Wukong’s own experiences but this seemed… different. Something in the way MK seemed more… hesitant made him uneasy.

This unease was only heightened when he dispelled his Nimbus and landed in front of the building, only to walk in and see the entire group (Pigsy, Tang, MK, Mei, Sandy, and even Mo) there waiting expectantly for him. 

Now, he knew it wasn’t exactly uncommon for them to be there all at once since they seemed to all have been friends long before Wukong became a present being in their dynamic, and group meet-ups had become a semi-regular occurrence for the crew after the scroll incident; they all tried to find times when everyone was free and would hang out over a movie or a barbeque, talking and laughing and digging up old wounds because Sandy’s soft smile reminds Wukong of the way Sha Wujing would encourage them all, Pigsy’s laugh is a bit too similar to Zhu Bajie’s - a hearty sound Wukong would never forget for the joy it stirred inside of him - and Tang seemed to have Tripitaka’s tendency to fidget when nervous, but it wasn’t exactly common either.

All eyes turned to him making Wukong shift uncomfortably with the attention as he chuckled nervously, “Uh, heh, is this an intervention or something?”

Idly he was reminded of the scolding looks he would get from the Jade Emperor or Guanyin when he had done something bad, but he also recognized the looks as something more akin to what he received from his master, a pitying look. A concerned look.

…

Was this an intervention!?

MK, being the absolutely amazing person he is, offered a soft–if not slightly pitying–smile in response to his mentor’s joke but the expression didn’t reach his eyes, and his brows were furrowed slightly, almost as if in thought.

After a moment, his strained smile falls away and he averts his eyes to a random spot on the ground, idly fiddling with his keychain, the soft jingle it brought being the only noise throughout the room.

Wukong’s smile also falls in response to the absence of MK’s and he sits down at the counter with a rare serious expression on his face.

“Alright, what’s the bad news? We got another big bad headed our way?” he asks, tail flicking anxiously as he studies everyone’s expressions, trying to gauge what could be happening.

The group shared an apprehensive look before Tang sighed, opening and closing his mouth as if at a loss for words–or afraid to speak the ones he did have–before he nervously slid a scroll toward Wukong. Wukong raised a brow, unfurling the scroll and letting his eyes skim over the contents. 

Contrary to popular belief, he could read, he wrote a letter and made that game to teach MK about the importance of setting up a counter attack instead of just using brute force, but now, he was almost convinced otherwise.

His brows furrowed as he looked over it again and again, not believing what he saw on the page.

Finally, he resigns himself to the reality he was being exposed to and his jaw clenches as he looks over at the others with stern, searching eyes, each of them waiting with bated breath for his reaction, which luckily wasn’t as immediately explosive as they expected.

Immediantely being the key word there.

~

Wukong thought he was done. 

He thought he was done with his buried feelings about his past being dug up and shoved in his face like his old laundry when Macaque finds it on the ground. (As much as he enjoyed being on speaking terms with Macaque again, he could’ve lived without the other constantly berating his slobish lifestyle.) 

As soon as he confirmed what he was reading with the others, he had burst out of the shop (quite literally as he had broke a hole through the wall,) and headed back toward Flower Fruit Mountain.

Logically, Wukong knew the peace he had found amongst MK and the others wouldn’t last forever and he would have to continue facing his inner turmoils just like MK and Sandy had been helping him to and how life had been pushing him to. Being immortal and all, things were bound to resurface sooner or later, but for crying out loud life could’ve at least given him a month without a mental breakdown!

The fly back to Flower Fruit Mountain was the same as it always had been, though a large chunk of the mountain, along with his hut and most of his treasure heap, had been taken out during the battle with Azure. While inconvenient, the situation wasn’t something Wukong couldn’t adapt to, a small cabin now sat on the beach of the island, just beyond the treeline, as a testament to that. 

For the second time that day, Wukong found himself dispelling his cloud and landing, this time on sand, stumbling a bit amidst his urgency. When the sand that had been kicked up from his landing settled and he regained his balance, he prepared to dart into the cabin but paused, seeing a figure near his hut, shadow magic dancing around them as they instructed two others seemingly born of the shadows to do… something. Wukong couldn’t really tell from here.

The being was clearly aware of Wukong’s presence as three of his six ears were angled towards him, presumably listening to what he was doing but too preoccupied to give him their entire attention just yet.

“Macaque?” Wukong called, hesitantly moving towards him, catching the attention of the two shadow creatures, who Wukong vaguely remembered as Rumble and Savage, “what are you doing here-”

Wukong is interrupted by a sigh from Macaque, who still hasn’t turned around to look at him, making Rumble and Savage chuckle to each other before being shut up, presumably with a glare from Macaque who finally turns around to face Wukong with a forced smirk, “putting the finishing touches your cabin like I agreed I would. Or have you already forgotten? I’m not surprised, you’ve never really been able to fit much up there,” Macaque then turns his head towards Rumble and Savage who seem amused at the interaction, “a moment of silence, please, for this poor fool’s intelligence.”

Rumble and Savage chuckle once again and this time, Macaque allows it, looking at Wukong with that stupid smug face he makes when he believes he’s getting under Wukong’s skin. And he is, because he knows exactly how.

But he doesn’t have time for that right now. So instead of making a snarky remark in turn, he takes a deep breath in through his nose, the voice of his master echoing through his head as he urges himself to calm down.

“No violence, Monkey.”

“Anger will not serve you.”

“Caution, Wukong, listen to what is being said.”

That last one… wasn’t his master.

The memory of Ao Lie’s voice urging him to wait and listen before striking gave birth to a fresh wave of urgency in Wukong’s soul, but he paused to remember the context of his words…

~

“We have no reason to trust that flea-ridden pest!” Zhu Bajie’s gruff voice had rang out around the campsite, grating on Wukong’s already frayed nerves, “one should trust not the being who needs to be kept on a leash!”

Wukong’s eye twitched in irritation as the only nerve left that seemed to be tying him to his sanity was struck and he grit his teeth, finally dropping down from the tree he had been hiding in, “that ‘leash’ is the very reason one should trust me you overgrown hog!”

“Zhu Bajie, Sun Wukong-” their master had tried to intervene, only to easily be talked over by the more boisterous pig.

“My words weren’t directed toward you, runt,” the pig spat toward Wukong.

“Your words are unfounded, swine,” Wukong grit out with clenched fists, willing himself not to attack, the only thing detering him being the threat of the golden fillet. His “leash” as the swine so distastefully called it.

A hand on his shoulder made Wukong jolt slightly, turning his searing gaze toward the person next to him, expecting to see Sha Wujing, only to falter when instead he saw Ao Lie, the white horse dragon he hadn’t yet become well acquainted with.

“Caution, Wukong, listen to what is being said. I do not believe you are hearing the words for all they are,” he spoke, voice gentle and melodic, a nice change from the gruff sound of the pig, “I should suggest patience.”

The words confused Wukong and he frowned, “what do you imply?”

“Perhaps do not listen to what the swine says, but why he says it.”

Wukong’s frown only deepened, “I know why he says it-”

“No, my friend, you think you know why he says such things. You take his aggression at surface level, but I find aggression is rarely mere aggression,” Ao Lie pauses, adding with a playful smirk, “unless the aggressor is an immortal stone monkey with no regard for those outside of his kingdom.”

Sun Wukong’s first instinct is to quip back defensively in response to that last part, but as the first part registers he pauses, and he wrinkles his nose in confusion and distaste, “you speak words of a fool, aggression is nothing but.”

“He is afraid, my friend. And I find I can’t blame him, your legacy proceeds you,” Ao Lie hums, “perhaps the real fool would be one who so easily trusts a man known for his lack of empathy towards anyone but himself.”

A smirk finds its way onto Wukong’s lips, “so you call yourself a fool?”

“One finds it bold to assume I trust you,” Ao Lie replies easily, unaffected by Wukong’s words. 

The monkey watched with wide, curious eyes as Ao Lie moved to sit with their master, easily starting up idle chatter. 

With a frown, Wukong’s gaze trailed over to the swine who was being calmed down by Sha Wujing. The monkey’s brow furrowing in thought.

Trust… it’s been a long time since he’s had to, or wanted to for that matter, earn trust. He usually just scared people into submission. He hasn’t needed to work for trust since…

Since, well, him…

~

Wukong let out his breath.

Listen… what else was being said, what was Wukong not hearing?

Macaque shouldn’t be afraid… he couldn’t be.

What were his exact words before he defaulted to mockery?

“putting the finishing touches your cabin like I agreed I would. Or have you already forgotten?”

Of course he hadn’t forgotten! When your ex-best friend agrees to help build you a temporary cabin it’s not exactly something that just slips your mind. Did Macaque…

Did Macaque really believe he was that unimportant to him?

“I didn’t forget,” Wukong finally said, trying to keep his tone as even as possible to not come off as defensive, the response making Macaque raise a brow, obviously not what he expected, “I was going to ask, what are you doing here alone? Wasn’t Sandy supposed to help you finish up?”

Macaque looks taken aback for a moment, even Rumble and Savage’s expressions fall. After a moment, Macaque pulls himself from his shock with a scoff and looks away, crossing his arms, “he said one of his cats got sick and he’s busy taking care of it.”

Wukong makes a small, “oh” noise and is about to consider going to check on the big guy (he’s been helping Wukong and Macaque a lot when it comes to the “not killing each other” stuff) but then he remembers what he was doing in the first place, “oh, right!”

“Huh?” Before Macaque can even ask what Wukong’s talking about, the golden furred monkey had darted into the cabin, leaving nothing but kicked up sand in his wake. Macaque coughs and waves it out of his face, grimacing as he takes note of how much got in his fur.

“Damn you Wukong…” Macaque growls, turning to Rumble and Savage, “you two finish up here, I’ll go make sure he’s not doing anything stupid.”

The two shadow beings give him a mock salute and Macaque levels them with a knowing glare, “and don’t break anything.”

They nod nervously, sighing in relief once Macaque disappears into a shadow to follow Wukong. Silently, they look at each other, mischievous grins growing across their faces as they agreed that they were, indeed, going to break something.

Macaque uses Wukong’s shadow to follow him into the spare room where the remnants of the treasure hoard were stored. Most of it was stuff that couldn’t be destroyed, but there were some nick-nacks here and there that, despite all odds, survived with minimal damage. There was a monkey cop figure that had its face melted off that Wukong insisted on keeping though. Macaque still regularly had nightmares of that thing coming alive to murder him.

Wukong sifts throught the piles, panic obvious in the way he moves, seemingly searching for something.

Brows furrowing in confusion and possibly slight concern, Macaque emerges from the shadows and crosses his arms, “what’s gotten into you, Wukong?”

Said monkey’s ear twitches but he doesn’t respond immediately, diving into another pile. Macaque is about to say something again before Wukong pops back out, tail flicking in irritation, seemingly not being able to find what he was looking for. With a sigh, Wukong looks up at Macaque, eyes stern but glimmering with concern, “Ao Lie might be alive.” Macaque has to take a second to digest this information, eyes going wide, “... w h a t.”

next>>

#lego monkie kid #lmk #ao lie #lmk ao lie #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #ao lie lmk #ao lie monkie kid #wukong #monkey king #tripitaka #tang sanzang #Ao Lie x Sun Wukong x Macaque #mild language #macaque #six eared macaque #lego macaque #lego monkey kid macaque #lego monkie kid macaque #lmk macaque #lmk six eared macaque #macaque lmk #macaque x wukong #monkie kid macaque #sun wukong x macaque #the six eared macaque #liu er mihou #lmk sun wukong #shadowpeach

[someheroescarryfloss]

lorne being an iconic king

#youtube #Angel #Lorne #Andy Hallett #I stumbled across this a little while ago! #My favorite character from the series! #Basically he's an empath demon from another dimension who can read peoples' destinies when they sing. #He actively flirts with EEEEVERYONE while seeming to date no one. #Aaand I think I unintentionally based Robert on him...at least in part. With the one-liners and the complete lack of shame. #The similarities pretty much end there really... #Ooc #Mild language #Mild violence

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Competition for a heart

Tagging: @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @jointhehunt67

If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, send me an ask or leave a comment on the fic.

Chapter 2

You sighed from your spot on the lounge as the argument downstairs grew in volume.  In response, you reached for the remote control and adjusted the volume on the television in order to drown out the noise.

Next to you, Natasha let out a groan of her own.  “You’d think that out of everyone, you’d be the angriest about this contest that the Greek Gods have planned for their champions especially considering you’re the prize.”

“Seeing as the topic has been brought up,” you ground out in a clipped tone, “I am furious about this competition although I’m not angry at all the gods.  I mean some of them were smart enough to say that they disagreed with this plan and for that, I respect them.  What I’m more annoyed at is the fact that Steve has essentially benched me for all missions until this competition is concluded.”

Wanda cleared her throat and pointed at the television, “You know, I didn’t think it was possible for me to hate Arthur Petrelli more than I did already.”

Wanda’s words brought you back to the present and you sent her a grateful smile for the change in topic.

“There is no way that there wasn’t something between those two,” you mused as Linderman spoke to Angela.

Nat scoffed, “No way.  The man is a master manipulator.  We saw that in season 1 after all,” she reminded you.

“I won’t argue that point,” Wanda interjected as she stretched, “but Linderman’s definitely much more of a gentleman when he and Angela are the only two in the room.”

You nodded in agreement, “Wanda’s right.  I mean, look how tender he is with her and he’s offering to use his powers of his own free will with no agenda.  Had he not said anything, his and Arthur’s plan could’ve gone off without a hitch.”

There was a creaking sound which caused you to look up at the ceiling as a vent opened and Clint climbed out of it.  He easily dropped down to the couch next to Nat and helped himself to some of the popcorn.

“So, what are you talking about?” He asked after he’d finished his mouthful of popcorn.

“Whether there was something between Linderman and Angela in Heroes,” you replied, gesturing at the TV.

“Oh, there absolutely was,” Clint agreed after he’d shoved another handful of popcorn in his mouth, “Remember that comment about her and Kaito?  I think it was in season 2 and I’m pretty sure it was Nathan that said it.  Angela has a way of drawing admiration and attention to her while Arthur seemed to thrive on fear and power.”

Nat threw her hands in the air in exasperation, “You lot are seeing what you want to see,” she muttered.

“NO!  HIRO!” You cried out at the end of the episode only to breath a sigh of relief once Ando reappeared and got him and Hiro away from Arthur.

Nat chuckled at your reaction and you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest as the episode finished.

“If those characters were real, I’d be the one kicking Arthur Petrelli’s ass,” you grumbled.

Wanda patted you on the arm, “I know.  I’d be helping,” she vowed.  Like you, one of her favourite characters was Peter and she hated how Arthur had treated him.

“Okay, then.  How would you defeat Arthur?  Remember, he can absorb any power through touch and Angela already tried to poison him, so he’d be expecting that.” Nat asked, cocking an eyebrow expectantly.

“I’d trap him in an illusion with his worst fear and remove his power that way.  Then I’d de age him for good measure and remove his memories,” Wanda replied, letting a bit of her magic jump between her palms.  Clearly her lessons with Loki were paying off.

“Good plan,” Clint nodded approvingly.

Nat turned to you and you were silent for a few moments.

“I’d lay a trail about a powerful artefact that enhances all powers,” you began “and I’d watch as he sacrificed the people closer to him to achieve this goal.  With a few words here and there, I’d gain an army myself and then when he came to collect the artefact, he’d find that it was powerful but instead of it enhancing the powers within the host, the artefact would absorb the powers and it would become stronger.  In those moments where he’s weakened, everyone who he discarded would retaliate against him and Arthur would be no more.  Especially if Sylar was there.”  You shuddered as you finished talking.  Sylar was one of those characters that scared you.

“Remind me never to make you mad,” Clint grinned, reaching to high five you.

After sending a concerned look in your direction, Wanda turned to Clint, “Did you overhear anything interesting when you were eavesdropping on the argument downstairs while you were in the vents?”

Sending an apologetic look in your direction, Clint answered her, “Not really.  Basically Tony, Thor, Bruce, and Loki are furious that you’ve been essentially benched.  Bucky and Steve are maintaining that it’s the safest option for you right now.  John Walker is being an absolute bastard…”

“As usual,” now it was Natasha’s turn to cross her arms over her chest.  You racked your brain trying to think of anyone from the Avengers Team or SHIELD who genuinely liked Walker.  No one came to mind.  It amazed you that he’d been chosen to be one of Apollo’s champions and you privately wondered how hard Apollo had hit his head before he’d decided to choose Walker.

“Scott’s been incredibly quiet and for him, that’s saying something.  I think he’s annoyed that he was nominated for this competition seeing as his relationship with Hope is just starting to get back on track but he doesn’t want to upset Aphrodite by refusing to participate.  Sam is outraged that he has been entered into this contest without his consent and he’s torn because he wants to please his benefactor as well, who just happens to be Aphrodite.”

Wanda grimaced.

“There was another man in that meeting.” Clint’s voice grew so quiet that you had to strain yourself to hear him, “It was John Wick.”

Nat went pale and she shifted uneasily, “What?”  Her voice was croaky and trembling, “What is he doing here?”

“Please tell me he’s not involved in this useless excuse of a competition too,” Wanda spat.

Clint flinched and he pressed his lips together, “I can’t do that.”

Your gaze flicked between Clint, Wanda, and Nat.  “I’ve heard the name before but that’s it.  Why are you so afraid of this man?”

It was Nat who eventually spoke and she was clearly reluctant to do so, “John Wick or Baba Yaga as he is known to some people around the world in certain circles is who HYDRA based the Winter Soldier off of.  The legend goes that he found out about this imitation and slaughtered an entire HYDRA base.  No one has ever been able to prove anything because it was all cleaned up before SHIELD got the first report.”

There was a hiss as the automatic doors to the lounge room opened and closed while you were absorbing the new information.

“That’s the problem with legends,” a gravelly voice spoke and you turned to the source of the new voice, “they get distorted with time.”

The speaker had dark brown hair which hung around his face, deep brown eyes and a beard and moustache that were the same colour as the hair that surrounded his face.  He had a slim build and was dressed in a suit and tie.  The speaker stood as tall as Steve and was slightly taller than Bucky. 

You noticed that the Avengers including Bucky, Loki, Scott, John Walker, and Sam were standing as far away from the new man as possible.  There was a look on Steve’s face that you couldn’t quite decipher as he began the introductions. 

“Clint, Natasha, Wanda, and (Name), this is John Wick and as per a request from Fury, he will be working closely alongside us as we attempt to get to the bottom of this contest as soon as possible.  Seeing as the contest is not something any of us want.”  Steve’s tone was brittle as he finished his speech.

“And yet when I mentioned that I could help end this contest quicker seeing as I’ve been chosen as the final prize for this contest, I was officially benched for some reason for all missions for the foreseeable future.” You remarked.

#mywriting #avengers x john wick crossover #greek gods champion au #greek mythology au #avengers x reader #avengers x you #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick au #heroes spoilers #female reader #mild language

[shuddervayne-plays]

Lackluster

Chapter 1: Uncovered

Genre: Science Fiction, Fantasy, Drama

Ralationships: Dottore/Reader

Warnings: Eventual Smut/Slow Burn

Mind the Tags!

Next Chapter

The Fatui Agent's boots click sharply with every step he takes. The small woman trailing behind him produces a more muffled sound as she struggles to keep up with his long strides. Her white soft-soled leather boots pad along much quicker than the leisurely pace she was used to. They are making their way down a long grey corridor. Large rectangle-shaped lights hung at ten-foot intervals, casting down a dull blue glow that almost didn't reach the black tiled floor far below. If she is being honest, the longer she walks these halls, the more skittish she becomes.

'What was this place? Why was she here?'

As she just about jogs to keep up with the Fatuus, she stares holes into his back, desperately hoping he will finally answer her questions. Seven times now she had tried to get him to explain what is happening. This will make the eighth...

"Where are we going?" She pauses, waiting for a response, he simply kept walking. The woman huffs at his silence. "Why am I here?" This time his left fist clinches, but still, he continues to stubbornly ignore her questions.

'He has no right to be annoyed...', the young woman thinks.

Okay, that is actually nine questions, but she can't help it. Y/N is getting agitated. She did not like being in the dark, at all. She wants answers. After the events of just a few hours ago, she needs them. And to be frank, the woman thinks she deserves them. The H/C woman is confused and frightened by the sudden change in her situation.

Just two hours prior, she had been delivering a package to a visiting merchant from Liyue, it had been his first time in Snezhnaya. He had managed to get himself hopelessly lost trying to locate and retrieve his goods. The man only had so long before his visitor's visa ran out and his time was running thin. The merchant had made several purchases from various shops around the main city in hopes that the imported items would make him a great deal of mora back home. Of course, she hadn't seen anything that looked all that valuable among the items she had delivered...just several nick-knacks, some mediocre jewelry pieces, and a few cases of firewater.

The woman had met him at a café just outside of the port. Y/N had accidentally-though happily- overheard him complaining to one of the wait staff about his predicament and had immediately decided to offer her help with gathering his goods...for a modest amount of mora, of course. Everything in Snezhnaya came at a price.

Y/N didn't have a stable job and just enjoyed the freedom that the situation provided her. She would normally pick up the odd commission from the city folk or Adventure's Guild whenever she needed the money. The jobs she did were pretty lackluster, but they paid well enough. She couldn't complain. To prevent injury to herself, she wouldn't take on the harder tasks from the Guild. The woman simply couldn't keep up with the types of adversaries the institution normally dealt with. No amount of Mora was worth that.

Y/N had just delivered the final package and had been heading through the back alleys of the capital toward her small apartment. The place wasn't much, she didn't need anything all that extravagant. All she needed was her bed, washing facilities, kitchen, and her books.

As the woman had rounded the last corner on her route, she stopped walking. There was a Fatui Agent standing in the middle of the alley with his back to her. She tilted her head curiously wondering what he was even doing here. There wasn't anything of importance around the area.

Under the Tsaritsa's command, the Fatui were the ruling force and backbone of her country. She knew that, of course, but the woman tended to try and avoid them as much as possible. Y/N didn't exactly agree with everything they did, even though just about everyone here in the land of Cryo said it was for the greater good. She wasn't so sure about that...but it wasn't her place to judge them. The organization made her nervous.

Maybe she should backtrack and go the other way around? As she turned to do just that, the Agent pivoted, and she could feel his eyes land on her. The woman paused, watching him out of the corner of her E/C eyes.

'Now what? He already saw me, really no point in going around now.' Hesitantly she turned back toward the alley and began walking in the direction of the man. 'Relax, you have done nothing wrong. No reason to be scared,' As she approached him, the Fatuus simply continued to stare. It was beginning to creep her out.

The crunch of the snow under her feet seemed abnormally loud as she neared him. He stood like a statue in the middle of the walkway. If it hadn't been for the biting breeze fluttering his clothing around him...she could have believed that maybe, he really was made of stone.

She was within arm’s reach of him now. Y/N refused to look directly at him, her eyes were glued to the end of the alley where her warm little corner of the world lay. The woman passed him and after a few seconds breathed a silent sigh of relief.

'Okay, weird.'

Suddenly she felt an iron grip on her right arm, and he yanked her back to his side. She whipped around in surprise and looked up into his masked face just about to demand to know what he thought he was doing. He cut her off before a single syllable could leave her lips.

"You are coming with me." And with that, he turned and began dragging her back the way she had just come. Her eyes had widened in shock, and she stumbled several feet before she had managed to regain her balance. She desperately tried to yank her arm free of his bruising grip but it had been of no use. That's when she had begun hurling her previously unanswered questions. After about ten minutes of this treatment, they had finally approached a carriage...which he had promptly tossed her into. Then they left the capital heading off to Archon's know where.

She is ripped out of her thoughts as the Agent came to a sudden halt. They are standing in front of a large black door. He raises his fist and raps his knuckles against the iron surface twice. For a moment, there was only silence and then a deep voice reverberated from the other side.

"Enter."

The Fatuus grasps the handle and turns, swinging the door open in one swift move. He stands back and tilts his head toward the entrance, indicating that Y/N should enter first.

The frightened woman debates on just turning around and running, but she knew it would do little good. He would be on her before she took more than five steps, she was sure of it. She begins to move hesitantly toward the open room as she returns his gaze. As she steps inside, she is hit with a wave of delicious heat. She had not realized how cold the halls were, being occupied with her questions and confusion.

Y/N glances around the space while making a quick note of the room's furnishings. There is a fireplace placed snugly against the right wall as well as bookcases encasing the space, they reach the ceiling and are complete with a rolling ladder that appears to be attached to a track that can be maneuvered around the room.

The bookcases on three sides are full of books and scrolls but the left wall is filled with numerous jars of ingredients as well as many, many vials of suspiciously glowing liquid, all painstakingly labeled. There are various tables scattered about covered in notebooks, and what she thinks is possibly ruin machine parts. The room is cluttered but surprisingly neat considering all that is crammed into it. In the center of the room, closer to the back wall, stands a massive dark wooden desk. It is covered in various items. Mostly stacks of papers, a scale, an hourglass, a few more vials of liquid, and a medium-sized orb that is gold with red glowing lines crisscrossing its surface....and behind it all, sitting in a high-back ornately carved chair, is a man.

He has medium-length hair that is blue in color, a blue and black hooked mask covering the top half of his face, as well as a single blue earring in the shape of a vial that hangs from his right ear and seemed to glow ominously. He wears an outfit in various shades of black, blue, and white. The whole ensemble is littered with accessories that glow with the same color of light that is emitting from his earring.

He appears to be watching her, although she really can't tell for sure because his eyes are hidden behind the strange mask. His head has lifted in her direction though. That should be a good indicator, 'Right?'

Suddenly, she is pushed none to gently toward the desk. She shoots a glare over her shoulder at the Fatui Agent before she picks her way carefully through the room, winding around the many tables. Within a few short moments, she stands before the blue-haired man, just on the other side of the massive piece of furniture. He simply continues to stare at her as he lay down the pen he had been writing with.

Silence, all except for the Agent's steady breathing coming from behind her and the crackle of the fireplace. As time seems to drag on and nothing happens, her unease increases. She begins fidgeting with her fingers. Apparently noticing this, the man in front of her smiles. At least that is the best word she could think of to describe it. The way his lips stretch is...unsettling to say the least. She is unable to take this situation for much longer. 'Maybe he will answer her questions?', she speaks.

"So...this guy has been refusing to answer any of my questions and I feel that it is kind of unfair regarding the current turn of events." Y/N pauses motioning toward the Fatuus standing behind her. The Agent sighed audibly.

There is another beat of silence before the blue-haired man responds.

"That is not a part of his job description." His voice was deep and rich.

Her brow furrows at his response. 'Okay...rude,' she thought. Taking a deep breath to try and calm herself, she speaks again. "If I'm being honest, I feel like it's only fair to answer. I was dragged here against my will."

The man's smile cracks wider revealing his sharp teeth. Y/N's eyes widen slightly in surprise. 'That's not normal...'

"Oh, I suppose I can indulge you with a few answers. You have had a rather difficult time, after all."

The woman thinks his tone seems rather mocking. She didn't like it and let out a quick breath. “Why was I brought here?"

He tilts his head and seems to regard her for a moment. "That is your first question? Shouldn't it be to ask who I am? It is the normal order of events during a conversation where two people are meeting for the first time."

She snorted. "No. The normal order would be for the person that speaks first to greet the other, introduce themselves, and then ask for the second individual's name. However, nothing about this is normal and certainly not cordial. I was kidnapped remember? My first priority is knowing why I was brought here."

The man chuckles. "Well, I do not need you to give me your name as I already know who you are. We can skip that step." He continues to gaze at the woman expectantly.

Y/N starts at this news. Then again, she really shouldn't be surprised. The Agent had been waiting for her right in front of her home. Certainly, he knew her name. ...but 'Why?' There is another question that needs answering. However, this man is obviously not going to cooperate and answer any questions of hers unless she did things his way. He has an ego; she can already tell. 'Great.' Sighing deeply, she leans forward and braces her hands on his desk.

The woman simply asks, "Who are you?"

His head straightens again, "There, was that so hard? Now that you have been kind enough to ask, I shall indulge you. My name is Il Dottore, however, you may call me The Doctor."

The woman suddenly feels like she has been drenched by a bucket of ice-cold water. She Jerks her hands back, exhaling violently. She knows that name, everyone in Snezhnaya knew all the Harbinger's names. This one is the second and one of the members of the elite group that is feared most. He certainly has a reputation, that is for sure. He is just one of the reasons why she constantly questioned if the Fatui were doing things for the greater good after all. She is not of the mindset that the ends justified the means and his ends, in particular, made her insides churn. Her being here right now in front of this man, whatever the reason was, it is not good. She stands still and just stares at him.

He seems to enjoy her reaction if the ever-widening smile was any indication. He looks unhinged at this point. She supposes that really wasn't too far off. A person would have to be if they did the kinds of things he was known for, surely.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Her courage is shredded at this point. She almost has to dig the words out of her lungs to ask her question again. "Why was I brought here?"

"You were brought to my lab to help me with some experiments. I believe you will fill the role of my newest test subject quite well if the things I have heard are any true indicator."

'The things he has...heard? What things? What did I do to catch his attention? I'm...ordinary.' Her thoughts swirl even more violently now. She is so much more confused.

"Test subject?" She simply questions.

"Of course. I am always in need of new specimens." He says it like it should have already occurred to her.

"What do you need me for specifically? Why not someone else?" The woman wonders if she could worm her way out of this. Maybe convince him she is worthless, and he would let her go. She should feel bad for throwing someone else under the carriage, but she will worry about that later.

"You see, I have been working on a new serum, a variation of one I have used on myself. It is a kind of combat stimulant. It grants the subject superhuman strength, speed, reflexes, stamina, and resilience. As well as helping to hone the mind, allowing it to run faster and perceive the world around the user much clearer. However, this particular version is only temporary and comes with some inconvenient side effects. Namely extreme fatigue, migraines, body aches, nausea, and last but certainly not least, mental instability. I need special subjects to help me to develop this serum into the powerful permanent tool it is meant to be. I believe you are a very special subject. We shall find out soon enough. I have prepared an examination for you using this serum." The Doctor leans back from his desk steepling his black and blue gloved fingers in front of him and his face takes on a more passive expression.

'He thinks I'm special. He doesn't know.' Maybe there is an out. There is no way she is going to be as special as he thinks. Perhaps after this exam, he will let her go after all. She certainly hopes so. That's what she is banking on. ...but there is one little problem, he said the examination involves using the serum on her.

"Mental Instability?" She inquired.

"Yes, that's correct. However, I have crafted a second serum to use in tandem with the first specifically for the purposes of fortifying the mind against that particular nasty side effect, you have nothing to truly worry about."

Y/N seriously doubts that she has nothing to worry about. Not knowing what she knew about him. However, there is obviously nothing she can do about it. She just wants to get this exam over with and go home.

"Okay, I guess so." She pauses, bracing herself. "When are we going to do this examination?"

He smiles again and leans forward, placing his hands on the armrests of the chair. His earring swings.

"As I said, I have already prepared the exam but, to be fair, there wasn't much that had to be done in order to do so. This is a more technical exam. We will prepare you now and start immediately."

He pushes himself out of the chair and stands to his full height. Quickly he turns and makes his way around his desk in just a handful of long strides. He stops only once he had reached Y/N's side.

'He seems excited...he's also very very tall.' She thinks.

"And Darling, I must warn you not to attempt escape, it will not go well for you. When you are not in my presence, this Agent here is assigned to you specifically for protection and to ensure you do not try anything foolish. While he is not authorized to use lethal force...he can, and will, hurt you if the need arises. While I understand this is probably upsetting for you, please be aware that he is only following my orders. So long as you behave, you have nothing to fear. Do you understand?"

Of course, she had already assumed as much. She has no intention of trying to escape...well at least until the perfect opportunity arises. Which would mean that both The Doctor and the Fatui Agent will have to be out of the area. She wonders if there would be a time when they did truly leave her alone. Probably not. 'I just have to prove to him that he is wrong about me.'

"Yes," the young woman snorts.

Then her eyes move to the other man in the room. He appears to stretch to his full height (which was still several inches shorter than Il Dottore) and looks Y/N up and down with little expression before sighing audibly again.

Apparently, he is also not happy about this arrangement. 'Sucks for you, buddy. If I have to be miserable, so do you.'

"Excellent!" He turns to the Agent on his left side. "You are dismissed for now. I will send a Segment to fetch you when I am ready for you to take the subject to her room."

Bowing, the Fatuus briskly walks away and within seconds is gone through the still open door.

The Doctor motions for the woman to follow him and then they are retracing the other Fatuus' steps through the office and out into the chilly halls again. The tall man pauses briefly to pull the large iron slab closed. He produces a golden key from a pocket and quickly locks it, then whirls to the right before quickly striding off.

Y/N notices he never once looked back to see if she was following. The man simply knew she would. 'Cheeky bastard,' She thinks bitterly. Shivering slightly in the cold, she jogs off after him.

#dottore #il dottore #genshin impact #genshin dottore #fatui harbringers #dottore fanfiction #genshin impact fanfiction #Eventual Smut #Mild language #Lackluster #Fanfiction

[the-rockit]

Drabble request, vampire kid Tommy

Thank you for the request!! Sorry for this taking a little long, but this was really fun to write!! This was all over the place but I think it has an...unexpected ending. Things to note: -Flits/flitty = homosexuals/gay(term from the '40s I believe) -Mild language

Tommy was walking to school one day. After his whole…episode…when Orel tried to “help” his misunderstanding of God, his mother didn’t really care about how he dressed. If he was so far from God already, what’s a little more that couldn’t hurt? At least in her eyes. So, Tommy had his fake fangs in, and a cape that tied in the front that was red on the inside and black on the outside. He knew he would be made fun of, but he didn’t care much about the opinions of others, for the most part, especially since people viewed him so low, to begin with.

He walked into his special classroom and the kids in there looked confused since it wasn’t Halloween, it was just an ordinary day in March after all. Not much about his outfit was said that day for the most part. That was until he had to step outside of his special classroom, he heard a few murmurs of slurs under people’s breaths, likely to try and not get in trouble with the principal, not that he would care much.

Despite the slurs, he carried himself proudly, he felt good dressing like this. He went to lunch as usual and at this point, his mother should just stop packing his lunch, since it was all mushed up so he wouldn’t choke. He only took it so she felt important for doing something in his life. So, he sat his stuff down, got up, and got in line. Once he got up there, he realized he had no more lunch money in his account and his mom, being as idiotic and forgetful as she was, forgot to give him any money. Sometimes he wondered if she drank. He sighed, the only way he was going to get more than a snack cake was to ask the person behind him for money. He turned around. Oh boy.

It was Joe. Of all people, why did it have to be Joe? He would have liked Orel better, despite the fact they weren’t really friends. However, he didn’t really have much of a choice if he wanted to eat today. 

“Hey, Joe…do you have any money? My lunch is out…”

Joe stared at him for a few moments. Tommy was confused but thought he was just looking at how he was dressed today more than anything else. 

He pulled out a fat stack of cash from his pockets and gave him the bare minimum, a dollar. “Just be lucky I stole this from the rich kid…” He shoved the money at him as if it was worthless.

Tommy found this strange. Joe of all people giving somebody like him money? The same person who hurled rocks at him and his friends? “Wow…uh thanks Joe…”

“Shut up, goofy-toons, before I change my mind!” Ah, there it was, classic Joe. 

He handed the dollar to the lunch lady and got his lunch and ate normally. Still, though, it confused him. Why? Why Joe? Why today of all days? He shrugged, he wasn't going to pester somebody over a kind action, still though it made him wonder.

He continued wearing his vampire outfit every day, and eventually, it just became a part of his reputation. Not only was he one of the dumbest kids in school now, but he was also the weird vampire kid. He didn’t mind very much, at least he was dressing how he wanted to now, although his mother thought he was dressing satanically. To avoid his mother in the mornings, he had to use the bicycle helmet he already wore every day to good use.

On this particular day, he put his bike on the bike rack and went inside the school. Today, he had also brought something else with him to make him even more like a vampire. Plus, it wasn’t technically immoral or illegal since he remembered drinking it at the communions before he realized he was an atheist. 

When he went into the special classroom, Ms. Stoopdown looked depressed, but he disregarded that. Today was the day he would at least look like he was a real vampire. He readjusted the fake fangs in his mouth that he got from Buried Pleasures recently. As she taught rudimentary math, he started to think as to why he even wanted to drink it in the first place. Sure, it would look like he was drinking blood and all, but it might also make him act peculiarly, given it would be killing his brain cells in the process of him consuming the liquid he hid in his cape. Still, though, he wanted to at least try and look like a vampire because it was one of the few things he enjoyed because people saw it as satanic, it was a way for him to rebel without breaking any written school rules.

He waited until lunch had already passed into recess before even thinking of taking it out. He would have shown the other kids that the school deems special, but he didn’t know any of them well enough to actually trust them. Plus, ever since he was put into the special class, he was always the backup friend to Orel’s friend group. Not that he was ever at a forefront of his friend group, but it grew worse when they realized he was an atheist and learned differently than others.

He went out to the farthest tree he could that he wouldn’t get yelled at for going. He sat down on the dry grass below. He opened up his cape and let the bottle of wine fall out of his pocket. He looked around quickly, just to make sure no goody-two-shoes would snitch on him for bringing it because despite it being at communion, he knew how hypocritical this town and its people were. The only people he saw were Joe and some random kid he was wailing on. Perfect.

Now was the time to drink the liquid of his choice. He tried to pull out the cork with all of his might. The people on TV sure did make this look easier than it was… He continued to try, going to the point he had his foot on it and trying to pull it out that way, hoping the pressure would help the cork pull through. It did not. Then, he tried to get it out by scratching out the cork that way, but all that did was hurt his fingernails. Well, this thing was a bust, now he wouldn’t like a vampire, well not as much of one anyways. He let out his frustrations by shaking the wine bottle furiously. Why couldn’t he just couldn’t have this one thing? He knew it was dumb to even try to consume an alcoholic beverage at school since he was underage, he would get caught, and alcohol only damages the mind, but still. For once he wanted to put his logic aside to feel something other than being invisible but he couldn’t even have that. He just sat there, defeated as he pitifully still tried to open it, despite knowing it wouldn’t bust.

Meanwhile, Joe was finishing chewing out the kid of the week he decided to pick on. “And never talk shit about the nurse again, got it?”

The boy in question nodded before scampering off. Joe wiped the blood on his hands onto his shirt. He started to head back out to where the majority of people are, when he saw a bottle of wine, belonging seemingly to Tommy of all people. Wow, he was cooler than he thought. 

He plopped down beside him. “Can I have some?”

“If you can open it…” Tommy sighed.

Joe tried to get it open the same ways Tommy did before just smashing it against the tree. 

“Jesus Joe, do you want us to get caught?”

“Well, I got it open didn’t I?”

“Yea but how are we gonna drink it?”

“Like this, dummy.” Joe proceeded to drink it out of the broken half of the bottle, somehow not cutting himself. “Hey, this isn’t half bad.”

Tommy took the other half of the bottle and carefully sipped it. Oddly enough he never really considered the flavor of the wine itself, more so just that it looked like blood. But he was right. “Hey you’re right, this is pretty good.”

“So…goofy-toons, why do you even have this in the first place? I thought you were a dumb goody-two-shoes.”

“Thanks. Well, my reputation is already through the floor and ever since the principal ushered me to the special classroom, nobody pays attention to me anyways. Plus, it makes me look like a vampire, don’t you think?” He asked as he opened his mouth to show the “blood” dripping off his fangs. 

“The hell are you obsessed with vampires so much anyways?”

“Well, it’s a way to rebel I guess since everybody thinks I dress satanically.”

“Yea, after you started wearing it. Why did you start?”

He pulled on the neck of his cape. It was a bit odd to be telling something a little personal to somebody like Joe, but he seemed alright enough. “Well…vampires are always cool, especially when they’re alone. Have you ever seen a vampire being made fun of for being lonely or being too nerdy? No, they’re always shown as edgy love interests or powerful villains, never pathetic. I guess I was just tired of being viewed as pathetic I guess.” 

“Damn…” Joe said as he gulped down some more wine. 

“Now I got a question for you.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Why do you care? Why are you listening to me?”

“Well…you aren’t the lamest kid at school.” He responded as he looked at the grass below them, picking the grass from the ground.

“Really? Why’d you pick on me so much then?”

“None of your business,” Joe said oddly defensively.

Tommy was a bit caught off guard. “C’mon I told you somethin’ personal…”

“Didn’t have to.”

He rolled his eyes. Why did he think he could have a competent conversation with Joe? Before he was about to get up and leave, Joe finally decided to respond.

“Well…you’re smart, whether you believe it or not. Guess I was intimated or some edgy bullshit ‘cause I’ve always been called the dumbest at home.”

Tommy gulped, his face beginning to grow oddly warm. “Thanks…it means a lot…but you’re not dumb. Trust me, I’ve seen dumb and you’re not. Plus, nobody can be dumber than Doughy.”

He giggled. “Yea ‘guess you’re right.” He looked at his face. “Why are you so red?”

Shit.

“J-Just wasn’t expecting you to say that is all…I’m not a flit or anything…”

Joe smirked a little. “Never implied that, plus I don’t care about that kinda stuff. I’ll kill you if you tell but…I think I’m a flit myself.”

“Really? Never took you for one.”

He shrugged. “Dunno…I just feel somethin’...odd..”

“‘Round who?”

“...doesn’t matter…” He began turning red himself.

Tommy looked at his face turning redder, despite Joe trying to hide it. He scratched the back of his neck. “Y’know…there’s nobody out here…we can be flitty if you want to…”

“Why would I want to with you?” Classic Joe.

“Well you sure are red for one…plus…I have a strong regard for you…”

“‘I have a strong regard for you’ who the hell talks like that? Do you like me or not?”

Tommy nodded. Joe’s mouth slowly crept into a smile as he got closer to Tommy. “Well…?”

Tommy gulped but nodded. “Heh…you look like closeface…”

“What?”

“N-Nevermind…” Tommy could feel not just his stomach fluttering but his heart pounding. He never thought he would feel this way around somebody like Joe but the universe has a funny way of working. Due to his nervousness, he didn’t do much, despite just consuming an alcoholic beverage on school property. 

Joe rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, you’re going to make me be the flitty one, huh?” Before Tommy could respond, Joe had already kissed him. Tommy was surprised because even though it was obvious it was going to happen, it did happen suddenly. He let his body relax into the kiss as he held Joe’s hand. 

Joe pulled away after a few moments and looked at the red tomato named Tommy. He smiled. “Who’s the flit now?”

“Y-You’re not exactly straight yourself, idiot.” He continued to hold onto Joe’s hand. 

“Heh…do you wanna be flitty together…?”

Tommy nodded, his mind was still whirling from the moment before. He never thought he would be kissed in his youth, especially by a boy, but he didn’t mind. He liked him and Joe liked Tommy and that’s all that mattered at that moment.

Soon enough though, recess had to end but their relationship didn’t, they continued sneaking kisses and exchanging gifts with one another behind the trees. If anybody did see them, Joe would take care of them.

A vampire kid and a goth kid, who would have ever thought?

The End.

A/N: Fun fact, Britta Phillips who sang Closeface also voices Tommy so it can in a way be interrupted as a Tommy love song, anyways I know this is kinda weird and random but I hope you enjoyed it

#flits #flitty #moral orel #tommy littler #vampire kid #vampire #tommy is a vampire #mild language #writing #drabble #creative writing #asks #request #lucyaskz #lucyfanficz #lucyreqz

[charbroillaflamme]

Guess I have to make the content for this fever dream show by myself.

#tumblr text post #funny text posts #roswell conspiracies #obscure 90’s cartoon #mild language #text post meme #roswell conspiracies Nick Logan #roswell conspiracies vampire #roswell conspiracies Sh’lainn Blaze #roswell conspiracies Simon Fitzpatrick #roswell conspiracies Ti-Yet #roswell conspiracies banshee #roswell conspiracies yeti #roswell conspiracies: aliens myths and legends

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

We Got That Love, The Crazy Kind

Mattheo Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2153

Warnings: Suggestive, fluff, mild language, torture, blood…

Prompt: Mattheo is awkward about showing affection to you in public, so you both are in a bit of an argument. However, Lavendar has a crush on Mattheo and you’ve had enough. Oliver decides to flirt with you and Mattheo wasn’t having it.

*Y/N’s POV*

“How long are you and Mattheo going to keep up this silent treatment?” Pansy asks, the both of us walking towards the courtyard.

“Until he can start treating me like I’m his girlfriend. I’m tired of the way he treats me in public. It’s like…he’s embarrassed of me.” I say, shaking my head upset.

I saw that he was sitting by a tree with Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zambini, Draco Malfoy, and Theodore Nott. Our friends, however since this whole argument with Mattheo and I started, I’ve been sitting elsewhere with Pansy.

She didn’t have to sit with me, but she was a good friend even though I knew how close she was with the guys. Not to mention, Draco is her boyfriend. Yet, she decides to sit with me so I won’t be alone.

“I heard he broke up with her.” I hear.

“Yeah. They did. Because he couldn’t get enough of me. Mattheo…he’s good.” Lavender says.

“Whatever you do, and whatever your thinking, don’t do it.” Pansy pleads, but I stand as she curses.

I start walking towards the table she sat at with her friends as Pansy started to speed walk towards the tree where the guys were. I grabbed Lavendar by her hair and she cries out in pain. I drag her off the bench and let her fall to the ground. I wait until she stands up, glaring at me. I lunge at her, pinning her to the wall as I punch her repeatedly.

All I saw was red.

I’ve heard girls talk about Mattheo, but typically they stop when they see the glare I give them. Lavender doesn’t know when to stop.

“I don’t know what your obsession with my boyfriend is, but I’ve had it.” I snap breathlessly between punches.

“Ms. Y/L/N, enough.” Umbridge warns.

I ignore her when I see her pull her wand out. She points it at me.

“Petrificus Totalus!” She shouts, but I pulled my wand free, pointing it in the direction of her and shout, “Protego!”

She gasps, seeming shocked I would fight a spell. I let Lavendar fall to the ground as her friends rush towards her. I look at Umbridge who looked red in the face and was ready to fire another spell off at me.

“Expelliarmus!” I shout.

Her wand goes flying away from her and I storm out of the courtyard, heading towards the Slytherin dorms. I get to mine, slamming the door shut and locking it before going to my bathroom. I close the door, locking it as I look at myself in the mirror.

What have I done?

I’m suppose to mad at him, yet I can’t ignore what Lavendar says…he wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t be with someone else…right? No…that’s…that’s not my Mattheo.

Who said he was still your Mattheo?

I shake my head, ignoring the stinging in my eyes. I turn the water on and watch the water turn a red-pink color as it washes away Lavendar’s and I’s blood. I grab my wand, pointing at one hand.

“Episkey.” I whisper.

I watch the hand heal before I grab my wand and point it at my other hand, doing the same. I look at myself in the mirror. Who have I become?

I was forced to stand at the front of the class and receive my punishment from Umbridge. She grabs her chair and makes me sit.

“You’ll be punished for the fight you started and then you’ll be punished for ignoring orders from a Professor.” She says.

She gave me a notepad and a quill. I was very aware of what this meant.

“How many lines?” I ask.

“I’ll let you know when it’s finished. I want you to write, “I will not disobey orders”, understood?” She asks.

“Understood.” I say shortly.

I clench my jaw, starting to write my lines as if it didn’t bother me. I ignored the stinging at the back of my eyes and focused on the quill in hand as she taught away. I take in a slow deep breath before letting it out. Blood dripped down my hand and was dripping to the floor. My hands shook slightly, but I continued to do as asked.

“Alright. Good. It’s been half the class. How’s your hand?” She asks.

“Peachy.” I say bluntly, looking up at her with a blank stare.

“Is this you talking back?” She asks.

“You’d know if I was talking back. What next?” I ask.

“I don’t think your punishment is working,” she says as she pulls her wand out, “imperio.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

“Take the quill, write on your arm. Write mudblood. Until I say stop.” She says.

“You can’t do this!” Mattheo snaps.

“It’s against the rules.” Harry adds, looking quite frightened.

I grimace as I bring the quill to my arm and it digs into it as I write the saying I’ve heard all across my life. I close my eyes, my hand moving and continuously writing “mudblood” into my arm, going deeper each time.

“Mr. Riddle, Mr. Potter, enough. I can punish my students how I like. Maybe this will teach her a lesson.” She says, before going back to teaching.

I opened my eyes, looking at the word that was carved into my arm. A word that haunts me far too much. Maybe that’s why Mattheo is so embarrassed of me. I’m a mudblood. That is who I will always be.

“Alright Ms. Y/L/N, you can stop.” She says and I felt a weight lifted off me.

I throw the quill and pad of paper in her direction as I stand, walking out of the room as I ignore her calls. I get to the Slytherin dorms and Snape stops me.

“It’ll scar, but let me heal it.” He says.

“It’s fine.” I mutter.

He grabs my arm with a sigh, using his wand to heal it. I nod before walking away towards my dorm where I close the door and lock it.

I pull my shirt off and pull on a long-sleeve, wanting to hide that horrid word before I lay on my bed. I hear a knock on my door, but I ignore it.

“It’s me.” Pansy says.

I stay quiet, staring at the wall. She sighs, knocking again.

“Let me in. Let us in. We want to make sure your okay. That wasn’t okay of Umbridge to do. That was…torture.” She says.

“I’m okay. I want to be alone, so leave me alone.” I say calmly, fighting my turmoil of emotions.

I couldn’t avoid them forever. I avoided them for a good two weeks, by holing myself up in my dorm. Snape brought me my work, but he said I had to return to my classes today.

I was dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. I never wore long-sleeves, but I couldn’t get that horrid word off my arm.

I put my hair up in a messy bun, looking at myself in the mirror blankly. I’ve gotten paler over the past two weeks which could be from not eating like I normally should. I had bags under my eyes and my eyes in general just looked tired.

I grab my bag and wand before I began to head towards Umbridge’s class. I walk in and she looks at me surprised.

“And I thought you left Hogwarts.” She mocks.

“And I wish someone Avada Kedavra’d you. Yet, your still here.” I say tiredly, going to my empty seat at the back of the class.

“Do we need to repeat your punishment?” She asks.

“Go on with teaching. Your punishment did nothing the first time and I doubt it would do anything this time.” I snap.

“And detention, Potter. I said, Cedric’s death was a tragic accident.” She says, turning her focus on him.

“Like your birth?” I ask annoyed.

“Y/n, enough.” Mattheo’s whispers harshly.

“Y/L/N, leave my classroom now. I’ve had enough.” She says calmly.

“Gladly.” I say, standing to gather my stuff as she starts to lecture me.

“Umbitch. Lecturing me, and shouting at me, and telling me to hurry up isn’t going to get me to move faster. You should’ve been killed months ago cause you are such a pain in the ass. How did you end up here? Honestly because you are pretty fucked up,” I say, laughing before looking at her, “and you don’t own me.”

I walk out of the room as Draco whistles.

“Damn.” Mattheo mutters.

I was in the courtyard working on my studies as everyone else finally filed out. I was sitting at the table Pansy and I had been occupying before I holed myself up in my room. Pansy and the guys join us.

“Hey, how are you?” Pansy asks softly.

“I don’t need pity and treated like I’m so broken glass doll.” I say, flipping the page of my textbook.

“We are your friends. We care about you.” She says.

“Well care less.” I say annoyed.

“Snape said it scarred.” She says.

“And if it did?” I ask.

“I know how much you hate that word. Your a powerful witch though. Better than Granger. Let me see it.” She says.

“Y/N.” Oliver says.

“Yes, Oliver?” I ask, looking up.

“Can we talk…alone?” He asks.

My eyebrows furrow, but I nod slowly. I follow him towards a tree that wasn’t occupied, away from everyone. My eyes flicker to my table to see that they kept glancing over and Mattheo was watching intently. I didn’t miss the look of jealously.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” He asks.

“Your pathetic, Oliver! You called me over here, to ask me out when you know I have boyfriend!” I exclaim, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t have to know. And he acts like you both aren’t together anyway. I can treat you better.” He says.

“In your wildest dreams, Wood. Get away.” I snap, going to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.

I pull my arm free, backing myself up against a tree as he steps forward. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face that must’ve fallen out from the bun.

“It’s always been you, Y/L/N. Mattheo doesn’t have to know about this. You and I…we’d be a better couple. I could treat you better.” He says.

“You’re a real piece of work, Wood. I love Mattheo, even if he doesn’t show his feelings towards me in public, I love him. Nothing will happen between you and me. Now, let me go.” I snap.

*Mattheo’s POV*

“I think Oliver is flirting with her.” Draco says.

I watch her and could tell she was uncomfortable. She seems upset after whatever he says and was glaring at him. She goes to walk past him, but he grabs her arm and I clench my jaw.

“Don’t do it man.” Theo warns.

“Ah shit. He’s backed her up against the tree and is going in for a kiss.” Lorenzo says.

I get up, storming towards the two of them and I push Oliver down to the ground as Pansy pulls Y/N into a hug.

“Okay, motherfucker now you got my attention.” I say, grinning as I start throwing punches at him.

“Not again.” Lorenzo sighs.

“Mattheo! Come on man! Stop! Umbridge will flip!” Draco snaps.

He and Lorenzo were trying to pull me off of Oliver, but all I saw was red. He touched her and he knew she is mine.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again! She’s mine, Wood! Next time I’ll kill you!” I snap.

“Mattheo…please.” She whispers.

I freeze, before looking over my shoulder to see that Pansy and Theodore were holding her back from coming to me. I’ll thank them for that later. Oliver hits me, and I turn back to him and hit him again before getting up.

I walk to her, pulling her towards me. She looks up at me with watery eyes. I lose a hand in her hair, messing up the bun. I pull her closer to me as I lean down and kiss her roughly.

Her hands rest on my chest as she kisses me back. I pull away, resting my head against her forehead as I look into her gorgeous (your eye color) eyes.

“I love you.” She says softly.

“Your mine.” I snap.

“I’m yours.” She says, smiling slightly.

I pull away before throwing her over my shoulder. She gasps, hitting my back as she snaps at me to put her down.

“Not happening. I’ll put you down when we get to my dorm.” I say and her cheeks flush as Draco “ooohs”.

“Mattheo!” She exclaims embarrassed.

“They got that love.” Lorenzo chuckles.

“Yeah, the crazy kind.” Pansy teases.

#mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #harry potter #suggestive #fluff #angst #harry potter fluff #mild language #sensitive subjects #jealousy #possessive #badass

[mamamittens]

Tinsel, Lights, and Popcorn Strings

Day #10 of the 2022 December Event

Fandom: One Piece

Ship: MarcoXRay(OC)XAce

Warnings: Overly cute Christmas tree decorating and mild threats of violence

No, you didn't miss several days, I just knew my friend was having a difficult time and wanted to cheer him up! And it's easier to remember where I was in writing fluff after a coughing fit than smut (but the last one is next I promise!)

Also, the 'rat' decorations are absolutely inspired by my own childhood decorations but I made them rats instead of the mice the originally are. Super cute decorations istg, they make me soft just thinking about them

Word Count: 1,740

If there's anything that needs adjusting let me know!

Merry (early) Christmas darling (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧!

@marco--the--phoenix

There was one single, gargantuan task that most Whitebeard pirates feared above all else.

It wasn’t enforcing yet another booze ban on their captain and father figure.

It wasn’t doing the dishes after every meal.

And it wasn’t even the prospect of doing the laundry for the entire crew.

…

It was decorating the tree.

The task no one wanted to do was decorate the tree. It seemed rather odd to Ace, truth be told, that the Whitebeard pirates feared this task so much. But it wasn’t until he actually tried to do it himself that he understood why.

There wasn’t anyone across all the blues as fucking picky about ornaments as Marco. Oh, it was such bullshit.

See, this ass sits back like he doesn’t have a care in the world but you try and use ‘too much’ tinsel on the bottom half of the biggest damn tree Ace has ever seen on a ship and suddenly Marco is ready to wage war.

Not that Ray is of any help, heckling the shit out of Ace’s honest attempts to decorate a tree with ‘helpful’ suggestions about which ornaments to use and where.

“Why not put the glass snowflakes lower, Ace?” Ray suggested, instantly earning an irate snort from Marco.

“And have them get knocked over and shatter across the floor? Nice try, Ray. I know you just want to replace them with candy.” Marco snarked, plucking the offending ornament from the box of ornaments.

“What’s wrong with candy canes on a tree, Marco? We’re putting popcorn all over it!” Ray huffed, gazing at the tray of specially prepared candy Thatch had made for them to use along with popcorn string long enough for Oyaji to use as a jump rope.

“You know, if you have such high standards for the damn tree, the least you could do is help.” Ace snarled, barely remembering that he was handling ornaments probably older than himself. Marco rolled his eyes and leaned back against the far wall.

“You’ve got it just fine without me.”

“Clearly not if you keep complaining you dick!” Ace hissed, tossing a wad of tinsel at him. It exploded into many short strings of tinsel, spraying the area and Marco in glittery confetti. “Either help me or stop riding my ass!”

Ray smirked, opening his mouth to say something with a glint in his eyes—

“Don’t.” Marco snapped, brushing the tinsel off of his clothes. Ray seemed to deflate a little as he sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood up and looked into another unopened box.

“Fine. Be that way.” Ray muttered, pulling out a string of lights that had wound up into a right ball. “How much tinsel and string lights do we need anyway?” Ace almost wept when Marco finally got off the wall and dragged open a box, efficiently unwinding the lights like it didn’t take Ace himself twenty minutes to accomplish the task on his own.

At some point, Ace is going to suspect this was all on purpose just to fuck with him.

“The point is to fill up the tree all the way to the top. Ornaments go on last so they don’t catch on the tinsel, lights, or popcorn. We got a bigger tree this year so we should be able to use everything this time.” Marco commented lightly, eyeing the string of lights in his hands. “The candy canes are to fill in any gaps left over.”

In a flash of blue fire, Marco transformed and started plucking up lights as Ray fed the line efficiently. Arching around the tree ever higher as he picked at them until he was pleased with their placement on the thick branches.

“Oh, now you guys decide to be useful! Couldn’t have done that an hour ago, huh!?” Ace huffed, picking at another wad of tinsel as he debated if it was worth trying to shoot Marco out of the air with it.

Marco slammed into the ground behind Ace, clicking his beak inches from his ear with a loud clack as a warning.

“Don’t even think about it, yoi~” Marco cooed, tugging on a stray loop of tinsel just to watch it explode open in Ace’s hands.

“Shit!” Ace cursed, tripping over the sudden mass of loose decoration at his feet, the other two laughing at him as they started on the tinsel. “You know, the fact that you both can do this just fine on your own is really starting to piss me off!” Ace growled as he crawled out from under an ever-growing pile of decorations.

“Maybe we just wanted to decorate with you, sweetheart.” Ray laughed, reaching down to help him up. “No one else is brave enough to argue with Marco over decorations.”

“You manage just fine.” Marco scoffed, plucking at a line of tinsel with his talons as he did more minor adjustments.

“Well, that’s because I know you don’t bite…” Marco and Ace gave Ray a look. “Much.” Ray brushed off Ace’s hair as a rain of glitter and tinsel bits fell to the ground. Ace huffed, glancing at Ray with a sullen expression. The older man just smiled, adjusting his glasses with his Christmas sweater threaded with stray bits of tinsel. Horrendously, it looked all too similar to his floral shirts. But no less terrible than Marco’s, which was decorated solely with pineapples and candy canes.

To say nothing of his own sweater with cheery skulls and fire that he was too touched to throw out and too embarrassed to admit he loved to pieces.

“There. Now, we can add the popcorn and move onto the real decorations.” Marco declared, plucking the end of the chain impatiently.

“He’s just mad he’s not allowed to eat it.” Ray whispered conspiratorially to Ace. If Marco heard—which he definitely did—he didn’t act like it. Tossing the popcorn string along the branches in gentle curves along the branches until he reached the bottom.

Wanting to get it over with before something else happens, Ace opened a nearby box and looked inside.

The decorations were carefully swaddled porcelain. A set of some kind, featuring small rats with individual decorations. One was gleefully riding a scooter with packages in it’s paws. Another in a dress with a sewing needle shoved into a popcorn bit as an umbrella. One with a tree and a cute couple on a pocket watch. It was weird but cute. Ray plucked the and handed them to Marco to distribute to his liking.

They both looked oddly nostalgic about the decorations as they were placed on the tree one by one.

More traditional decorations such as bells, balls, and snowflakes were equally distributed with no real determination. Occasionally another unique set or decoration would pop up and would be handled with care. Ace assumed that they were bought or made by a specific crew member but refrained from asking. Just glad he wasn’t being buried alive in tinsel again.

There was a set of spun glass decorations that looked like different types of booze that got a good laugh though.

“Pft. Who’s are these? Oyaji’s?” Ace asked, holding up one that was no bigger than his thumb. Marco let out a bark of laugher, plucking it from Ace’s hand.

“Yeah. One year he was banned from drinking during the holiday and tried to sneak some in anyway. The nurses got him this set as ‘the closest he was getting to real booze until well after the new year’.” Marco grinned, hanging them up cheerfully with Ray handing them over as he went.

Of course, as they got further up the tree, it mostly just turned into Ray and Ace holding up ornaments for Marco to pluck and place as he pleased. Thankfully, Marco didn’t have nearly as much complaints when he was the one putting up the ornaments.

Finally, there was only one thing left. The tree topper.

“Uh… isn’t there supposed to be something at the top?” Ace asked, sneaking himself a candy cane to eat. Ray rolled his eyes but allowed it, stealing one for himself.

“There’s a competition every year where Oyaji decides the best tree topper. Last year Izo made a paper lantern with a light dial inside it and he didn’t stop preening for weeks.” Ray explained.

“Oh… Are there rules to it?” Ace asked curiously. Marco sighed, stretching his back out as he admired the tree.

“No fire for obvious reasons. Nothing too big for the tree or messy. Other than that, it’s free game. Oyaji keeps the winning tree toppers on a shelf in his room after the tree goes down.” Marco informed him, taking the time to ruffle his hair vigorously. “I expect you’ll do well!”

“Hey! Who said I was competing?!” Ace yelped, smoothing back down his hair from the mess Marco made to no avail.

“I’m pretty excited to see what you come up with myself.” Ray agreed. Ace scowled at the two of them and their shit eating grins.

“Either one of you would make good tree toppers, you know…” Ace grumbled mutinously.

“Oh, you want to use our feathers for your tree topper? That’s so sweet of you, Ace! I’ll see if I have any good feathers lying around to give you. What do you say, Marco? Should we help Ace win this year?” Ray asked cheerily. Marco rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Hmm… I think I can manage, yeah. I look forward to seeing the results, Ace.” Marco conceded, much to Ace’s displeasure.

“H-How the hell am I supposed to make a tree topper out of feathers?!” Ace grumbled, face burning almost to the point of combustion. Ray smiled softly and kissed his cheek.

“You’re resourceful. I know you can figure it out!” Ray declared.

Naturally, Ace couldn’t stand down after that.

And his crafted tree topper looked beautiful on top of the tree. Made of cinnamon, myrrh, and vanilla sticks woven into a nest. Cradling a bird made of clear spun glass with one of Marco’s feathers inside it, casting light across the iridescent pigeon feathers and beads that peaked through the spice nest. It glowed softly, even in the dark, with a delicate array of light. Absolutely worth the three days Ace spent trying to melt glass by hand before someone took pity on him and showed him where he could find a proper furnace on the island they were docked on.

#one piece #fire fist ace #marco the phoenix #OC #fluff #mild language #christmas tree decorating #Ace makes things with his hands all the time #you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands #usually wood and something he can use his fire for #I tried to remain focused but this dry cough is being a bitch #so sorry if it's a bit jumpy in places #that's where i hacked up my lungs lol

[etjwrites]

I open book Facebook 😊

LINK

I close Book Facebook 😨

#what in the good green earth is this foolishness!? 😨 #bookblr #internet drama #mild language

[emotelizardrambling]

“I’ve had not enough!”

Coss-posted on AO3- let me know if you enjoy it.:

"Come on Stowaway, you've had enough." The Captain sighed, taking the traveler by the elbow but they shook him off.

"I've had not enough!" They argued swaying slightly, as they turned, to fix Calderon with a glare. "Of this," they gestured vaguely toward him, "Of you, I've had enough." They clarified "but not of drunk, I mean drink."

"Is that so?"

"That is so. You," they jammed a finger into the middle of his chest. "You, drive me fucking crazy, and not in the fun way."

He raised an eyebrow at them. 

"Just like that." They moved their finger up just an inch from his nose. "You just gave me the look and now I'm all pissed off. Nothin', I can do about it though." They stated, pulling their hand away with a shrug. "Nothin' 'sept to drink." They swirled their drink and then downed what remained in the glass with three large gulps. "Fuck that's gross." They added slamming the cup back on the counter. "I need another one."

"You really don't," Calderon stated, drawing their attention again.

"Ughhhhh." They threw their head back dramatically, barely catching hold of the counter before they fell backward. Calderon helped them steady themselves again but it only earned him another glair. "Why are you still here?"

"Mainly to prevent you from ending up dead in a ditch."

The Traveler scoffed. "You wish I'd end up dead in a ditch." They said to their empty glass. "Then I'd really be out of your way. No more causing trouble, no more using up your resources, no more useless stowaway."

He almost interjected but the traveler continued. "It's not like l really blame you for that." They sighed. "June, and Aya, and Ryona, and Bash... They're nice. They feel sorry for me so they all wanna help. They're so fucking nice..." they nodded. "But it doesn't always do you good to be nice."The Traveler's tone was muted now. Clearly, they were too drunk to really manage what they said, but this was part of the sassy and energetic traveler that Cal had never seen. "You know that." they frowned. "As much as you piss me off, I don't think you're a bad captain. You look after your own and I can respect that." 

With a small shake of the head and hand slamming on the counter. "All the same, I won't be giving you what you want. No dying in a ditch for me. Not yet. Even if that's not the right choice, even if it sucks, I promised." 

They blinked, face drooping again. "I..." they steadied their head. "I think I promised... Or maybe I'm just too scared to die... Maybe that voice in my dream is just wishful thinking... Somebody who cares, who... Who sees something..." the words were said into the counter but they still hit Calderan like a punch. "Fuck I need another drink." The traveler raised their head and moved to the side, seemingly intent to call on the bartender, but, upon slipping off their stool, found their legs weren't in any mood to hold them up anymore.

Before they could hit the floor they were lifted up instead. Calderon had hooked his one arm around their shoulders and the other below their knees and was now carrying them away from the bar. 

"Hey!!! What the fuck? Put me down," they wiggled and kicked the air.

"I will," Calderon assured them, "Back on the ship where you can sleep it off and live to regret your life choices tomorrow." He continued making his way out of the bar and onto the dimly lit street.

"Oh fuck you, you don't know a damn thing about my life choices. Hell. I don't even know a damn thing about my life choices."

"I know you're drunk off your ass, on a nearly lawless planet, being carried back to a mercenary ship, by a disgraced city guard." 

Calderon supplied. 

The traveler made a choking sound and for a moment he feared they were about to throw up all over him, but, catching a glance of their face, he realized they were biting back a laugh.

"Well," They giggled, "when you put it like that it does sound pretty bad." He, much more successfully, bit back a laugh of his own, settling on a smirk. 

"Is that why you're bothering with me? To gloat about being right." They stated, suddenly not laughing at all anymore. It’s a perfect out, he thought. He would have only half-jokingly agreed with that statement an hour ago, but they studied him carefully from their place in his arms. Hands limp against his chest from their earlier feeble attempts to escape and, for the first time he could recall, they weren't a stubborn, defiant, stowaway testing his nerves and taunting him at every turn. They weren't the challenging, sharp-witted, firecrackers that refused to flinch in the face of a clear and direct threat and always played the cards they were dealt either, never seeming to expect anything better. They looked at him, and their eyes were filled with pain, and fear, he was certain they never intended to show. Something in him broke to see it, to realize he had glimpsed it over and over but had never taken it for what it was.

"You're not useless," he stated softly, stopping to be sure he could look them directly in the eyes. "You're clever, adaptable, and charismatic. I never should have said you were useless when I didn't even know you at the time, and I'm sorry I've let you believe I continued to think that." 

They blinked their mouth, falling open slightly with an inelegant "huh?"

"You said you respect that I am willing to take care of my own, but you don't seem to realize that you are one of my own now. You're a member of this crew and I'm not going to let you get hurt just because you don't believe I care."

They were both silent for a few minutes as Calderon continued making his way back to the Andromeda Six. The look on their face was hard to read so he wasn't sure exactly what the traveler thought of his words. He tried not to dwell on it though. He didn't say anything that wasn't true after all. 

"Cap’n," The traveler called softly. 

"Yes?"

"Put me down." He looked down at them, the pang of worry that he had, in fact, said the wrong thing returning, but before he could respond their face twisted slightly. 

"I don't feel so good." They said swallowing hard. They had barely been set on their feet when they crumpled over heaving violently. He managed to slow their fall but Calderon could do little but kneel beside them and prevent them from falling forward into their own vomit.

Eventually, the heaving slowed down and the traveler recovered taking slow and shaky breaths. Coughing occasionally and spitting out any remaining bile.

"You know..." They started meekly. "’at may be the only thing that tastes better comin’ up than going down." They were still shaking but they smiled weekly anyway.

Calderon didn't even try to stop his laugh, and the traveler let out a few chuckles of their own.

"A little better now?" He asked and they smiled softly. 

"A little."

"Come on." He said picking them up once again. "Let's get you to bed."

"Mmm..." They chucked into his shoulder. "You're just all about getting me into bed." They mumbled. 

He rolled his eyes, but still smiled softly to himself as they seemed to properly relax into his hold. 

It wasn't long until their breathing grew soft and even, and their head lulled against his shoulder. He made his way back to the A6 and, as quietly as he could, to the traveler's room, depositing them gently onto their bed, removing their shoes, and spreading a blanket over them. The process was familiar to him considering the years he and Ayame had been friends. He knew to leave out a headache remedy and full bottle of water beside her bed, he also brought a second bottle of water, he hated the idea of having to wake them up from peaceful rest, something, Ryona had alluded, that was not easy for them to come by, but they just threw up quite a lot, and they would need to rehydrate. Gently he shook their shoulder, and their eyes fluttered a little. Calderon helped them sit up, and they only gave a mild groan of protest. 

It didn't take any convincing to get them to drink the water. The way they took consistent slow sips with nibbles at the crackers in between, even in their drunken state, told him they were familiar with this process as well. That provided an odd mix of emotions. No one with a happy normal life gets drunk like she did, alone, not trying to prove anything to anyone. Even so, the fact that she didn't question being provided water and crackers gave him hope that she did have someone at least, someone who had taken care of them, who had been there for them. Then he pondered what might have happened to that person, considering where and how they had picked up the traveler, there was a good chance the person didn't make it out alive, but if they did, were they looking for his crew's favorite stowaway? Would the traveler remember them? Would they leave as soon as they did? Calderon shook off the train of thought, they would cross that bridge when (and if) they came to it. 

When the traveler finished Cal took back the water bottle and packet, and the traveler laid back again. As he made his way out of the room he heard a sleepy voice. 

"Thank you, Cap'n" the traveler slurred. 

"Get some rest Stowaway," he replied before leaving them to sleep it off. 

#andromeda 6 #calderon lynch #gender-neutral traveler #stowaway #drinking #mild language

[savvy-devine666]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: The Cuphead Show! (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: The Devil/Original Female Character Characters: Original Female Character(s), Cuphead (Cuphead), Mugman (Cuphead), The Devil (Cuphead), King Dice (Cuphead), Henchman (Cuphead), Porkrind (Cuphead), Stickler (Cuphead), Captain Brineybeard (Cuphead), Sally Stageplay, Ms. Chalice (Cuphead) Additional Tags: Humor, Fluff, Family, Friendship, Romance, Slow Burn, Memory Loss, Canon-Typical Violence, Slapstick, Rating May Change, Tags May Change Summary:

Octavia washes up on the beach of Inkwell Isle, with no memories of her past or her life other than her name and age. Upon being taken in by the kind elder Kettle, she is soon embroiled in the various exploits of Cuphead and Mugman as she tries to regain her memories and hopefully return home.

Unfortunately, The Devils’ repeated appearances complicates things for Octavia, and ignites something in, not only her, but the Devil himself, and before tey know it, both face their own inner conflicts.

#the cuphead show #cuphead #mugman #the devil #king dice #female original character #humor #mild language #fanfiction