#please ignore that she is reading a real book and not a tablet

[pencil-peach]

On the Couch

#sulemio #g witch #suletta mercury #miorine rembran #sleeping with my large wife on the couch #please ignore that she is reading a real book and not a tablet

[porcelana-r0ta]

The Curse of Sight, Part 4

[Part 1] [Part 3]

[Ao3 Link] (Available only to Ao3 users)

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Tim Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat.

Ever since Wayne Enterprises’s TikTik went live, Wes has been upgraded from go-fer to Rebecca’s unofficial assistant. He mostly helps pin microphones or scribes for her as she dictates scripts. Sometimes he’s a runner to other departments when she’s too impatient to wait for emailed replies. She also gives him “homework” in the form of scrolling through his TikTok FYP and reporting to her on popular trends and audios so she can keep an eye on teenagers’ interests.

The only real thing he’s still doing with his original internship is his morning coffee runs, which Tim Drake will only occasionally join him on. Not always—he is the co-CEO of WE—but enough that Wes starts to relax on his “Red Robin and Batman are going to rip out my spinal cord” anxieties. His two main concerns are now just “What if Jade tries to make me go back to being a go-fer” and “What if Rebecca wants me to be in another TikTok?”

He’s still running interference with the other teenagers from Amity Park over that one. Especially with Tucker, who had only become more insufferable when he got the letter containing Tim’s signature.

“Wes,” he said into the phone when Wes had finally answered the call instead of pressing decline like he’d done six consecutive times beforehand. “Wes, buddy. I—I need to meet with Tim Drake-Wayne. This is a matter of life and death. WayneTech is only releasing one more PDA and then they’re shutting the PDA line down completely in favor of regular tablets. I can’t let that happen. Wes, please!”

“I think it’s too late for that,” Wes had replied. “Like, this is already in motion. Also, Mr. Drake-Wayne and I aren’t really friends.” He conveniently left out the part where they had known each other long enough to probably be considered friends, at least by normal civilian standards. Wes certainly considers Tim one, at least, but he’s not sure how mutual it is. “I’m just an intern who ran into him on a coffee run, and I got his signature. There’s not much more I can do for you.”

Tucker made the sound of a dying lamb, “Wes, please. I’ll do anything.”

Wes paused, tempted to say, Then admit what Danny is.

He bit his tongue and cleared his throat, “Anything?”

“Anything, man. Please!”

“Then perish.” Wes ended the call and ignored Tucker’s resulting onslaught of texts.

But that was a few days ago, and now Tucker only intermittently asks for Wes to convince Tim to save his beloved line of WayneTech PDAs. Wes wants to send a mean text about outdated technology, but he manages to hold back and continue to leave the other on unread.

Maybe it’s still mean to ghost (ha) him like that, but it’s also mean to harass Wes about the PDAs when he’s just a lowly intern. He just gets the fucking coffee.

(Nevermind the whole, you know, the friendship is real thing.)

Soon, getting coffee for the 73rd floor with Tim turns into hanging out with Tim for a few hours after their shifts. It starts slowly, with Wes mentioning off-hand that he’s going to the library, and Tim mentioning that he hasn’t been to the library in a while, so Wes invites him out. And they go to the library, check out some books, and then realize, Oh, hey, it’s a little late. Wanna head to Batburger for some food? And then they go out to eat and take turns reading the first chapter of the books they’ve chosen to each other.

And then Wes is inviting him over to his house, or Tim is inviting him out to eat, or to the movies, or whatever. No invitation to Wayne Manor, not that Wes expects one or even really wants one—a house full of Bats? No, thanks.

And Wes wasn’t kidding about the kidnapping/hostage bait, either: just last week, Dick Grayson had been held hostage in Bludhaven, not as a police officer, but as Brucie Wayne’s beloved first child. Interestingly enough, it wasn’t even Bludhaven’s own hero Nightwing who saved the day, but rather Gotham City’s Batman and Robin.

So, yeah. Not being spotted at the Manor? Tim wearing sunglasses and hoodies whenever they hang out in public? Totally fine by Wes, thank you very much.

Plus, it keeps Tucker from really blowing his phone up.  

“Hey,” starts Tim one day after being invited over to Wes’s house after work. “Do you think you and Rebecca would be willing to work at a Wayne Gala?”

They’re lazing about on the couch in the living room with Criminal Minds playing on the TV before them. They’re both under separate fuzzy throw blankets with a bowl of popcorn taking up residence on the middle cushion between them.

Wes tilts his head, considering, “What gala? And when?” And more importantly, “Will we be getting overtime for it?”

Tim snorts and shoves a fist full of popcorn into his mouth, chews, swallows, then says, “The Pride Gala toward the end of the month. The 26th. And yes, you’ll get time and a half.”

“Ah,” says Wes. He remembers how much more openly supportive of LGBTQ+ rights Bruce Wayne had become when Tim began dating some guy named Bernard Dowd from his school last year. (Not that he hadn't been supportive beforehand.) They’ve been broken up for a while, but he knows the two are still on friendly terms because the tabloids publish photos of them hanging out every once in a while and hypothesize that the flame is rekindling. “I mean, I have literally no other friends in Gotham, so I’m game. I don’t know about Rebecca, though. She probably has a life.”

“Probably?” Tim asks.

He shrugs, “I mean. She makes a lot of memes. I don’t know what your social life is like if you make as many memes as she does.” He shakes his head to himself, then asks, “I’m guessing you want something on TikTok about the Gala?”

“Yeah.” Tim shifts on the couch so he can face Wes more, and Wes turns as well. “Bruce says that some of Gotham’s elite need a reminder that he’s not a fan of their bigotry and that he doesn’t like doing business with idiots.”

Well. That sounds like the Brucie Wayne who loves his children and made a whole public spectacle of babying Dick Grayson after his rescue in Bludhaven last week.

“I’m down if Rebecca is down,” Wes says. “I don’t know about going if she can’t make it, though. I don’t think I’d do well around rich people without a poor person by my side. Eat the rich and all that—no offense.”

Tim snorts at that, “None taken. We can be kinda snobby. I hope I don’t come off too snobby?”

“Well, you haven’t asked me about my favorite place to go skiing yet, so you’re doing pretty good.”

“I haven’t even been skiing,” Tim says.

Wes thinks about how during his cyberstalking of Tim, he’d found several pictures of the Drake parents on their own skiing vacations, all suspiciously missing Tim, even though he’d have been old enough to attend according to the time stamp. His heart clenches and his body goes cold.

He wraps the blanket around him tighter, “What, no way! That’s criminal. That’s, like, the basic necessity of proving wealth. You need to have Mr. Wayne take you some time.”

Tim’s nose wrinkles in disgust, “Just call him Bruce. Hearing ‘Mr. Wayne’ from someone who isn’t a journalist or an employee is weird.”

“Tim. I am an employee.”

His friend’s ears go a smidge red, probably embarrassed to have forgotten so easily, if Wes had to guess, “You hardly count. Besides, I don’t wanna go skiing. I’d probably break all my limbs.”

Ah, right. The classic “I’m too clumsy to be a superhero” defense. The only Waynes who couldn’t use that excuse were Dick Grayson (a literal Flying Grayson) and Damian Wayne, who would probably pop a blood vessel if he was anything less than the perfect heir.

Danny was genuinely clumsy, at least. Even before he dropped all those beakers in science, he was always tripping over literal air.

“Well, you can do some other rich person activity. Like, I dunno, having a pet tiger, or something.”

“Damian would love that. He has a pet cow in a barn on the Wayne property.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I would never lie.”

“What’s its name?”

“Her name is Bat-Cow.”

….You’re fucking kidding me.

“Like… after Batman?” These people aren’t subtle. Why the fuck is Wes the only person capable of figuring anything out? Why was he cursed like this?

Or is it the other way around? Is everyone else just cursed with obliviousness, and Wes has some kind of immunity?

“Yeah, like Batman. It’s because she has a spot on her forehead that looks like a bat.”

“Of course she does.” Because why not? It’s not like anyone but Wes has eyes and brain cells, after all. Hell, the Waynes might as well dress up as their alter egos for Halloween. It’s not like anyone will fucking notice. Gotham society would probably have a grand ol' laugh about the ridiculousness of Brucie Wayne dressing up as the Bat. Ha, impossible!

“She’s the reason Damian is a vegetarian.”

“Okay, that’s adorable.”

“It’s really not. He’s a Demon Spawn.”

“That’s a rude thing to call your little brother.” Never mind that he’s called his cousin, Kyle, much worse.

“Ew, spoken like an only child.”

“Shut it. Do you guys have any other pets?”

Tim nods, “Yeah. They’re all Damian’s, though. He has a cat named Alfred the Cat, who isn’t to be confused with Alfred Pennyworth, the butler who’s honestly more like our grandpa and Bruce’s dad. Then there’s Titus, a dog. And Dick has a dog named Haley who he sometimes brings to the Manor for ‘playdates’ with Titus, but it’s really so Damian can fawn over her without feeling embarrassed over it.”

“Gross, that’s sickeningly sweet.” Wes chews some popcorn consideringly, “You know… that might be a good TikTok, too.”

“What? Meeting the pets?”

“No. Well, yes.” He thinks back to some of his mother’s rants, and then Rebecca’s own rants. “Not to make it sound like my mom just tells me everything, but she says that the public views Damian as kinda snobby. Or at least stiff. Letting him do some kind of ‘introducing the Wayne Family Pets’ TikTok might help with that. People love pets."

“Yeah, well, Damian hates cameras.” Tim’s voice is more than a little tense, and Wes doesn’t need to be told in words that he’s walking into more dangerous territory.

He shrugs, “Just an idea. If Damian is uninterested, he doesn’t have to. I just figure that using the pets—animals he loves enough to go vegetarian over—to humanize him to the press would be easier than, like, traumatizing him on Good Morning, Gotham or something.”

Wes doesn’t mention how a lot of the press and public’s view of Damian stems from racism thanks to his obviously Middle Eastern blood. He doesn’t think he needs to—Tim and the rest of the Waynes are already well aware.

“He’d traumatize them, really. But I see your point.”

Wes snorts, if only to keep up his façade, “He’s a twelve-year-old boy. What can he do?”

Tim gives an amused smile, an inside joke that he doesn’t know Wes is in on, and says, “Yeah, you're right.”

xxXxx

At work the next day, Rebecca squeals with delight when Wes asks her about going to the Pride Gala for work, and immediately starts drawing up script ideas. Halfway through Script #5, she freezes, and says, “Oh my god, I have nothing to wear to the Gala!”

Wes looks at her in confusion, “What do you mean? We’re basically going as the help. Can’t we just wear something professional?”

She sends him a withering glare, “Ugh, you’re such a teenage boy. This is a Wayne Gala! And even better, it’s the Pride Gala! All the donations go to the Trevor Project. We– we can’t just show up in sweats and a hoodie!”

“That’s… that’s not at all what I was suggesting? I said professional? Does professional mean something different in Gotham?”

Rebecca’s brow is pinched, “Listen. This is a Wayne Gala. That’s a big fuckin’ deal, you non-Gothamite. Even the press dresses up for the Galas.”

“Oh, okay.” Uncertain, Wes pulls out his phone and texts Tim about her concerns.

W: Hey Tim Rebecca says that we can’t wear prof clothes to the gala bc we’ll look too homeless. Is there, like, an actual dress code to follow?

The reply is swift for someone who is a CEO of a whole entire Fortune 500 company.

T: Don’t worry about clothes. WE will provide a fitting and the formal wear for you both to keep. I assume this means Rebecca is down?

W: Yeah. And I’ll let her know.

“Tim says that WE is gonna provide the formal wear,” he tells her while she’s in the middle of a panic attack.

“Are you texting him right now?” Rebecca asks. “Ask him when we need to be fitted. And make sure he knows we won’t be fitted outside of work hours unless we’re getting time and a half.”

Wes rolls his eyes but obligingly relays the message.

T: I am going to talk to Damian about your idea today. If he is receptive, I am thinking that you and Rebecca would clock in like normal on Friday but would accompany me to be fitted, and then go to Wayne Manor to film that “introduction to the Wayne Family Pets” TikTok.

W: Let me run that by Rebecca

He explains the idea they’d discussed yesterday about the pets, and then Tim’s proposal for Friday. Instead of verbally saying anything, Rebecca snatches his phone from him and ignores his indignant yelp, and plays an impressive game of keep-away as she types something with one hand and uses her other hand to bat away his angry attempts to reclaim his property. After a few moments of this struggle in her tiny cubicle, Rebecca lets out an “ah-ha” and hands the phone back to Wes.

He quickly takes in the damage:

W: Hi Mr. Drake-Wayne it’s Rebecca!!! I stole Wes’s phone :) I’m totally down with using company time for this and so is Wes 🙂 you’re way better than my old boss at Taco Hell btw. Also does WE buying our formal wear include buying shoes and accessories?

“This feels exploitative,” Wes says with an uncomfortable twist in his stomach.

“That’s why I took your phone instead of asking you to ask,” she says. “I get to be the bad guy, and you get to be friends with your friend without feeling like a gold-digger. Everyone wins.”

“No. I feel like trash.”

“Sorry.” And to her credit, she does look apologetic. “But I have student loans to pay off, rent, and other bills, and no heels that would go with anything WE will provide. I can’t afford this and I won’t feel bad for asking my rich boss to pay for it all as a work expense.”

On the surface, Wes understands that. He knows that he’s not poor-poor in the way that lots of people are. His mom has a job at Wayne Enterprises, for fuck’s sake, and he likely won’t have to worry about college as long as he chooses someplace sensible. But asking for so much from Tim, from his friend, leaves him feeling hollowed out and filled back up with swamp mud.

His phone lights up with a notification.

T: Hi, Rebecca. And of course! You’ll have to do your own hair and makeup, though. And I’m glad to be better than your old boss :)

Wordlessly, he shows the text to Rebecca, who nods, “Acceptable terms.”

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he says.

He walks away and hides in his mom’s office for the rest of the day.

xxXxx

Tag List:

@theamazingfox @quietlyscared @lumosfeather18581   @blankliferain @amercurio @gin2212 @starscreamlover @hoarder-of-gender @the-ghost-trader @iariinay @ectoplasm024

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#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #wes weston #tim drake #wes weston/tim drake #tim drake/wes weston #tucker foley #stalker buddies au #stalking stalking #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

L’histoire secrète de la mer /// Chapter 1

Hi! Welcome to the first chapter of the Fili fic. This whole story is gonna be a bit long winded, so hopefully you're all in for the long term, hope you enjoy! x

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Fili x oc/reader - Kili x oc (for this POV fic visit my navigation) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 1407

Warnings: None

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Soon available on Wattpad and AO3

< Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 >

PART 1: Chapter 1 -

The Ocean has its silent caves.

Aquaphile (Definition): Someone who is an enthusiast of all things related to the water. (Noun / Origin: Greek-English / a-qua-phi-le)

Lake District, Cumbria, North-West England - Modern Day Earth, August 2022

English weather truly loves to give the middle finger sometimes, especially on a day out you planned for weeks in advance.

But this is England we’re talking about, so despite the already dwindling faith you put in the weatherman, you prepare for every possible element for when you step out the front door.

I was glad I had this in mind when packing for a week trip to the Lake District. Windermere is notorious for giving not one, but two middle fingers, having more rainy  days than dry in the year.

 ‘And just our luck, it happens today,’ I thought, my eyes boring holes into the drawing on my tablet. The rolling grey skies grew darker from the curtains of rain hammering down into the soil, and periodically, the shuttle bus would sway slightly from the aggressive wind, creating a silent feeling of unease for the small group of passengers taking the ride to the hostel.

Feeling my frustration grow, I prodded aggressively at the ‘undo’ button, trying my best to ignore the way the swaying vehicle would cause my pen to jerk about. Shifting my legs to get more comfortable, I squinted at the bright screen, scouring for any imperfections in the drawing I was seconds away from giving up. Satisfied with what I has so far, I carried on.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Kate to my right as she leant down to pick up and rummage through her bag, pulling out a small book on glaciers. I had practically thrown it at her head once she had proposed the idea travelling up to the lakes. We spent a week packing, with me almost bringing down the entire bookshelf trying to find my geography books (as Kate so graciously put it), that now took up the entire bottom of my rucksack.

She read for a while, but eventually her eyes began to droop, sweeping around tiredly at what was around her. I remained in my shrimp position, headphones on and blasting music as I carried on with my drawing. Kate propped her legs up, resting the book on her knees as she took out the bookmark and started reading from where she left off, and I returned to my tablet, both of us tuning out the murmurs and whispers of the other holiday makers around us.

Around twenty minutes of quiet passed, until the driver up front announced our arrival would be soon, causing a stir as everyone began to gather their bags. Kate nudged my knee with the book in her hand, waiting as I slipped my headphones off and around my neck,

“Pack your stuff away,” she whispered, “I’ll make sure to get the booking up.”

Both of us began our respectable jobs, I made sure everything that had been brought out on the ride was back in its place, whilst Kate scrolled her phone until she brought up the booking reference. Considering the rainy weather, we both slipped on our raincoats before slinging the bags over our shoulders, waiting for the bus to slow to a stop. Soon enough, with both hoods pulled up, we squeezed down the aisle along with everyone else and stepped out into the fierce winds and rain.

The sound of the continuous downpour and gravel crunching underfoot filled my ears as I scoured the surrounding area for the hostel. Said hostel was some ways down the winding lane in front of us, nestled within a wide valley surrounded by green, speckled hills smothered with trees, curving down to cradle the small building that stood politely at the bottom. Running from the top of the valley down past the hostel was a small river, threatening to burst at the banks from the onslaught of torrential downpour.

A freak gust of wind and the noise of the shuttle bus pulling away seemed to usher everyone forward, and we began the trudge through the churned up mud and soaking puddles. By the looks on everyone faces, we were all desperate to escape the miserable weather as swiftly as possible.

“Tomorrow better be the light clouds we were promised,” I groaned over the noise, my face twisting in further annoyance as I looked down to find my shoes and trousers were already caked in mud, “cuz I don’t wanna be stuck in a dingy hostel waiting for all this to blow over.”

Kate hummed tiredly in reply, agreeing since despite how much we adored the rain, this type of weather wasn’t ideal for hiking up mountains in, no matter how much of an adventure it would be. But tomorrow could wait, since right now, nothing but a warm drink and comfy bed could satisfy us until tomorrow.

After slipping over almost twice, whilst quietly laughing at those who did, we crossed the threshold of the hostel, kicking off our mud clogged hiking boots immediately as to not tread dirt all over the place. We also made sure to give one of the men from the bus stink eye as he trampled past, doing quite the opposite, smearing whatever, wherever, much to the dismay of the poor lady at the desk. Thank god any carpet was yet to appear.

Approaching the desk, I gently placed my boots on the floor as I watched Kate display the booking on my phone to the lady behind it. She reached under the desk and brought out a set of two keys, handing them over. We thanked her politely and wandered further into the building, leaving her with the now nervous man who had finally noticed what was on the bottom of his shoes.

Meandering upstairs and down a few corridors of the small hostel, the door sign eventually matched the key.

“Finally!” Kate exclaimed in relief, excitedly twisting the key in the lock until she felt a click.

I turned to her with a face of mocked exasperation.

“13?” I questioned. “Weren’t there at least ten rooms available with a different number?”

“It’s my lucky number,” she stated nonchalantly, using her shoulder to budge the door open. She emptied one hand of luggage onto the floor to flip the light switch. “It’s quite funny watching the looks on people’s faces when I tell them.”

With an amused roll of my eyes, I followed in and dumped my own bags on the floor. With light now illuminating the room, we turned to inspect our surroundings.

The room was nothing special, just a plain and simple double bedroom; two single beds; a pair of small bedside drawers sat in between, small lamps on top; two wardrobes pushed against the walls at the foot of each bed; and a few portraits depicting the natural surroundings hung up on the walls.

Like I said, plain and simple.

Tucking my shoes into the corner, I crossed the room with Kate trailing behind and clambered over the creaking bed on the right to reach to window. Gazing out into the valley, I realised the rain had slowed to a stop, now able to make out the details of the thick forest outside. Picking up a key that had been left on the windowsill, I flicked off bits of rust that had begun to form on the metal before carefully slotting it into the keyhole and twisting. Pulling the handle up, I swung open the window, taking a deep inhale as I breathed in the fresh breeze that replaced the stagnant air inside.

After taking in our weeklong view, an hour or so was spent putting away everything we had brought. Kate had overpacked as usual, so I lent her half a drawer, in exchange for the window side. Shoes and wash bags were left by the door since the bathrooms were communal instead of personal.

The remainder of the day was us mostly chilling in our room, taking a couple visits downstairs to explore the rest of the building and eat in the small canteen, before heading to bed for the night.

The next few days trudged by contently as we explored the surrounding area, visiting the nearby towns and returning to our room with a concerning amount of bags brimming with gift shop items. I had gone a little crazy after spotting a fossil shop, if the bag containing half a dozen at the foot of my bed said anything. However, tomorrow’s plans were different.

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

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[thehandsresisthim]

Taming Tenko - Part 1

Shigaraki Tomura I Shimura Tenko / Female Reader

Part 2 can be found here

Contains: sub shig, dom reader, low-key women-hating shig, college au, quirk less au, masturbation, shig nuts on readers scarf, cock stepping, shig humping against readers feet, humiliation, overstimulation, shig and reader are having fun playing pretend lol

"... and Shimura Tenko will work together.", the professor reads out. Tenko raises his head at the mention of his name, what was this about again- oh, yeah, the dumb project. He's annoyed just thinking about it. Who must he work with again? Maybe it would've been worth it to pay proper attention, but he's had a nice gaming session with a player living overseas last night and the difference in time zones was making him stay up was too late.

Some woman walks over to him - and promptly removes his back pack from the chair next to him, plopping down in its place.

Tenko just stares. If it was a guy, he'd probably say something, but although Tenko isn't very found of women, he often finds himself locking up when talking to one. Hopefully she'll leave soon, this is his last class today and he wants nothing but to go home.

"You're Shimura, right? It's nice to meet you. We'll be working together, I guess."

He just nods, and feels the sweat build up. He really wants to scratch at his neck, but he fears that he might make a fool of himself - and he knows that that'll just paint an even bigger target on his back.

Damn normies. Always pouncing on him just because he's not conventionally attractive - foids had it so much easier than men.

She'd probably make fun of him in her group of friends later on, Tenko wouldn't be surprised if she would spread more rumors. Things like that were one of the reasons why he hated getting close to others.

"That's good. My next class starts in a few minutes, so I have to go soon. Would it be okay to meet up on Friday? There's this Cafe, "Pink Cupcake" which serves really good coffee! And we could study there too. I'm free about 3pm, is that okay with you?"

Jesus, she was talkative. It was probably her gender, or she was trying to make up for how she uncomfortable he made her. That had to be it.

He quickly looks through his calendar, which his eyes had been staring at since she started the poor excuse of a conversation.

"I... It's good. I-I be... there, at the Cafe I mean-, yes it works out fine.", Tenko hates how much his voice wavers when he answers and how he struggles to find the proper words.

"Sounds great, see you then. Bye bye, Shimura." the female says and leaves. He hates how friendly she sounds. Females weren't friendly, he knew it. The bullying he had endured in the past proved this, in his mind.

Only when she's already gone he realizes that he never answered to her goodbye. 'Oh well,' Tenko thinks, 'females don't deserve attention like that.'

+++

Where the fuck was she? He had hurried all the way here, after putting in the effort of finding clean clothes for himself and showering, something he honestly rarely did.

The sign on the Cafe clearly read "pink cupcake" in ridiculously curly found. The interior was caked in pastels, with designs that reminded him of the rococo era.

He felt awfully out of place - he was wearing black jeans, a grey hoodie and old converse his sister had handed down to him.

She probably didn't intend on actually meeting him - she just wanted to humiliate him by making him look like he was stood up.

He feels the anger bubbling up. He put in all this effort, and this whore just ignores him?

He'll just leave. Fuck the pro-

"Shimura? Did you not see me? Come on, I preserved us a spot." he hears your still friendly voice.

Before he can react much, you have pulled him towards a big table. He can see a laptop, decorated with way too many stickers, and a few books.

"I already did some studying earlier on for a different subject. We can start now. Why don't you sit down?"

He follows your suggestion, and sits down on the white, wooden chair. The pillow is a light blue, and it pisses him off for some reason.

He takes out his tablet, and rests it on the table.

"Ok, so, here's everything that needs to be in our presentation. Do you think we could split it into parts, so that we both have different things to do?"

He nods, and throws a look at the instructions on the screen of his tablet.

"I... I'll do section one, three, four and five," he starts, immediately regretting his words. 'That came out way to bossy,' he scolds himself mentally.

'Not that I care about the comfort of some woman', he reminds himself in his head, 'I just want to ensure that she doesn't end up bullying me for being rude.'

"Sounds great. Your previous presentations have always been great, so I'm real happy to be working with you!" she answers.

'Why is she so friendly to me?' he complains in his head, 'dumb bimbo.'

'That sounded genuine,' a part of himself wonders before he can stop it.

+++

An hour later, both of you having had worked a good amount on the project, you decided to stop and meet up again next week - you had asked him for his number so that you both could text. Flustered, he had written it down and handed the paper to you. It had been the first time a woman had asked him for his number.

As Tenko walks out of the Cafe, he notices two things: firstly, you are walking in the same direction as him, and secondly, he didn't bring a jacket, and the cold air doesn't feel nice. 'Great', he thinks.

You walk right beside him, and he hates how okay he is with it. You both had talked a bit about all kinds of things - he had noticed you had a few games he also played on your laptop, and video games was one of the few things he could talk much about, so he asked about it. You had hit it off from there, noticing a similar taste in many things.

At first, it had bothered him that he had gotten along with a female, but you somehow managed to convince him you were genuine. He could say that he disliked you less than other females, at least.

As you continued to walk, Tenko slowly started trembling. It was really cold, and he found himself jealous of your scarf and warm-looking jacket.

Frustrated, he moved his hands deeper down into his hoodie.

"Are you cold, Shimura?" your voice questions. He glares at you. Why did you insist on being so concerned? Females weren't supposed to care about beta males like him.

"Y... yes, but it's fine." he says, but he still trembles, and you seem to notice.

You shake your head. Tenko freezes - that's it. She hates him now, he must've done something wrong, he'll get bullied again.

"Stay still for a moment, please," you instruct and before he can protest, he feels your warm fingers wrapping your scarf around him. 'It has been directly on her skin, and the warmth due to that is super comforting' he can't help but appreciate the gesture.

"Thank you." he says, and he means it.

'Holy fuck', Tenko remarks in his head, 'her fingers felt so good on my neck.' He'll definitely jerk off to the memory at home. And her smell... It's all over the scarf.

He's grateful that the Hoodie is long enough to cover his crotch - he doesn't want to show just how turned on he is.

The rest of the way home, he can't help but feel like he's in heaven.

As he enters the apartment, he quickly takes his shoes off and then immediately goes into his bedroom, closing the door behind him and locking it.

'Thank goodness I'm home', he thinks and rips of his pants and hoodie, immediately palming his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear.

His brain is flashing images through his mind: you finding out what a pervert he is, and deciding that he needs a punishment, you edging him until he breaks down crying, but still not letting him release, you stepping on his private parts, you keeping him on a leash and calling him mutt...

Tenko can no longer take it - he removes his boxers as well, and grabs your scarf in his lust-driven haze. He didn't think that taking part in a scene like this - pretending to be a little pervert that didn't know you beforehand after your professor had previously mentioned that you and him would be working together - would turn him on this much. "Fuck, mistress, please..."

Here's part two!

#Shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #Tomura shigaraki x reader #Shigaraki x you #Shigaraki x y/n #Shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki smut #Shigaraki Tomura smut #Bnha smut #Sub shigaraki #Sub shigaraki Tomura #Mha smut #Shigaraki Tomura #Shigaraki #Dom Reader

[90spumkin]

Invisible

Request:  hi can you please do a spencer reid x bau fem reader and can it based on the song invisible by 5sos where the reader feels like she is invisible because everybody talks over her and trips her and nobody does anything.also they hate her besides spencer, rossi, penelope and hotch and they hate her because of jj because she is jealous of how the reader and spencer are close together so one day the reader gets kidnapped and is forced to read her song journal or her journal.so spencer gets mad at the team when they try to confront him

A/N: I really hope this is what you were looking for when you made the request. I hope it’s not absolute trash. Thank you for the request anon! The song that was apart of the request is Invisible by 5 Seconds of Summer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU! Reader

Warnings: slight swearing, angst I think, description of torture 

Word Count: 1875

It was a nice sunny day in Virginia, one of its less humid days. That should be a sign it was going to be a good day, right? Wrong, y/n had a bad gut feeling it was going to be a very bad day. Worse than normal.

Y/n was sitting in the BAU parking garage watching a few people from her team walk in the building. Emily, JJ, and Morgan were genuinely nice people…except to y/n. They hadn’t always been rude or distant towards her that just started up recently, and y/n knew why. She took a deep breath and exited her car, making her way inside the same way the others had.

She knew her gut feeling was right as soon as she walked through the double glass doors. She tried to make a beeline for her desk, keeping her head low to avoid eye contact. Things didn’t go as planned.

Y/n tripped over a box of files bumping into Morgan who bumped into Emily who spilled coffee all down the front of her white blouse. Y/n instantly started to panic, “Oh my God, Emily I am so sorry! I’ll get some towels!”

Emily gritted her teeth and just said, “Don’t!”, she stormed off grabbing her go bag to change out of her now ruined blouse. Morgan just huffed and made his way to his desk.

Y/n made it to her desk finally with no other accidents. She sat down and put her head in her hands trying to choke back a sob. She felt a presence next to her but didn’t look up till she felt a hand on her shoulder, “Y/n are you okay?”

She looked up to see Spencer Reid standing before her with a worried look on his face. She gave him a small smile. He didn’t seem convinced due to the worry line between his eyebrows deepening. They stared at each other a little longer than what was probably necessary. JJ got their attention by walking by waving files and announcing, “We’ve got a case.”

Y/n saw JJ pause and look at Spencer’s hand on her shoulder and gave y/n a quick glare before continuing her way to the round table room. Spencer moved his hand and started to trail behind JJ while having a conversation with Morgan. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure she was following and when he went to wait for her, she shook her hand urging him on without her.

Why was it so hard to push him away? She knew the others no longer liked her because of how close the two of them had gotten. They felt as if she was stealing Spencer from them when all she wanted was to be friends with them all. She let out the second sigh of the day and made her way to the briefing, falling in step with Hotch and Rossi who both gave her a warm smile.

The briefing went by in a flash. It was a whirlwind of information and thoughts being bounced back and forth, and like always y/n’s insight was overlooked. The flight went by just as fast. After going over the files and new information from the bubbly Garcia, y/n had gone to sit at the back of the plane. The entire time ignoring Spencer’s worried glances.

Once they arrived at their destination, the team split off to do their assignments given by Hotch. Y/n was with Spencer putting together the victimology. The whole time she felt his eyes on her, but she never said a word hoping some how she would become invisible to him like she was to the others.

She didn’t realize how much time had passed when they got a call from Hotch telling them they were closer to the warehouse Garcia had said belong to one of the suspects. They grabbed their vest and took off as fast as humanly possible.

The warehouse was a dark and looming building and y/n felt the hairs on her neck stand up. Spencer walked around the SUV and said, “There’s no time to wait for the others we’re going to have to split up. Meet me in the back, okay?” She nodded and went to scope out the left side of the build, but Spencer grabbed her hand and search her eyes for a moment before giving her hand a quick squeeze and letting go.

She crept around the building, gun aimed and eyes looking for any sign of movement. She thought she heard something behind her, but when she turned, she was met with absolutely nothing. She turned to continue her way towards the back of the building, and that’s when everything went black.

Y/n woke with an ache on the left side of her head and she was pretty sure there was blood running down her face. She was tied to a chair in a big empty room with a light fixture hanging above her. Once her eyes fully focused, she realized there was a camera aimed towards her and man standing behind it.

“Ah you’re awake. Time to have some fun.”, his voice was raspy like he smoked 50 packs of cigarettes a day. Y/n knew the unsub liked to toy with his victims, she saw all the videos in the time before the call from Hotch. He was going to torture her darkest thoughts and deepest secrets from her. Y/n’s lips tingled, and her stomach twisted into knots.

“I know you know what’s about to happen, but I found something that’s going to make this a little more interesting.”, the unsub walked around the camera showing it the journal he held in his hand.

----

Spencer was absolutely frantic, there was no other way to describe it. He felt so stupid for splitting up from y/n. It was his fault she was kidnapped, and it was his fault they were seeing her on the screen. The others were rushing around and he could hear them talking to Garcia trying to figure out where he was keeping her.

On the screen the unsub was waving around a book and Spencer could see the pleading in y/n’s eyes. At the sound of the smack that went across y/n’s face everyone stopped.

“You’re going to read this so your little team watching this really knows what you think of them.”, the unsub was gripping y/n’s jaw tightly. She shook her head viciously which landed another smack across her already bruised cheek.

Tears stung Spencer’s eyes and he said, “We need to find her now!”. JJ put her hand on his arm trying to calm him, but he shrugged it off, “Don’t touch me.”

He turned back towards the screen at the sound of y/n’s broken voice, “Um the first part is part of a song. No one sees me I fade away, lost inside a memory of someone's life It wasn't mine Just me and my shadow and all of my regrets Who am I? Who am I when I don't know myself? Who am I? Who am I? Invisible Wasted days, dreaming of the times I know I can't get back.”. She stopped reading which earned her a cut down the side of her neck, she let out an ear shattering scream. Spencer turned away and looked at Hotch begging him for something. Hotch just shook his head, they don’t have a clue where he was keeping her.

Y/n continued reading but Spencer could no longer watch so he listened, “I never meant to upset anyone. I wanted to belong; I want to be everyone’s friend. I guess I became friends with the wrong person first. JJ was the first to become my friend, but when I told her- when I told her I was crushing on a certain young doctor, that’s when she decided to make my life a living hell. I’m invisible now. My thoughts don’t matter, I don’t matter. I no longer know why I try.”

Y/n stopped and started to beg not to read anymore. Spencer couldn’t move, he could only glare at the woman who claimed to be his best friend. She knew he had feeling for y/n and yet she chose to be cruel to her and keep them apart.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Garcia’s voice through the speakers of the tablet laying on the table telling them she has an address of the unsub’s parent’s lake house. Just like that the team stormed out of the police station in a blur of grim faces and vests.

----

With every word she read, y/n felt as if acid was being poured down her throat. She had paused once again and this time the unsub slammed the journal shut in anger and aggravation.

“That’s it I’m bored.”, and before she knew it there was a rope around her throat and her lugs were burning as she gasped for breath. Her vision began to blur, and darkness was surrounding her mind. Before she passed out, she heard a shout ring out and saw a flash of blonde hair.

When y/n woke up she winced in pain and at the fluorescent lights above her. She let out a groan as she tried to sit up. There was a hand on her shoulder as someone said, “Hey woah take it easy.”

Y/n realized it was JJ and it took everything in her not to flinch away, “What are you doing here?”. There was sadness in the petite blonde woman’s eyes. She glanced down at the floor than back up at y/n as she said, “I’m so sorry for everything that I put you through, what I influenced the others to put you through. I don’t have a good excuse or reason to why I did it, but hearing you saying all those things it broke something in me. Can you ever forgive me?” Tears began to stream down her face as she asked for forgiveness.

Y/n finally saw a glimpse of the woman she had met on her first day at the BAU. She gave her a real smile and nod. Both women let out little chuckles which made the buddle of limbs in the chair in the corner of the room stir. Y/n hadn’t realized Spencer was there asleep. JJ stood to leave saying, “I’ll give you guys some space to talk.”

As soon as Spencer realized y/n was awake he raced to her side mumbling and repeating himself, “I am so so sorry, y/n. I should never have left you.” Y/n grabbed his hands that were clinging to her, “Spencer it’s okay. I’m okay. Nothing that has happened is your fault.”

Spencer turned his head away from her, she brought her hand to his cheek turning him back towards her, “Hey it’s okay I promise.”

“It’s not just that, I didn’t realize how much you were struggling with the others. I want you to know they aren’t going to hurt you anymore, no one will ever hurt you again. I love you, y/n.” He kissed the palm of her hand that was resting on his cheek.

She smiled down at him and she finally felt peace as she said, “I know. I love you too.”

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #anon request #request finished

[dreamescapeswriting]

One Summer In Paris ~ Finale ~ JJK [M]

WORD COUNT: 4.7K

GENRE: Fluffy, romance, ex-lovers to lovers, 

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

DESCRIPTION: Jeon Jungkook had always loved Paris with its amazing views, incredible museums and the small Bookshop right across from the Effiel Tower. It was were he spent a lot of his summer breaks as a kid so he loved it well into his adulthood. There was one bookshop he rented a room in the summer that changed his life. It was a place where he felt happy and at peace whenever he had the chance to stay there. Where he fell in love for the first time and had his first heartbreak, a lot of firsts for him were in Paris. But what happens when he goes back to the same book shop four years later and finds the love of his life in the arms of another with a daughter who looks suspiciously like him…

THEMES: SMUT CHAPTER Single Parent, Jungkook x Fem!Reader, self insert, Smut will be included in a later chapter

MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS || EPILOGUE

After a week of the boys being in Paris the news that Jungkook was a father was being spread throughout the internet and world through the corrected sources this time though. He had to do a formal interview with a magazine company who worked for BigHit and were under their payroll so that the right things were being spoken about. No-one was allowed to just come up to you or Areum in the street or there would be some serious consequences. The relationship between you and Jungkook was never announced since neither of you knew what was happening just yet. As far as the media was concerned you were close friends just raising your daughter to the best of your abilities.

After some investigating everything came to light on how Jungkook was found, it was a mixture of some teenage girl tweeting out a video asking if anyone else thought it looked like Jungkook as well as an “unknown” source. The unknown source came to light as David who’s ego had been bruised too badly that he decided to take it out on both you and Jungkook. Calling everyone he thought of, telling magazines online that he knew where Jungkook was. After one person saw it with the first photograph the teen had tweeted out the news spread like wildfire. David got what was coming to him though, Bighit were suing him for slander against Jungkook.

 All of the magazines painted him as the good guy who had no idea that his daughter existed and you were painted to be the girl who didn't know who Jungkook was at the time of the relationship, it was easier and less messy that way. The world didn't need to know all of the details about your lives together, they didn't need to know every aspect of what you and Jungkook went through. 

"What are you thinking about?" Jungkook questioned when he saw you looking at Areum with Taehyung and Namjoon - they were playing dress-up after just getting back from Disney land that day. The boys had insisted on taking her - along with guards so no one would bother them. 

"How different her life is going to be now." You admitted as Jungkooked wrapped his arms around your body and laid his chin on your shoulder. Things with Jungkook had been a little on and off for the last week neither of you had enough time or space to talk about what was happening. You acted like a real couple but you weren't enterally sure what you were since he was famous...The father of your daughter but it didn't mean you were or weren't dating. 

"Jungkook what-" 

"Let me take you out tonight," You spoke at the same time but you stopped your sentence first and stared into his eyes wondering what to say to him, you were going to ask him what you were together but now he was asking you out on a date.

"What-What?" You stuttered out turning your whole body to look at him this time ignoring everyone else that was in the room with you. 

"Let me take you out, just you and me...Please?" Jungkook had been trying to think of a way to talk to you about life and how things were going to be from now on all week and this was the only way he could think of doing it properly. He'd put so much thought into everything and he was finally ready to have a serious conversation about it all. 

"I didn't think you were allowed to go out publically." You whispered as you thought back to his manager telling him off for trying to sneak out a couple of nights ago. He shrugged his shoulders looking over at his manager who was reading through what everyone was thinking of Jungkook and his family on his tablet. That was what you were, you were a family even if you weren't together anymore...or yet. Some fans had reacted better than others, others claimed that you were faking, Areum wasn't truly his but if anyone took the time to look at Areum or spend time with her they would be able to tell she was in fact related to Jungkook. 

"I'm not but, who said it has to be public...Trust me okay? I'll make this all perfect." You sighed thinking about it for a second, it would be nice to get out of the hotel you seemed to have been stuck in all week. Management had moved you in once the scandal dropped, the shop had been closed since - you wondered what Grace had been thinking about all of this but at the same time after what she told you about what she said to Jungkook, a part of you didn't care.

"I trust you," He smiled leaning forward to kiss your cheek before he made his way over to their manager, you watched him for a couple of seconds before deciding to go and rescue Namjoon and Taehyung from the makeup your daughter had gotten that day. 

"My little princess seems to have turned the princes into princesses." You giggled as you swooped Areum up into your arms and blew a raspberry onto her shoulder playfully, she screamed wildly shouting that you were a dragon trying to steal the princess away. 

"We'll save you!" Taehyung announced loudly pulling out a fake foam sword as he started to hit you on the leg with it but you laughed evilly and ran away with Areum.

Jungkook kept his hands over your eyes as he leads you through the bookshop, you knew where he was taking you since you both had to run away from the hotel while the boys distracted the manager.

"Fuck," You groaned as your arm came into contact with the fifth bookshelf in a row, Jungkook hissed as he flinched. He didn't mean to bang you into every shelf in the shop, in his head this had gone over a lot smoother.

"Sorry." He mumbled as he carefully sat you down on the blanket he had laid out for you already. He'd snuck off to the bookshop earlier that afternoon to make sure everything was ready and now he could finally bring you back here. He was trying to recreate one of your dates together and have it be a nice little surprise. 

"You can open them in a second, hang on." He made sure your eyes were closed before rushing off to turn the main lights off in the store. 

"Open," Your eyes slowly fluttered open and you looked around at the shop floor letting your eyes adjust to the dim lighting. You were snuggled in between two bookshelves, a picnic blanket was on the floor surrounded by small battery-operated candles you knew what he was doing the second you saw it all. 

"Jungkook-" You looked up at him and that was when you spotted the fairy lights lining the top of the shelves to look like a starry night sky. You gasped as your eyes began to well up with tears, he was recreating a night you spent out by the river under the stars. You'd fallen asleep in his arms and he had to carry you home, it was also the night you gave him a tattoo. A small one on his arm just above the inside of his elbow, your initials.

"I got all your favourite foods as well if they're still your favourite. I mean I don't know if you changed it I heard that pregnancy can sometimes effect-" He was cut off when you kissed his lips softly to stop him from nervously rambling on about the food inside of the picnic basket. 

When you pulled away from his lips you looked into his eyes and whispered to him

"This is perfect," He began turning a bright red which made you giggle at the thought that a simple and small kiss could do that to him. It was good to know that you still had that kind of effect on him. 

"Thanks for this," You whispered again as he handed you a small plate and began to load it up with different foods you'd told him you loved before. 

Hours later you were just laying together talking over things when he asked you a question, 

"Do you remember our last date...Before I left?" You were both laying on the floor staring up at the fairy lights, your head was resting on his arm as he questioned you on random things about his time there. The date had been going amazingly so far, there were no phone calls from the boys, no one had tried to interrupt you and it just felt as though nothing had changed over the last four years. As if he hadn't been away and there was a huge fight with one another. It was exactly the way it was supposed to be. How things should have stayed if you had told him. 

"Was that the one where we came back and slept in front of the fireplace?" You questioned him as you popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth, he hummed while nodding his head at you. 

"Yeah I remember it," You started giggling as you remembered Jungkook that night. He'd been so nervous about something that he'd knocked wine all over the floor and all down your dress. 

"You covered me in red wine," You started laughing again and he nervously laughed about it scratching the back of his neck as he remembered it, 

"I was going to tell you that night that I loved you...Then I was going to come clean about who I was...I was always going to tell you, Y/n." Your heart stopped as you heard him admitting this to you. All these years you thought that he never told you because he didn't trust you or something, 

"You were?" He nodded his head as he started to play with your hair, he couldn't bring himself to look at you as he admitted all of this. 

"I was so nervous about it that I spilt drinks, my palms were sweating and I couldn't breathe. I told you when you were asleep though," He chuckled pathetically making his chest rise and fall, you turned to lay on your side facing him and put your head on his chest just laying there as you giggled softly. 

"Doesn't really count if I'm asleep," He smiled weakly as he began rubbing your lower back with his hand just enjoying his time with you while he could. 

The two of you sat there in silence for a few more seconds before you looked down at the floor beside him and bit your lip, 

"I didn't know I was pregnant when I saw you last...I said it to hurt you...I-I didn't know." He looked at you as you began to frown at the floor, 

"I knew you weren't like that so I figured as much." You sniffled a little and sat up as you looked at him seriousness coming into the atmosphere now. 

"I-I wanted to tell you but I didn't know how to get into contact with you." He watched as you seemed to look in pain as you told him this, it had been something that had been weighing on your chest for a while since you told him that and you hated yourself for doing it to him. 

"We didn't really end on good terms...I should have tried to contact you as well...I really do love you Y/n-" He stopped as he realised he said "love" instead of the past tense. It was true. He'd been in love with you since the moment he laid eyes on you, he'd never believed in love at first sight until then. He'd always had it set in his mind that when he met the love of his life he would hear alarm bells but instead of alarm bells when he met you it was the church bells and a whole choir singing loudly so he could hear and know it was you.

"I-I love you too." Your eyes were wide at first but you knew it was true, there was no one else that you could ever love more than Jungkook - other than Areum but that was a different kind of love. There was no one else in the world that was more perfect for you. 

It happened suddenly, you were laid below Jungkook as he kissed you passionately, his hands keeping him pressed above you while your hands worked their way into his hair. 

"I love you," He whispered against your lips as he kissed you again, you giggled pulling him down closer to your lips. 

"I love you too," He smirked hearing the words leave your mouth he never wanted you to stop saying them to him, 

"Say it again," He whined out desperately as you pulled back from the kiss to look him in the eyes.

"I love you Jeon Jungkook," He smiled brightly bringing you into another kiss, the sparks from before all still there. The same church bells and choir singing loudly for him to know that this was real, this is where his heart belonged.

An intense makeout session lead to you sitting on the floor of the book shop now holding a stick and poke tattoo kit Jungkook had brought along with him again, just like the first time you gave him a tattoo. 

"This is insane, you can go and get a real one Guk." You looked at him nervously and he shook his head waiting for you to just tattoo him. This meant more to him than going to have a real one done, 

"I want you to be the one to do this," He admitted as he handed you everything you needed. He'd show you what he wanted done on his arm, 

"Where?" You questioned looking at Areum's name written in a fancy font on a piece of paper. He stripped out of his shirt to reveal his tattooed arms and you couldn't help but look at them all. Wanting to know every story to each and every one of them but then your eyes found his first one. The small one that you'd done before, 

"I want it here," He whispered pointing to the blank space below your initials on his arm, as soon as you saw the initials you felt a warm feeling spread all over your body.

"Y-You didn't cover it?" He shook his head as your eyes welled up with tears, the thought of him keeping a part of you with him all the time made you want to cry. 

"I-I kept your shirt..." You admitted as your tears began to leave your eyes, your vision returning to normal as you took hold of the kit and got ready to tattoo him. He had a huge smile on his face as he thought about you snuggled into his shirt whenever you missed him or something. 

"You're sure?" You questioned as you held his arm in your hand referring to the tattoo once again, 

"Positive," With that you began inking his arm with the tools while holding him steady, apologising every three seconds in case it was hurting him too much.

"It's perfect," He whispered as you applied some tattoo goo he'd brought along with him before placing the tattoo under some cling film to keep it protected for the first night. 

"Just like her," You whispered as you stared at your handy work, it looked really good to say you'd only ever done small ones before. 

"She is," Jungkook chuckled while holding your hand in his. The air was silent but it wasn't the awkward kind, it was just a nice silenced between you both before he began leaning into you again. 

"Say it again." He begged as he looked into your eyes. You knew what he was talking about without him saying it, it was all he ever wanted to hear from now on. 

"No, I've said it all night." You groaned jokingly as you tried to push him away from you but he dragged you to sit on his lap and whispered it in your ear as he kisses your neck softly. 

"Say it," He begged while kissing down your jaw, each kiss making you needier each second. 

"Say it." He growled pulling you down on his lap harder making you whimper, this time it was an order and you pushed your hands into his hair whimpering as he kissed your neck.

"I, Y/n Y/l/n love you, Jeon Jungkook." He smirked before kissing up to your lips and kissing you roughly, you bit down on his lip playfully earning a groan from him and you giggled. 

"Fuck, I love you too, I love you so much Y/n," He whimpered as he laid your down below him on the floor, you wrapped your legs around his waist not wanting him to go away just yet but he didn't. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip and you granted him access, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth while you sucked on it a little bit. He ground his hips down into you while smirked, you moaned as you felt how hard he was behind the jeans he was wearing. 

"Needy?" You teased running your hand down the front of his chest before palming him through the rough fabric of his pants, 

"Very." He grunted as you began to undo his belt buckle, pushing him to lay down on the floor as you worked your way out of his jeans. 

"W-What are you doing-" He groaned loudly as you took him from his boxer and began massaging him in your hand, he was so much bigger than you remembered and his tip was bright red. 

"So needy baby," You cooed at him before looking up into his eyes, he watched you, infatuated with what you were going to do. 

"P-Please-" Your tongue began licking small but fast strokes on his head, paying more attention to his slit which was already dripping with precum. You placed the tip into your mouth sucking him clean while he threw his head back against the floor and moaned out your name. 

"Fuck please...I-I need more," You looked up at him while pumping him in your hand, he looked so breathtaking laid out for you like this. Needy and begging for you, you licked the underside of his cock from base to tip making sure to coat him in enough salvia so you could glide him in and out of your mouth with his but he moaned out as soon as you touched him. 

"Shit baby-" As soon as your mouth was around his cock it was as if a switch had gone off in his mind, he was no longer the whining and begging boy he'd just been for you but now he was grunted and finding it hard to control himself. 

You could see he was debating taking your head in his hands so you reached for his hands while you bobbed your head slowly, you placed his hands into your hair and nodded slight giving him the all-clear to take over. 

"Fuck I love you so fucking much." He forced your head down until your nose was pressed against his groin, you held back the gag and tears wanting him to feel as much pleasure as possible and he moaned out. Moving your head softly with his hands as he began to buck up into your mouth, 

"So fucking warm, I bet you're dripping aren't you." He smirked watching the way you avoided his gaze, he continued thrusting into your mouth as you whined out around him sending vibrations through his body. 

"Fuck, pull off baby, pull off," You pulled away and a sad expression appeared on your face, you wiped your lips instantly thinking you'd done something wrong when he attacked you with hungry kisses. Ripping your shirt open before removing your skirt in what seemed like one movement. You were left in your black panties and matching bra, 

"Expecting something tonight?" He chuckled while playing with the band of your panties, you shook your head so he ripped the panties off throwing the thin fabric somewhere in the shop. 

"Jungkook! That was my only good pair." He pushed you down onto the floor, pulling your ass into the air while keeping your chest flat on the floor. 

"I'll buy you some new ones," He whispered as he bent down to admire your core, smirking as he watched just how wet you were. 

"You always were so needy for me," He smirked running one finger over your folds making your hips buck for more but he held you in place, 

"If you're a good girl, good things will come." He placed a kiss on your core making you whine out and close your eyes tightly. 

"Please," You practically begged him and so he pushed his tongue into you making your eyes widen at the feeling, it had been so long since you'd had anything nearly as passionate as this. He hummed into your cunt before swirling his tongue inside of you, using his thumb to attack your clit. 

"So fucking wet, you taste so good baby girl," The name made you clench around his two fingers that were buried knuckle deep inside of you. 

"You like that? You like it when I call you baby girl?" He questioned pushing his fingers in and out of you roughly while you whimpered below him not being able to form words from the feeling of him.

"I'm taking that as a yes," He chuckled wickedly before pushing his tongue back into your cunt, moaning into your whenever you'd clench around his tongue. 

"Ugh shit, Jungkook!" You screamed out gripping onto the blanket below you as you came unexpectedly and out of nowhere onto his tongue. Your body slipped leaving you to lay down on the blanket, your ass still in the air just a little, 

"Good girl," He whispered turning you around to face him, you licked your lips as you roughly brought him down into another kiss trying to position him between your legs. You wanted to feel him inside of you, you wanted to feel him filling your walls up the way he used to.

"U-Agh fucking Jesus," Jungkook moaned as he slowly pushed into you, he kept himself steady holding himself in place at your hilt as you tried to adjust to him again. You could feel every inch of him inside of you which already made your head spin at the thought of it. The number of times you'd brought yourself to the edge just thinking about him touching you instead of yourself was never enough. You could never make yourself feel the way he was making you feel right now.

"M-Move," You whispered to him before kissing him roughly again, he followed your orders and began to push in and out of you slowly at first making you moan into his mouth. 

"So tight," He grunted taking your right leg and putting it over his shoulder, the sudden movement making you cry out in pleasure as he hit you deeper than before. 

"T-There, T-There! Right there." You repeated as he continued to hit you at that same spot over and over again making you cry out, you ran your nails down his bare back and he smirked as you clenched with each thrust. 

"That's it, baby, let me feel you do that again." He roughly slammed into you holding himself in place and you screamed out his name rolling your head back and arching your back off the floor. 

"JUNGKOOK!" Nothing could compare to this, he continued to roughly hit into that spot that made your eyes roll back and the fairy lights look like real stars. 

"F-Faster...M-More, need more." You whimpered wanting him to hit that exact spot more and more with each thrust and he moaned back at you as he began to change his pace. Swiftly pushing in and out of you roughly watching the way your head rolled back and you moaned out his name. 

"S-Shit baby, I- I can't keep this up." He admitted as he began rubbing your clit with his thumb and your whole body began to shake, your thighs aching as you could feel the pressing orgasm begin to rise up in your body.

"C-Cum...I-I wanna cum...F-Feel you cum," Your sentence was a mess as were you but you were begging for him to cum and to let you cum. 

"Together?" He whispered while kissing you softly not matching his thrusts which were still rough and quick, you managed to nod while moaning out his name and he smirked feeling you getting closer with him. 

"S-Shit," You cried out as his thumb began to rub your clit in rougher circles, tugging on it a little making you whimper and gasp as your orgasm began to build. The tightness in your stomach grew tighter until you snapped around him, your legs wrapping around his waist to hold him deep inside of you as you came around his length. 

"Jungkook, shit." You whimpered out as he kissed you roughly, cumming into you as you held him deep, your walls clenching around him even after you came down from your high. 

The fireplace was crackling as you laid in front of it, naked and sprawled out beside Jungkook who was sweating from the activities you'd just done again for the sixth time that night. There was one thing playing on your minds though, one lingering thought that neither of you wanted to talk about but had to talk about sooner or later. That was about him going home. Going to Korea.

"We have to talk about something," He whispered as you laid your head down on his sweaty chest nodding along to him, you knew what was coming. 

"I have to go soon...But I don't want this to end...I don't want to be away from you and Areum." The thought had crossed your mind about how this would all work out, being in different countries while you shared a daughter and were hopelessly in love with one another.

"I don't want to be away from you either." You admitted as you looked up into his eyes, resting your chin on his chest as you stared into his eyes. 

"W-Well what- What if you-" You knew what he was trying to say and ask of you and again the thought had crossed your mind, all of the positives about it but then all of the negatives came along with it. 

"Move to Korea?" You questioned to make sure you were on the same page as him. He nodded his head slowly while linking your hands with his and starting at you sadly, 

"I-I wouldn't know how to do that...W-What if things go bad between us what-"

"Ignore the what-ifs, this...This is perfect. What we have it right..." You knew he was right on that part, there was nothing that could happen between you and Jungkook that could break you apart anymore. You were hopelessly in love with him and nothing was ever going to change that.

"I wouldn't know how to move to another country...I-I don't even speak much Korean, how would Areum go to school." You sat up as you panicked thinking about everything but Jungkook took your arms in his hands and shook his head. 

"We can fix that, I can make things work...She can be homeschooled, We can look into visa's and stuff." He whispered trying to reassure you that everything would be okay, the longer he held you the more you knew it was the right thing to do and the more you thought that nothing could go wrong with this, with him by your side. 

"I suppose there are lots of huge book stores in Korea I could get a job in..." He smiled brightly as he heard you calming down and began to talk about what you could do there. You'd always expressed your love for travelling and you'd never been before.

"I-I'll have to talk to Areum about it and Grace...I'll need to find someone that will take the shop..." You began planning out what was going to happen in your head but Jungkook just brought you into a soft and loving kiss as he pulled you close to him again. 

"Everything will work out, I promise." He whispered as he leant down to kiss you once again, running his hands up your sides as he got excited over the thought of getting to live out the rest of his life with you.

A/n: This fic was super short and sweet but I hope you guys enjoyed it!  Thank you to those who took the time to read it! I hope you can enjoy any future works I aim to put out 🥰💞 It will probably be a while until my next series as I’m working on a Stray Kids Minho one!

MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS || EPILOGUE

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @neverthefirstchoice​ @jikooksgirl19​ @jungkooksseuphoria​ @queenmasterxx​ @oosnapitskat​ @janieooo​ @preciouschimine​    @koremis​ @keijilovebot​ @silscintilla​ @mayafravoli

#bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagines #seokjin #kim seokjin #jin #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #hoseok #jhope #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #namjoon #park jimin #jimin

[bored-storyteller]

Oh my, thank you!  Thanks for bringing this to me, I love Sally Face! It's one of my favorite indie games ever! I really hope it meets your expectations.

NOTES: I imagined the more adult Sal, but beyond that there are no other references to the timeline of the original story, except some canonical episodes mentioned.

34- Sally Face - Sal Fisher x Reader

"You can see me"

With a last glance at the clock, you quickly close the water bottle, at the same time grabbing the full glass in the same hand that you also hold the medicine box.

You're pretty sure you find Sal in his room, probably bent over his guitar. Surely it is for that reason that he has not paid attention to his therapy.

It doesn't happen often, in fact, it rarely happens that you have to rush to his rescue, nor do you really like doing it. You don't know how he really feels about it.

Knowing where he keeps his medicines and knowing when he has to take them doesn't make you two a couple. Not even living under the same roof makes you a couple - especially if you are not alone - nor does sharing the same room often and willingly.

In fact, even though someone often mistakes you for two young lovers, you don't really know what Sal thinks of you. As close as you feel him, you are not sure that he feels as close to you; on the other hand, he doesn't seem to share the same kind of intimacy with you that he shares with Larry or Ashley, or at least that's what you think.

Besides, you've never seen his face.

Yours is a purely selfish thought, and you are ashamed of it, but you cannot command feelings.

You know that the first time Larry saw his best friend's face was an accident, with Ash instead, she was the one who took the initiative. In neither case was Sal's will to make him show himself. Yet, despite this deep down, inside you, something stung excruciatingly.

When your friend had lifted his mask, Sal that time was not angry at the intrusiveness - as perhaps you would have done -, nor had he tried to escape later. It is logically normal that he now has less trouble showing himself around them. Sweet Sal, always so loving, so perfect.

You shouldn't feel offended. You know well that for Sal the prosthesis he wears is in effect his face, so it's not that he wants to hide from you, you are simply already seeing him.

Yet you know that under that face another is hidden, however much it may be disfigured. You can't pretend it isn't.

That slight annoyance you have repeatedly tried to ignore has slowly grown, but only now have you dared to call it by name. Because you like Sal. You really like him. And when you have understood this, when you have found the strength to admit it to yourself, everything is put in the right place; the joys, the jealousies you felt and feel… and also that desire to see him, to see beyond, to really see him.

But you'll never force on him for it. As simple as it would be to lift that mask to him with an excuse, you will never force him to show himself to you, even if you die with the regret of never having seen him. It's not the same, it's not the face you want to see, it's the trust you want him to give you. But you can't expect it, and you know it.

You could live with this obsession that has become so present in recent weeks that you can hardly forget it. Maybe it's just your mind that doesn't want to focus on your duties, and then it always wanders to him, aimlessly.

"What is Sal's face like?"

You asked Larry one day without realizing it. You didn't really know what you were doing with him, you just know that for a moment your brain was shut down, and when you woke up you whispered that question.

The astonished look of your friend had poured into you a flood of emotions so sudden that they almost made you cry for no reason: you felt guilty, selfish, reckless, stupid, meddlesome and terribly fragile.

You immediately lowered your gaze to protect yourself, muttering an "sorry, forget it" but never would have canceled that damn question. You thought Larry might misjudge you for that, but instead his big hand pulled you to him, ruffling your hair affectionately, saying nothing.

He seemed to have understood more than you hoped for, yet ...

You shake your head and your hand tightens on the glass of water. You knock on the door and softly call Sal's name.

"Yes?"

His answer comes a few seconds later and you feel safe in opening the door slowly.

It's not exactly what you imagined; he is sitting on the bed, his legs stretched out on the mattress and his back resting against the headboard. The guitar is stored in the case, but in his hands he holds a book with a dark cover.

His kind gaze meets you beyond that face that is always the same. It's amazing how expressive that guy can be under that stiff mask. That damn mask. That lovely mask.

"You didn't take them, did you?"

You ask softly as you lift the medicines to show them. Your voice is cracked against your will, and you're praying he didn't notice.

"Oh ..." his eyes snap to the clock hanging on the wall "thanks, I was completely forgetting about it."

His voice is soft, almost cheerful. He is not bothered by your gesture, or he is very good at hiding it.

You watch him get up to go to the bedside table where you put what he needed. You don't pay much attention to it, you just sit on the bed, picking up the book he was reading, making sure you keep your thumb between the pages, so as not to lose the mark he left.

You read the title and a few lines of the presentation absently. You're just trying to buy time with him, and you know it.

You hear it as he handles the pill box and plastic, and hear the rattle of the straps as they unfasten to release his mouth.

You don't watch it, you're used to the process and now, despite you insisting on staying there, you don't really want to watch it.

You don't understand much about the book, you just know it's about music.

"Do you like it?"

You ask, trying to give a semblance of normality.

"Enough ... actually I'm just at the beginning."

You just nod, not really being able to continue the conversation. Your head feels too full confused, but extremely empty at the same time, and you don't know why.

"Hey ... is everything okay?"

His voice makes you jump, as if he has stung you with a needle. Such a simple question, but you suddenly feel discovered, as if he has just proved he can read your mind. As if you were obliged to tell him the truth.

"Yup!"

You exclaim immediately, and without realizing your head jerks towards him, as if you wanted to assure him of the truthfulness of your words.

You don't notice it right away. You see only his blue eyes for a moment, he is looking at you with concern, more than he should.

At first you wonder if your attitude really is that troubling, but then you start to focus.

His hand trembles slightly around the glass of water, and out of the corner of your eye you can see his mask lying on his pillow.

He swallows the medicine by throwing his head back slightly, perhaps to take a break from your gaze, or to escape a little from the agitation, the fear he is having.

Sal, Sal's face. You are seeing him, free from his hiding place, while he drinks.

Surely he is disfigured, excruciatingly deformed. It's not just a few scratches, it's more, it's a real pain, yet you don't notice it.

Again, this is Sal. You're really seeing Sal's face, the face you've always loved, beyond the mask, like his mask.

He sits next to you, he's trying to act naturally, you see him, but you still see his fingers shaking against the cardboard as he puts the tablet away in the box. He did it for you.

Emotions explode in your chest and you don't bother holding them back. There is no time for any misunderstandings. You are free with him, you always have been, you don't know how you forgot this.

"Sal ..."

You call him softly, and he turns to you despite the hesitation. A light "tell me" sweet and helpful pronounced by the spoiled and shy lips.

Silently, you curl up against him, your arms glide smoothly around his chest, expressing your need to feel him close.

He welcomes you - he always does.

"Hey ..." is a faint call of him, as you hide against his neck to prevent your happiness from going out too violently.

"Thanks..." This is all you can say in your voice damp with emotion. Long last. You are like a child in front of the much desired Christmas present. You are so happy that you could carry the whole world on your shoulders.

"Thank you!" You repeat him with more conviction, and finally your eyes return to his sky-colored gaze. So beautiful, always so loving even in his placid surprise.

He looks at your wet eyes, so wet with affection for him. Your smile is so warm and true, and his lungs slowly empty of all the accumulated tension.

He didn't think anyone could look at him that way, not without his mask. He did not think that a look could be so full of love in front of his disfigured face, yet it seems that you are seeing an angel.

You look at him with your eyes shining with all the admiration you feel, and not because you can lie by saying that you are seeing a beautiful face, but because Sal is the most beautiful person you know.

"I-" His voice tries to say something, but it is cut off; this time it's up to him to be overwhelmed by emotion.

You approach slowly, and the tip of your nose touches his, practically non-existent, but you don't care. You cannot resist the desire to cuddle him, to touch him, to perceive him in every possible aspect of that intimacy that he has decided to give you.

At first he has a little jerk back, of surprise rather than fear, and soon after he is there again, looking for that touch. He is extremely uncertain, but he still responds to your unspoken requests, slowly letting his forehead rest on yours.

He exhales, as if he is releasing a great weight, but he immediately stiffens when you, without realizing it, are approaching his lips.

You wake up immediately from your numbness, before making a probable mistake, and try to get away, at least as long as his arms allow you.

"Please…"

That prayer from him is so feeble yet so meaningful. His gaze asks you to do it, to continue, because he wants it but he is still afraid of taking the initiative. He is putting the responsibility on you, and rightly so.

He is tense, you see it from his swallow and feel it from his tense muscles around you, but it's okay.

You approach again, slowly, gradually lowering your eyelids, a little by instinct and a little in the hope of putting him more at ease.

Kissing him is a special experience, and you like it - you wanted it so much -.

You are not intrusive, it is just a delicate touch, but it persists, leaving him time for him.

When he reciprocates, he does it slowly, unsure of how to proceed, probably troubled by the feelings he can give you or maybe just agitated by the situation. Yet, slowly, you feel it melt against you.

Slightly open your eyes to see that he too has closed them, and then you allow yourself to return to enjoy that moment, more peaceful and serene.

You huddle more, between yourselves, and let the desire flow through you, without going too far, simply enjoying the presence of each other, in your breaths that merge.

When you separate you do it only with your lips, but your gaze remains affectionate and aware.

In the end, that is nothing more than the confirmation of everything: of your knowing what time he should take his medicines and of his letting you know, of his knowing your favorite drink and which shower gel you always use, of cooking one by one. other, of looking so much like a couple for a long time already - and some of it is also the result of Larry's long tongue letting out a few too many words with his best friend.

You watch him as he puts his mask back on, and now you don't care anymore, because you know what's under it, and if that's his face then you've seen his soul.

Suddenly all your happiness is back. You are so happy that not even the bickering between Larry and Todd coming from the kitchen can upset you.

It must be something about the finished milk.

"I'm going to get it!"

You hum loud enough for the two to hear it, as you jump three steps at the same time, happily landing down the stairs.

Sal's laughter reaches you, and you turn to look at him. You like to see him happy, whatever the nature of that happiness.

"I come with you."

He tells you coming to you, reaching out his hand so that you can take it.

You're pretty sure you won't be able to stop smiling all night long.

*The image above is an old drawing of mine

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #oneshot #request #larry johnson #sally face sal #gaming #video games

[supercorpkid]

Mother’s Day with the Luthor-Danvers.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2100.

You haven’t been this anxious in a while. Mother’s Day is just around the corner, and you know this year you have to give them the best day ever. This past month you all have been through way too much.

It wasn’t just you and Kara that suffered with the red Kryptonite, Lena was also obviously dragged into the mess, and had to be strong for both of you. You’re aware of that. And you need to thank her, and also ease Kara’s mind.

You’re also old enough to stop with the whole ‘flowers and cards’ thing. It’s time to give them real presents, and having your own lab is actually helping a lot. So, after school you go to L Corp to finish their gifts.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were com-” Lena walks in the lab and you throw her present that was in your hand to the other side of the lab. She tilts her head at the action and raises her eyebrow.

“Oh, hi mom. You good?” You smile trying to ignore her inquisitive face.

“Do I want to know what you are hiding?” She asks and you shake your head.

“Hiding? That’s absurd! Why would I hide anything from you?” You give your best forced laugh. “You! Of all people. Nonsense.”

“Ok, weirdo.” She is obviously deciding to ignore you. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the lab, but don’t forget about your homework, ok?”

“Mom, please. Did I ever?” You think about the homework in your backpack. Damn it. You totally forgot about it.

“I guess not. So, what are you working on?” Lena looks at the tablet, and you put your hand in front of it before she can read it.

“Just something. It’s not ready.”

“Oh, and your lab partner can’t know about it?” She asks, putting a hand in her chest, pretending to be hurt.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask pushing the tablet aside so she can’t keep looking at it.

“You know I work here right?” She laughs and you roll your eyes. “Aly calls me whenever you show up.”

“Wow, gossip girl much?” Lena doesn’t understand the reference so she shrugs.

“Well, since you clearly don’t want me around…” She goes to the door. And you open your mouth to say something, but she stops you. “I’m kidding, I have a meeting. I’ll see you at home. Have fun with your secrets.”

“Ha ha.” As soon as she closes the door, you run to where you threw her present and pick it up. It didn’t break so you smile to yourself. Well, it passed the quality test.

You go back to Kara’s present. It’s a lot more complicated. You’ve been trying to learn Kryptonese from an old book. It’s so hard and the symbols are so difficult to write that you hope you don’t mess up and give her the wrong message.

On Sunday morning you’re the first one up. You go to the kitchen to start making Lena’s breakfast. You’re feeling anxious and very excited for this day.

“Kid! Oh Rao, you scared me!” Kara says from behind you, and you startle.

“I scared you? You almost killed me right now.” You say putting your hand on your chest and feeling your heart beating fast.

“Well, it’s seven in the morning and you’re up! I heard noises and I thought it was a monster or something.” She says coming to you and looking at what you’re doing. “Why are you cooking? And at seven on a Sunday?”

“It’s Mother’s Day.” You point out and Kara seems to remember all of sudden.

“Oh, in that case, don’t I deserve a hug?” She says with a smile and you hug her tightly. “Should I pretend I know nothing about breakfast?”

“Well, it’s, um… Actually, it’s for mom.” You give your best smile, but Kara looks disappointed.

“Oh right. Why would I want breakfast in bed? I mean, I don’t even like food.” She jokes, but you can see she’s still hurt.

“Ok, drama queen…” You were going to continue, but you hear Lena upstairs and you have to hurry before she leaves the bed. “She’s up!”

You grab the tray and run upstairs trying not to spill anything. Kara follows you closely.

“Good morning!” You smile at her and Lena yawns looking adorable. She sits down and you put the tray on her lap. “Happy Mother’s Day, mom!”

“Aw, my baby.” Lena pulls you in for a hug and kisses your temple. “This is so cute. Thank you.”

“Well, I have something else for you. Wait a second.” You use your super speed and a second later you’re in front of her again. “Here.” You give her a tiny box with a big bow on top and she smiles at you. “I made it for you. Y’know, I would have bought you something, but someone didn’t increase my allowance yet.”

“I bet this is a lot better than something bought.” Lena opens the box and sees another tiny box made out of lead. “But I would love some explanation.”

“Oh, right.” You pick the box from her hand and press a button making it grow bigger. “It’s a lead box. In case you want to keep something just for yourself.” You wink at her. “It grows to seven different sizes, and it gets so big you can even hide yourself in it, in case you need some ‘me time’.”

“What?” Kara yells from behind you, goes to you, and grabs the box from your hand. “How did you do that? And why?”

“What, do you think is easy living with two people who can see and hear everything you’re doing all the time?” You take the box from her hands and give it back to Lena. “You deserve privacy.”

“I… Don’t even know what to say.” Lena smiles and hugs you again. “This is amazing, babygirl. Thank you so much.” She kisses your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You say kissing her forehead in return.

“At least one of us got something.” Kara mumbles and you ignore her.

“Oh yeah. And you have me for the entire morning. We can do whatever you want.”

“Well, in that case, go get dressed. I know exactly where we’re going.” Lena says and you stand up immediately.

“And you, drama queen…” You turn to Kara, clearly upset with her arms crossed. She pouts looking cute, and you kiss her cheek. “You have me for the whole afternoon.”

“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “I almost thought you forgot you had two mothers.”

“Please.” You smile. “And the three of us are having dinner together later. Does that sound good?”

“Perfect.” Lena says eating her breakfast and you look at Kara.

“Do I get a gift too?” She asks and you only chuckle leaving the question unanswered.

You spend the entire morning with Lena and it’s incredible. You talk about what’s been going on at school, and she tells you about L Corp’s new inventions. She looks so happy; your heart eases a little. At least you got one of them excited like you wanted. You go back home with Lena, but you don’t even go inside.

“Momma, let’s go! We have a lot to do this afternoon.” You yell from the door, and you see Kara coming towards you. Lena hugs you before going inside.

“Hey, thank you for today. This was the best Mother’s Day ever!”

“For one of us.” Kara mumbles again and you laugh.

“Oh, dear Rao, can you stop being so dramatic.” You squish her face between your hands with a smile. “We’re flying to the Fortress, ok?”

You and Kara fly together there and she opens the door for you.

“Hey, kid, listen.” Kara holds your hand before you go inside and you stop to look at her. “It’s ok if you’re still kind of upset about the whole red kryptonite thing. You don’t have to push yourself to do anyth-”

“Momma, would you follow me, please?” You say holding her hand and she follows you to an empty room. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” She says and you press a button from a little machine you built. The whole room is flashed with different colors, and some 3D furniture shows up filling the empty space. “What? Little one, this…”

“It’s your room in Krypton.” You smile. “Well, at least I think it is. I only had a few images and-” She hugs you extremely tight. It's almost hard for you to breath.

“It’s amazing! It’s perfect.” She goes around the room looking at everything. She looks so excited and she keeps trying to touch everything and they keep disappearing when she does that. “How did you do this?”

“Momma, come on. It’s just virtual reality and…”

“No. It’s my home.” She comes back to you and kisses your forehead. “You did this. You’re amazing, little one.”

“Well, there’s one more thing.” You take a card from your pocket and she grabs it with a smile on her face. It doesn’t take long until she’s crying.

“You learnt Kryptonese?”

“Just a few words.”

“Well, you learnt the best ones.” She smiles between the tears and hugs you again. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I… I don’t know what else to say. When you only made breakfast for Lena, I thought maybe you still resented me, but then… This! And you learnt kryptonese to tell me I’m the best momma you could ever have. This is all too much. I don’t even have words to explain what I’m feeling.”

“You are the best momma in the universe. I’m sorry I can only give you a 3D version of your room, I wish I could give you your entire world back.”

“Oh, my love.” Kara cups your face and looks into your eyes. “I have my entire world right here.”

“I love you, momma.” You hold her and breath relieved. It’s all good. They both loved their day.

“I love you so, so much, little one. What did I do to deserve you?”

“Gave me your DNA?” You say making her laugh.

“Oh yeah, that.”

Kara goes back to look at the room. You both sit on the floor and she tells you all about Krypton. It’s not the first time she’s told you about it. You love hearing about your grandparents, and the unfortunate destiny of the planet, so you always ask her about it. And Kara loves sharing it with you. But every time she talks about it, you learn something new. This time, she tells you all about her room, and school. It’s great.

When you two fly back home is already time for dinner. You make a slight detour to grab the food you order, and you meet both of them back home. You ordered food from you guys favorite restaurant and they cheer excitedly when you land.

“Shall we eat outside?” You ask and they agree, taking everything you guys need to the table in the backyard. Kara turns on the fairy lights, and you smile. The night is perfect, and the day was special for all of you. They look so happy; your smile is glued to your face the entire time.

“See Lena, I got the best present!” Kara raises her brows with a cocky smile on her face. “She gave me my room, and learnt Kryptonese for me.”

“Oh yeah, I have my own cocoon, I can just go in there and ignore you now.” Lena bites her lips with a smile and you laugh.

“See what you’ve done kid?” Kara looks at you while holding Lena’s hand. “Now she can hide from us.”

“Yeah, I gave you a good hiding place too.” You say and she agrees with her head.

“You also gave us the best day in months.” Lena holds your hand from across the table and Kara does the same. “How can we repay you?”

“Hmmm…” You think about it for a second. “I really think you should increase my allowance.”

“Oh, not that again.” Lena laughs and Kara shakes her head.

“You’re a billionaire!” You laugh too and you spend the rest of the dinner trying to make your case. Kara joins your side and soon enough Lena agrees to it. It all started as a joke, but now that is happening you are definitely not going to refuse it.

Truth is, you’re just happy they are happy. And also, that this is your family. You’re so lucky you can’t even believe it.

Thanks @hermen0404 for the colab in this prompt :)

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #kara x lena #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #supercorp daughter #kara x reader #lena x reader #reader insert

[takonei]

Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 6, Investigation (Part 3)

Note of the author: jfc this investigation is long. But that’s to expect from chapter 6. Also: Updated the warning list. Please check before reading.

Also I apologize for the terrible formatting at a certain point in the chapter. Tumblr is a bitch. If it really bothers you, I suggest reading on AO3.

Chapter 6: My killing game, our killing game

...

Miu and Shuichi stared at each other.

"So... What is even left to investigate in this room?" Shuichi looked around.

The wall with Motherkuma was covered, Kokichi and Kirumi were taking care of the computer, and all that was left was, well, a kitchen. A simple trashcan, a fridge, and several cupboards.

Miu shrugged. "Well, I would hate myself if some clues were hidden in this section and we ignored them because we said 'who would hide major clues in the fridge?', if you know what I mean."

She started making her way there. Shuichi blinked, a bit confused by her statement. Who would even hide evidence in a fridge?!

But perhaps she was right. He could try to look up in those strange places.

He opened a cupboard to see packs of coffee and different types of food: Almonds, dry nuts, and other non-sugary snacks. Whoever owned this place clearly didn't have a sweet tooth.

"Why the hell are there hard drugs in the fridge??"

Shuichi immediately turned around to see Miu holding what looked like a blister of tablets. "What do you mean 'hard drugs'?!"

She looked just as confused. "I don't know, there are dozens of them in the fridge, that's the last thing I expected to see here."

He approached the fridge to see what she was talking about. And true to her words, dozens of blisters were placed there. He could only stare wide-eyed at the questionable sight.

Miu sighed. "I am seriously wondering what the hell is going on in the mastermind's head."

"For now let's just... Put it back where it was." Shuichi said.

Obtained truth bullet! Drugs in the fridge

He closed the fridge, then turned back to his friend.

Miu shook her head. "Anyway, let's just- let's just investigate somewhere else!"

It was clear she was asking herself as many questions as him.

Why would the mastermind need drugs…?

Shuichi eyed the trashcan on the side. It was ridiculous, but judging by what they found in the fridge, he wouldn't be surprised if something important was in there.

He lifted and shook the bin to empty it on the ground. And just as he thought, two items fell off. It was... a book and a USB key?

The book was heavy and old-looking, although that aspect looked like it was done on purpose. It didn't have anything written on the cover nor on the back, but instead, he could feel his eyes staring at the odd and mysterious decorations on the front. If anything, it looked like a dark magic grimoire.

He opened it and saw the title on the first page.

"'Necronomicon'...?"

Shuichi flipped through the pages. He felt his heart skip a beat when he saw a resurrection ritual being mentioned, but his hopes were cut short when he noticed that all the pages had tacky doodles of Monokuma everywhere. It was very hard to take this book seriously, and it probably didn't have any real value. No wonder it was thrown in a trashcan.

But where did it come from? That was another mystery...

He set the book down and took the USB key. Black and white with Monokuma's signature eye on it. But on a closer look, it didn't seem to be a USB key. Perhaps another storage system that didn't fit a normal computer.

Whatever these were for, they had a reason to be here. And he would have to find it.

Obtained truth bullet! Book and key

He took them both to show them to Miu. Perhaps she will know more about their uses than him.

"Hey... Did you find anything yet?" he asked.

The blonde woman closed the cupboard she was searching in. "Nope. What are these?" she pointed at the two objects.

He handed the book to her.

"I found them in the trashcan. It looks like Monokuma wrote the book, but... I don't really get it. What is it even for?"

Miu inspected the cover and back of the book. She opened it and looked at the inside cover.

"... I've seen this pattern before. I don't know where, but I've seen it."

Shuichi raised an eyebrow and his friend showed him.

However, it was a simple abstract mix of black and dark grey hues. There wasn't anything concrete, just monochrome splashes.

"Are you sure that's not just... a random pattern?"

"Hey! Don't doubt my-

She abruptly stopped herself. Shuichi felt guilty seeing her fierce expression deteriorate into sorrow. "Nevermind... Maybe I'm hallucinating as you say."

Miu gave back the book. "As for the key, I don't have a clue. Never seen anything like that before."

He glanced away. It wasn't his intention to make her doubt her abilities as an artist, but he did. But before he could apologize, she walked away to the next cupboard to inspect, clearly wanting this conversation to end.

… Perhaps he should do the same.

After putting the book and the key on the table next to the sink, the blue-eyed teen opened the next cupboard.

But just as he tried to reach inside, something heavy fell from the top of the shelf directly on his head. He heard the object hitting the ground as he rubbed the spot.

Of course, he would get karma for that with Kokichi a few meters away from him.

But what had hit him?

He looked on the ground to see a... hacking gun?

Shuichi inspected it. It was remarkably similar to the ones Ryoma had created, if not the same. But this one was painted differently and had started accumulating dust. It was black and white, and the symbol on the side was Monokuma's red eye instead of Ryoma's sigil.

With the dust, it looked like it was created before the actual hacking guns, but Ryoma hadn't built this one for sure.

Upon turning it on, his eyes widened as he looked at the number of shots left in the gun.

49.

It had been used once before, but... By whom?

Obtained truth bullet! Hacking gun

Shuichi set the gun on the table and sighed.

None of these ‘clues’ led to anything other than more questions. It was frustrating.

He turned to Miu, perhaps she would-

...

She was staring at a document with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Miu...?"

Her eyes shot up to his, and he instantly felt a chill down his spine.

She was filled with pure terror.

She swallowed and walked up to him, clenching the paper tightly.

"Shuichi, what the hell is this?!"

The blonde shoved the paper in his face.

He stumbled on his feet and took the paper, confused.

...

What...

What the hell was this?!

"Saihara... family contract...?"

Miu was silent as he was reading, the dread slowly settling on his face.

It was a contract between his family and an organization known as ‘Team Danganronpa’ to finance and advertise a killing game with himself as the ‘protagonist’.

"Did you or did you not sign that shit?!"

Her voice became louder, and his heart started racing in his chest.

"I-I don't remember any of this! I've never seen this paper in my life!!"

"Then whose signature is at the bottom?!"

...

He froze.

His gaze drifted right next to the scarlet red stamp that had the form of Monokuma's eye, on the three signatures written in dark blue ink.

Respectively his father, his mother... and��himself.

He felt his throat tighten at the sight of his own handwriting.

Shuichi Saihara.

His hands were trembling as he kept staring at the paper.

Shuichi Saihara.

It was the truth, wasn't it?

His family was responsible for the killing game.

He was responsible for the killing game.

…

Everything became white noise. He could feel his senses leaving him.

All he could see was his own handwriting. Blue stains from a past he could not remember, taunting him endlessly. All he could hear were muffled voices clashing together, drowned in a constant dissonant ringing that didn’t want to stop. All he could feel between his fingers was the paper stained with his own mistakes, now wet with the warm, fat tears he didn't even feel falling.

...

What...

What had he done?

What kind of monster was he?!

The noise became louder and louder, until...

Shuichi felt the paper being taken from his hands, and everything instantly became clearer in his mind.

He raised his head to look at Kokichi and Kirumi, who had joined them supposedly because of the ruckus. The latter was reading the paper with an unreadable expression.

Her intense green eyes suddenly met his. The cold wave was another hit to the chest.

There was a long silence in the room.

"This is your signature, isn't it?"

Unable to mutter a word, he closed his eyes, breaking the painful eye contact. "... It is."

For some reason, he couldn't feel her judgmental gaze on him. What was she thinking about?

They had all the reasons to hate him, and he deserved it. He agreed to make them suffer, to let them die and decay miserably, away from their loved ones.

Rantaro's words kept playing in his head.

He may not remember it, but the evidence was here. He did sign this. He agreed to let them rot.

And he doesn't even remember it.

"I'm... I'm sorry I... I don’t…"

The three pairs of eyes were surely locked on him, but the words never came out of their mouths.

...

"Kirumi... What do you think of all of this?"

He couldn't bear looking at her.

"... Something about this contract doesn’t sit right with me."

Shuichi felt his heart skip a bit.

"I do not know what, though.” She brushed the paper with her fingers.

“I do not think this is the original but rather a copy. However, correct me if I’m wrong, Miu…” Kirumi gave the paper to the other girl. “… But the writing does give me the impression that this was not edited in any way.”

“I don't have any reason to think that this contract was faked, but... It's too easy."

He heard Kokichi shifting his feet to turn to her. "What do you mean?"

"Miu, you find this in a cupboard of all places." she said. "Not a safe, not in a drawer, but a cupboard anyone could open, in the middle of glasses and plates. Why would a contract that important be here, and not in a secured place, or at least a real drawer?"

Shuichi lifted his head.

"From what I remember, I have spent countless hours in mansions either stealing important documents, taking care of evidence that could expose me as the culprit, and sometimes placing fake evidence to incriminate another maid or worker."

"And never have I ever found a document that important in a cupboard nor have I ever placed fake evidence here."

Miu seemed to ponder for a moment. "And... What do you think that means?"

She sighed. "To me, there are no logical explanations. The mastermind is just making a fool out of us."

The blonde's eyes widened. "You're the one who said this thing couldn't have been faked! It has to come from somewhere!"

"It's… exactly like the Sanzu garden."

The three turned to Kokichi.

"Kiyo... He had made his plan because the mastermind knew Tsumugi's attitude was suspicious to him! They manipulated the academy for days to separate us! Maybe they're doing the same here to throw us off!"

Shuichi's eyes widened. "You... You think so? But-

"You might be right. That's the most plausible theory in my eyes." Kirumi interrupted him.

"With the proof that our memories could have been altered, I decided to only trust the memories we made in this killing game, and nothing else."

"And perhaps you guys should do too."

"So you think... Shuichi doesn't have anything to do with the creation of the killing game?" Miu hesitantly asked.

...

Silence.

"Maybe, maybe not. Because our memories may have been altered doesn't ultimately prove his innocence. This contract looks real, after all." she said.

"But Kokichi is right. Letting our emotions get the best of us would be our greatest mistake, and that's exactly what the mastermind wants right now."

His other two friends nodded in understanding.

... But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to feel relieved by her words.

After all, he might be more of a monster than he remembers.

And that terrified him.

Obtained truth bullet! Saihara family contract

Shuichi still had trouble looking at any of his friends.

"Should we... go back to the computer?" Kokichi broke the silence.

"Of course."

Miu, Kokichi, and Kirumi started walking towards the engine. But Shuichi still had a word to say.

"Kirumi..." he muttered.

She stopped in her tracks.

"Why did you defend me?"

The young woman said nothing, then side-eyed him.

“First of all, learn when it is appropriate to start conflicts between us.”

He winced at the remark.

"I don't know what you did before we all met. I don't know why you supposedly agreed to finance this killing game.”

“You could even be faking your emotions and try to create unnecessary conflicts to make sure we don’t find enough hints to end this killing game for all I know."

"You may have signed this contract, but I could be worse than you in every way imaginable, rotten to the core and deserving hell more than anyone else on this wretched planet. I remember being a mercenary, I might as well be the devil."

"To blame you for everything that happened to me, knowing there is a possibility that I am a monster viler and more vicious than you could ever be... would make me a hypocrite."

Shuichi pondered to himself, eyes low.

"Kirumi! You coming?" Miu's voice took them out of their thoughts.

"I'm here."

The sound of her heels resonated in his ears. He followed them, and his eyes landed on the computer screen.

The long-haired girl started typing again. "I don't know what I can do at this point. As I said, I'm not an expert hack-

Kirumi was interrupted by a sudden explosion that blew up the door that was right next to them, scattering debris and... burned books?

He had forgotten about the door leading to the library. And standing there, a cannon pointed at the room, was Monoshi.

"SECRET-ENTRANCE-UNLOCKED: LIBRARY. NO-SECRET-ENTRANCES-REMAINING."

The modified bear left as suddenly as he came, leaving a gaping hole replacing the sealed door between the two rooms.

"Guys! Look!"

Shuichi suddenly turned to Miu.

"We finally got access to the computer!"

Kirumi raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "How...? I didn't even enter anything."

Shuichi hummed. "Maybe... Karma did the job?"

"Whatever happened, it worked. We shouldn't waste time wondering about that right now." Miu scanned the screen with her eyes.

There were several applications and files, it was hard to choose what to click first.

"Look, there's a file called 'flashback light list', maybe we should start with that?" Shuichi suggested.

Miu clicked on the file.

Sixteen files, all named with... Two letters.

"Okay... What are we choosing first?" the blue-eyed teen asked.

"The first, duh."

The blonde clicked on the file named "AY".

Anterior_AY.cmr Chapter_2_AY.cmr Chapter_3_AY.cmr Chapter_4_AY.cmr Chapter_5_AY.cmr Character_AY.ccr Motive_05_AY.ccr Motive_05_END_AY.cmr Talent_AY.cpr

Miu frowned. "... I have several questions."

"The ‘character’ file matches what we saw in the flashback lights guide." Kirumi noted.

"But what about the 'chapter' ones?" Shuichi asked.

Kokichi blinked. "I don't even know what I'm looking at."

He couldn’t deny things were very confusing, whether they knew what was in the guide or not.

"Maybe we should check the others...?" the other boy suggested.

Miu went back and clicked on the second file: "GG". It was the exact same list, with the 'AY' replaced by 'GG' except...

The 'Motive_05' files were missing.

"Could you go back for a second, Miu?" Kirumi frowned.

The girl did as told.

The other stared at the screen for a moment. "... Those are our initials. Each of those files is about us."

Shuichi's eyes widened. But just as she said, he noticed the file named 'SS'. And indeed, the list was about them.

AY, GG, HY, KA, KM, KT, KO, KS, MH, MI, RA, RH, SS, TC, TI and TS.

Miu immediately clicked on her file. It had all the same files as the others, without the 'Motive_05' ones.

"What the hell...?" she muttered.

They checked each of the files to spot the differences.

Angie had the 'Motive_05_AY.ccr' and the 'Motive_05_END_AY.cmr' files.

Ryoma had 'Motive_05_RH.ccr' and 'Motive_05_END_HR.cmr'.

Tsumugi had 'Motive_05_TS.cmr' and 'Motive_05_END_TS.cmr'.

However...

Kokichi was missing the 'Talent' file.

Shuichi was missing the 'Character' file.

Kirumi was missing the 'Anterior' file.

And Tatsuya was missing those exact three files.

Shuichi swallowed. Should he be happy that he didn't have a 'character' file? Should he be mad? Worried?

He didn't know.

All those files were the same for everyone, except the initials at the end of each of them, unique to each participant.

But Kirumi, Kokichi and Tatsuya... Why were they missing files?

Especially Tatsuya. He would understand if he was a robot like they all thought until tonight, but Tatsuya was a human just like them before being transferred into K1-B0.

...

When were those flashback lights even created?

Obtained truth bullet! Flashback light list

Miu turned to the others- those with the missing files.

"I don't get it... I know I should be mad that I have those flashback light files but what about you guys? Why are you missing some of those files?"

Shuichi nervously looked away. "I wish I knew..."

Kokichi was still staring at the screen. "I think we skipped a file..."

Miu froze. "I-I don't know what you're talking about?"

She was clearly lying.

Shuichi scanned the screen, until...

"... It's Rantaro's file, isn't it?"

Her shoulders dropped, her hands clenching into fists.

"I... I don't know what it's gonna be and I'm scared."

Kirumi crossed her arms. "Unfortunately, he could be like us, missing a file. We have to know if there is a difference.”

She swallowed and clicked.

And indeed, his file was different. But not in the way they expected.

Anterior_RA.cmr Chapter_2_RA.cmr Chapter_3_RA.cmr Chapter_4_RA.cmr Chapter_5_RA.cmr Character_RA.ccr EmergencyTherapyRantaro.ccr Talent_RA.cpr

Shuichi's eyes widened.

What the hell was this new file?!

Miu jumped from her seat. "Emergency therapy...?"

She didn't think and immediately clicked on the odd file to open it. But...

... An error message popped up, indicating that the file was corrupted and thus impossible to recover.

They stared at it, defeated. They didn't even do anything, but it still felt like they failed at keeping one person safe.

Seeing a file named 'Emergency Therapy' exclusively for Rantaro corrupted and beyond repair gave him a sick feeling in his stomach.

If there was one file that they had needed, it was this one. And yet, it was completely ruined.

This message reeked irony, and Shuichi hated it.

Obtained truth bullet! Corrupted file

Miu slammed her hands on the table. "Why?! This isn't fucking fair! Why is this file even here if it's just to stand there and taunt us?!"

...

No response.

Indeed, why did this file even exist? Why would the mastermind even create this?

The more they searched through this room, the less he understood their intentions. It was getting harder and harder to look at the hints and clues that were ‘offered’ to them.

But was there really something to understand?

The mastermind was a monster. Someone who would make them suffer for their own amusement no matter what. But...

'The 'mastermind' is only a pawn in the greater scheme that this killing game is.'

If they were merely a pawn, then how disgusting were the people above them...?

... This was terrifying to think about.

Kirumi leaned forward and closed the error window. At least they wouldn't have to look at it anymore.

The girl next to her stared at the file's name. She seemed to ponder to herself.

"Hey, is it me or..." she trailed off. "... Nevermind."

She closed the tab. No one wanted to see those files anymore- this grotesque mockery of their despair.

Shuichi couldn't find the courage to look at the screen anymore.

Kokichi broke the silence. "Was this icon here before?"

He pointed at a logo that looked like Monokuma's eye. Titled 'FLIBD - SRD subjects'.

Kirumi frowned. "No... It definitely wasn't there."

Miu got the message and clicked on it.

What appeared before them looked like an information sheet. A picture of a young girl their age, and some data about her.

She had incredibly beautiful traits, the bright blue eyes of a doll, and voluminous blond hair attached in two pigtails. She wore a thin black necklace that contrasted a lot with her fair skin.

But something caught his attention. His heart skipped a beat when his eyes landed on the hairpins.

Two Monokuma heads, one fully white on the left and one fully black on the right.

"W-Who the hell is she?!"

"She's wearing Monokuma like a fucking trophy. Whoever she is, I already don't trust her." Miu hissed.

Only an ally of Monokuma would wear such a gross accessory.

"Her name is Junko Enoshima, according to the info on the profile." Kirumi noted.

Junko Enoshima...

He has never heard this name before in his life.

At least, from what he remembers.

Was she part of those behind the killing game as a whole?

Obtained truth bullet! Junko Enoshima

They decided to look into the written details about her.

Junko Enoshima - #01-006 Ultimate analytical prowess - Type primary: O Type secondary: M Intensity: A- High Beginning: / Conflict status: Tame Keyword: Despair Status: Dead - 6M - 1/26

"Wait, she's dead?" Miu raised an eyebrow.

"Apparently so." Kirumi said. "Although I do not know what the '6M' means."

Shuichi neither. But what did those 'types' even mean? And all the other info given here?

"Wait, look at the keyword!" Kokichi said. "Isn't Monokuma always babbling about despair?"

"So you do think she has some kind of relationship with Monokuma, right?" Shuichi asked.

"She has Monokuma hairpins, so there's no questioning that." Miu turned to her friends. "She does give me the impression that she’s like… The creator or something."

The creator of Monokuma...?

"But she's dead! Does that mean the mastermind was her, but she was actually dead all along?" Shuichi exclaimed.

"I don't think the mastermind is dead. Someone has to take care of Monokuma and the killing game somehow." Kirumi pondered. "Though I don't deny she must have a connection with him."

Shuichi stared at the screen. "Wait, there's a '1/26' at the bottom of the screen... Are there other people like her?"

Miu span around to face the screen. "That's what we'll find out."

She tapped the right arrow on the keyboard, and another information sheet appeared. But the person on the screen looked... Completely unrelated.

It was a boy this time. His face gave Shuichi chills. He looked like he was a ghost. Messy hair white as snow with weak scarlet ends, and skin almost as pale as a corpse. His grey eyes looked empty, devoid of life. He seemed to be wearing a green hoodie, but he could only guess. However...

... He did not wear a single accessory related to Monokuma.

Nagito Komaeda - #02-028 Ultimate lucky student - Type primary: O Type secondary: / Intensity: A- High Beginning: / Conflict status: Tame Keyword: Hope Status: Dead - 5V/S – Terminated - 2/26

"Dead too?!" Miu yelled. "Are all of these people dead?!"

"This one indicates 'terminated'. That was not on the first one." Kirumi pointed out.

Whatever that meant, it was not a good sign.

"But look... The keyword..." Kokichi said.

Hope.

The exact opposite of Junko Enoshima.

"Do they or do they not work for Monokuma?" Miu raised an eyebrow. "It's confusing as hell."

"I don't think we were right when we assumed this was a list of those who worked for the game." Kirumi explained. "This is something else. The icon said 'subjects' with two acronyms. But if we don't know what the acronyms mean, we are not going to get far."

Subjects...?

It sounded like an experiment. This was... worrying, to say the least.

"So what? Do we look at the other info sheets to see what is actually going on?" Miu suggested.

"We can only try."

And so, they did. Each of those info sheets contained the same kind of info, although the parameters changed.

There didn't seem to be a pattern in the talents- they were at random, from art, to knowledge, and sometimes even murder related. Ultimate vocalist, assassin, poet, anthropologist, psychiatrist… How many ultimate students even existed in the world?

The ‘types’ changed letters. Some had both primary and secondary filled, some had only the primary.

The intensity part was generally either low or moderate. Sometimes it was marked as 'high', but only on rare occasions. The letter 'A' also seemed to have turned to an 'N' around the 5th person.

But he also noticed that for some, unlike the two first, the 'beginning' part was filled. Sometimes it was a person's death, a day, a random event, and sometimes... A trial? They did wonder if other ultimates had been in a killing game just like them.

The fact that they were probably not the first victims made Shuichi want to puke.

They then noted that the 'beginning' part was only filled for those with the letter N in the ‘intensity’ part.

The 'conflict status' part was completely random, with no apparent pattern. This was probably the part he understood the less.

On the keyword part was often noted notions or concepts, but he had seen a name or two on these info sheets.

As the status...

All dead.

Not a single one was noted 'alive'. One or two had the 'terminated' note, but all of them were dead, for some reason or another.

It was painful to look at, even though none of them recognized any of the people in the pictures, or even the names.

On the 25th info sheet, Miu clicked on the keyboard to see the last person, and...

It was like time had stopped.

They recognized this face all too well.

Messy green hair, an intense emerald gaze powerful enough to petrify someone, and young, slightly feminine traits on a male teenager they had all known as...

"R-Rantaro...?" Miu muttered, her voice shaking.

This was him. There was no doubt about it. But... Why...?

Rantaro Amami - #53-844 Ultimate medic - Type primary: T Type secondary: P Intensity: N- High Beginning: Tsumugi Shirogane's death ~ Ch4 trial ~ Night 16 Conflict status: Very aggressive Keyword: Save Status: Dead - 5E - 26/26

"W-What does Rantaro have to do with these people?!" Kokichi exclaimed with his feeble voice.

Kirumi approached the screen and narrowed her eyes at the picture that was in front of them. "As much as I hate to say this, we will probably get a better understanding of this list with him there."

Unfortunately, she was right.

However, something immediately bugged him. "Hey, is it me or are those '53' everywhere? This is the third time in a row I've seen the number written.”

Kokichi turned to him. "Wasn't it also written on Keebo's plans?"

Shuichi's eyes widened. "It was! I don't get what it means, though."

"Can we talk about like, everything else?" Miu frowned with a mix of both confusion and annoyance.

Perhaps it was nervousness that made him focus on the less important details. Whatever the reason, he hated it. The rest of the information was much more primordial to their investigation and understanding of the situation, after all.

"'Tsumugi's death’, ‘Ch4 trial’, and a certain night…“ Shuichi muttered to himself, low enough so he wouldn’t be heard by anyone.

He did have an idea of what had happened during that time, but… He didn’t have the courage to say it out loud.

Kirumi was reading the info sheet. She seemed to be focused on trying to get a clue out of this.

“Did you… figure out anything?”

She only narrowed her eyes. “I do have a theory, but it lacks evidence, so I suggest you take what I say with a grain of salt.”

“I do believe this has something to do with his mental state.”

Bingo.

“What do you mean?” Miu raised an eyebrow. “I mean… We all figured out something wasn’t right, but… What does this have to do with that?” she gestured to the info sheet.

Kirumi seemed to be choosing her words, then sighed.

“It’s after Tsumugi’s death that he… started acting strange, to put it lightly. And as much as I tried to talk to him about it during the last few days, it was useless.”

Shuichi felt his heart sting as those moments started invading his mind again. The fourth trial was a nightmare. Four hours of figuring out who had orchestrated Tsumugi’s execution, and a quarter of it was spent deciding if it was Rantaro’s most trusted friend or the beloved therapist who was the culprit.

And the fifth trial… He didn’t even want to think about it.

“Hold on, you knew he was in this state and you didn’t say anything?” Miu frowned.

… He didn’t like where this was going.

“Look, some things happened that you probably don’t want to know. This group was already fragile to begin with. To tell you the truth would have been like smashing an already collapsing vase with a baseball bat.”

“And you just left him alone thinking telling us would have made things worse than they already were?!” she yelled.

“I severely fucked up, I know that already!! Don’t you think I realized by now?!” Kirumi’s voice was growing louder, filled with rage.

Her eyes, bright green, and a glare as powerful as…

Shuichi instinctively took a step back.

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” the other girl stood up. “What did you have to gain by doing your little thing alone on your side?!”

“Miu-“ he approached her.

“Shut it! It’s between me and her!”

“No! I’m just as much at fault for this if not more!”

She stopped. Everyone turned to him.

Oh no.

“You… What?”

He turned away. “I… I knew about this as much as Kirumi. I’m the one who told her in the first place. I tried to investigate with her but… We were never successful. He always turned us away.”

Kirumi looked at him, silently.

“And what’s your excuse? Why did you decide to hide all of this from m- from us?”

He could tell Miu was mad. But her anger was not his biggest concern.

Why was this moment still intact in his mind, replaying itself over and over again?

The cold blade against his throat, steady and ready to slice through it like a vulgar piece of meat.

A gaze… His gaze…

“I-I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Please.”

He felt his voice cracking at the last word. He probably looked miserable, which was something that happened way too often for his liking.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. He couldn’t blame Miu for wanting to know, but that was not something he wanted to even think about right now.

Kirumi sighed. “Look, Miu. I know we messed up. You have every right to be mad. But this-“ she vaguely gestured at the group. “-is exactly what I wanted to avoid at a time like this. If you want, you can take a small break while we continue to investigate.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. It’s just��� a lot to take in. All of this.”

While he knew she could not even begin to understand how he felt back there, to learn that two of your friends hid such important things about the person you cared about the most…

Miu rubbed her eyes. “I’m fine. Let’s just- let’s just keep going. Sorry for the outburst.”

Kirumi put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen. I might have been too harsh and I’m sorry. When I say take a break, I mean it.”

She lowered her gaze. “… Alright, I’ll- I’ll be right back.”

Miu walked to the back of the room. She needed time for herself, and Shuichi respected that.

Kokichi glanced at them both. He looked like he wanted to ask about what had happened but didn’t dare to.

“It’s… It’s complicated.” Shuichi muttered.

“I wasn’t going to ask… I’m just wondering if you at least talked about it properly to someone.” He replied. “When I talked to Miu, I felt a bit more… refreshed, I don’t know how to explain it.”

Shuichi weakly smiled. “Thanks. I talked a bit to Kirumi about this already, but it- it’s still not something I want to share. At least not now.”

The white-haired boy turned to the picture of Rantaro. “Save…”

An obsession he developed, to the point of ending his own life in some twisted plan.

“I don’t think I will ever understand him…” the boy muttered.

Shuichi swallowed. “Maybe we could have been true friends… If only we met differently, then things would have been better.”

Kirumi had her eyes on him. “… That’s nothing but a distant dream, now.”

She looked at Miu, then back at the computer, deciding to close the haunting file.

They would have to figure out what it all meant, but right now they were drained. Whenever Rantaro was mentioned, things did not end up well.

Obtained truth bullet! Subject list

Shuichi glanced at the ground for a moment. He was the one to start the meaningless investigation, despite himself.

He thought it had been completely useless in the end, since Rantaro ended up achieving his wretched goals, but perhaps... Not all of it was for nothing. There was still more to this, and this list was the proof.

Miu came back to them. “Alright, we done with this file?”

It was obvious she was still shaken.

Kokichi hummed. “We… figured we could go onto something else.”

She went back to the chair and thought for a moment. "… What are we checking next?"

Shuichi approached her to look at what could be useful, pushing his thoughts to the back of his head. "Hey, doesn't this look like a chat device?" he pointed at an icon. "Maybe the mastermind was talking to an ally, or someone they're working with."

The girl cracked her fingers. "Let's see what this bitch was up to."

After clicking the icon, one single conversation appeared on the screen.

"We might need to read all of this, maybe try to scroll up to see where it starts?" Shuichi suggested.

And so she did. Unfortunately, they didn't seem very talkative, and they did not know when those conversations really happened.

But now, they could read actual conversations from the mastermind and their accomplices, and that was more than enough.

Or superiors, if Rantaro was right.

=====

                                                     I request an alternate motive. This is urgent. <

> Which one?

                                                                                                        Number 05. <

> Understood. Please give me the details in a voice call.

                                      (Voice call lasted 19 min 47 sec)

=====

"Alternate motive...?" Kokichi tilted his head. "We were supposed to have another motive at some point?"

Shuichi slammed his hands on the table. "Wait! Motive 05! It's the flashback lights file!"

"The flashback lights for Ryoma, Angie, and Tsumugi only." Kirumi noted.

Miu frowned. "Wait, if this is about the despair disease, why didn’t Kokichi have a file? You had the disease, right?"

He stiffened. "Y-yes? I had the disease!!"

And yet... Nothing was proving it. Neither the files, nor the attitude back then.

"That's... odd, don't you think?" Shuichi raised an eyebrow. "Kokichi did not change attitude and did not have his memories of that period erased..."

The young boy looked panicked, to say the least. "I don't know! But I... I had the disease, Monokuma said it and I know I had it..." he trailed off.

The three looked at each other. After what had just happened with the contract and the file, preying on it would only make things worse.

Instead, Rantaro's words ringed in his head.

'No existing disease infects people that differently.'

And he was right. This was no disease, but instead flashback lights. Which made a lot more sense than whatever explanation the bears came up with.

... And with how much Angie changed because of 'the disease', he started wondering what the flashback lights were truly capable of.

Pure terror, and nothing else. he thought to himself.

Miu scrolled down to look at the next conversation.

=====

The next motive will be an alternate one as well. This is an important demand.<

> I expected that. Which one?

                                                                                                        Number 13. <

> Are you sure? This is not an easy motive to handle.

                                      Yes. I believe it is the best way to continue the game. <

> Understood. Shall we make a voice call for the details?

                                                                                                                    Yes. <

                                    (Voice call lasted 1h 49 min 04 sec)

=====

"Wait, the Sanzu garden was not planned from the start either?" Shuichi raised an eyebrow.

"Forget about that, look at the voice call!" Miu exclaimed. "Two hours of babbling about how to make us suffer?!"

"No, Shuichi is right." Kirumi frowned. "The motive was planned after the despair disease to an extent. This means that the mastermind somehow managed to put all of that into place in a few days at most."

He didn't think about that. "That's... how?!"

"Shuichi, I think at this point we should stop asking 'how is this possible' and more 'what is going on’. This entire bullshit sounds like science fiction, but here we are." Miu sighed.

And she was right, unfortunately. He didn't expect science to be able to transfer a human soul into a robotic body nor to be able to mess with memories in such a way, but he had to accept that this was real.

"Still... They planned and prepared all of this way too quickly..." Kokichi muttered.

If the mastermind worked alone, that would have been impossible. But as Rantaro said, they don't know how many people are behind the scenes.

It was terrifying.

They kept scrolling to see what happened after that.

=====

> This trial was a wonderful success. You have made an excellent job handling this motive.

> Rare are those who can make it work correctly.

                                                                                                         Thank you. <

> However, we will once again need you to keep an eye on someone for tonight. You might already know who I'm talking about.

                                                                                 Yes, I do. And understood. <

=====

"Wonderful success my ass." Miu hissed. "As long as we get hurt, they’re happy. Fucking bastards."

"I think we should talk about the 'Rare are those who can make it work correctly.'" Kirumi noted. "Did other people have to do this in the past?"

That was more of a rhetorical question. This conversation was just blatant proof that...

... This was not the first killing game. And enough of them had the Sanzu garden as a motive for this to be said. How many had to be trapped in those chambers, or were hurt by the countless traps placed to terrorize them?

It was sickening.

"Um... Why are they talking about 'keeping an eye on someone' though?" Kokichi asked. "And 'once again'? Did the mastermind already have to do that?"

"It does seem normal that they are tasked to keep an eye on us, but that message seems to hold more importance." Kirumi said.

But for what, though...? What is so important that the mastermind needed to be reminded to do that?

Whatever the reason, he already hated it.

He glanced at the screen and saw that Miu had scrolled down a bit.

=====

                                                                                We need to talk. Right now. <

> What is it about?

                                                                                         Don't feign ignorance. <

> We are already working on this. You do not need to intervene.

                                                                                                        Understood. <

=====

"What the hell?" Miu raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

It was odd to see the mastermind be mad at whoever their colleague was. Whatever they did must not have pleased them.

But was it a good or a bad sign?

"It must have happened after the fourth trial, but not on the same day as the other conversation." Kirumi pondered. "Although I doubt this has anything to do with the fifth trial."

He nodded. Judging by how they talked, the chances were low.

But unfortunately, there wasn't much they could deduce from this conversation.

Miu scrolled down and they realized this would be the last conversation the mastermind and their accomplice had.

======

> This entire trial was a full-blown disaster. How did you mess up that badly?

> Do you realize we might have executed Mr. Amami for nothing? We don't even know if he was indeed guilty.

                             I didn't ask for him to be executed, as far as I know. You did. <

 Also, don't act like you didn't want him to die. I do have a part of responsibility <                                                 in this, but do not put 100% of the blame on me.

       There are things and people I simply cannot control, you should know that.<

> You do know executing someone without concrete proof of the crime is not something we can do out of the blue.

> Someone like you shouldn't be in this position. You knew him better than everyone else and there is no excuse for your failure.

  Once again, you are also to blame. I warned you about him. I specifically told <         you he was a force to be reckoned with, someone to never underestimate. 

                                                       Why do you think I chose him of all people? <

> You could have made the job easier for yourself and for us, and you didn't.

     What is done is done. This game will come to an end very soon, and I have <                                                 no choice but to take another route for the finale.

> You know we cannot afford to end the killing game like this.

         It is too late for that. We underestimated him, and we must pay the price. <

 I'll let you handle the preparations. You might need to hurry up, though. I have <                                              a feeling he prepared more than we first expected.

> Understood.

======

The four of them stared at the screen with wide eyes.

Shuichi had his eyes locked on one single sentence.

'I didn't ask for him to be executed.'

Rantaro...

"Rantaro was supposed to live?!" he yelled.

"Hold the fuck up! If the mastermind didn't want him dead, then why was he executed?!" Miu turned back, panicked.

Shuichi paused, then glanced at her. "W-

"He was right."

He suddenly turned to Kirumi.

"Rantaro mentioned Monokuma possibly getting new orders during the trial, when he suddenly turned against him and gave us a very explicit reason to vote for him."

"So that wasn't the mastermind?!" Kokichi exclaimed.

Then... The mastermind was actually not in total control of the trial...?

What on earth had happened back there?!

"So they fucked up, the mastermind wanted to let him go but whoever the fuck was actually behind the scenes wanted him dead?!"

This was almost exactly what Rantaro had predicted.

His foresight was one of the greatest qualities he had, to their dismay.

But...

"Who are we even calling the mastermind if they don't even have full power over the game?!"

"A pawn." Kirumi bluntly said. "The 'mastermind' has a certain amount of power, but they’re at the lowest level of the hierarchy."

He swallowed. "Still... The fact that the one we considered our greatest enemy for so long might be nothing next to whoever was behind them..."

A graveyard silence settled among them.

He couldn't even bring himself to fear the mastermind anymore.

Rantaro had told them. He had told them that there were more people behind this horror, but... He never imagined anything like that.

"But... Look at this..." Kokichi pointed at the screen. "The other person says they can't kill us out of the blue... Are they still bound by the rules? I thought the mastermind was doing this game for them?"

"Then there must be more layers to this." Kirumi crossed her arms. She raised a finger, pointing at nothing in particular, then raised it up as she talked. "The 'mastermind' is at the bottom, then it's the second layer- this person, whatever their role is, and finally someone else at the top, who has given them the instructions and is only watching."

"That's my understanding of the situation."

Shuichi pondered. This looked like a decent explanation.

But still, whoever is at the top...

... What kind of power did they even possess for multiple killing games to be organized?

Miu stared at the screen, still reading the messages. "The mastermind knows Rantaro more than anyone else... What does that mean? Do they know us as well?"

"That does seem logical. They have 'chosen’ Rantaro, whatever that means, so they probably ‘chose’ us as well. Though I don't know how they could know us enough to the point of creating the Sanzu Garden." Kirumi said.

"That doesn't surprise me at this point, to be honest. What I'm worried about is the last message the mastermind sent. They seemed to know Rantaro had prepared something, so Monoshi must have not been that much of a surprise for them."

If they knew something was going to happen, then... Why didn't they do anything? Was it because the game was already supposed to end?

Was the game successfully ended by Rantaro, or was it already supposed to end, making his sacrifice utterly useless?

"Does that mean they knew we were going to end up in this room?" Kokichi asked.

That... was actually a good question. They didn't seem to have tried to hide major clues like the flashback light guide and the computer, but at the same time, the contract with his family was here. And they were actually able to go past the computer security.

"Maybe... I wouldn't be surprised if they did, but here we are, looking at their conversation with their boss, so who knows." Miu sighed.

Obtained truth bullet! Conversation with the mastermind

The group stopped talking for a moment. They needed to process this. Not just this part of the conversation, but the rest of the investigation. From Tatsuya Idabashi and his corpse, Keebo, the contract with his own family, the subject list to this...

What did he get himself into?!

Kirumi let her shoulders drop. "We should go back to investigating the academy while we still can. I think we’ve seen enough from this computer."

Shuichi turned to her. "Wait, there might still be info on this…"

As much as he hated it, he knew he was right. This computer was a gold mine, despite all the nuggets being coated in poison.

Miu pondered. "But she's right on one thing. We’ve all been on this computer for a while instead of the usual two-by-two. We should get back to that strategy."

Just as she finished her sentence, the sound of another explosion from the outside was heard.

"I... I think I'll stay here…" Shuichi nervously said.

"Fine. I'll go outside." Kirumi took a step back. "I'll try to investigate alone."

"I might also need some time to process all of this bullshit or I think I'll have an aneurysm." She muttered to herself, although Shuichi did hear her.

The sound of her heels faded away as she passed through the destroyed entrance in the library.

Miu crossed her arms, gaze to the ground. "I'll go to the surface too. Can I leave you two with the computer?" she asked.

"C-Count on us."

Shuichi muttered this unconsciously, but he didn't even know if he was ready to see more.

Miu gave him a weak smile and walked away, leaving him with Kokichi.

Once she was out of sight, Shuichi sighed, putting his face in his hands. “What are we even doing…?”

Kokichi put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

It was impossible to keep calm.

“I’m sorry, I- I just don’t know what to think anymore…” he mumbled.

The other boy let his hand drop. “It’s fine… I know this is dumb coming from me, but… Please talk if you need to.”

He paused.

“I just… I feel guilty about Rantaro. I should have said something to Miu… I know I shouldn’t have stayed silent but h- he…”

His throat tightened.

“I don’t know what happened to you exactly, but… He did something bad to you, didn’t he?”

His silence provided him the answer.

“I can’t blame you for reacting the way you did… I know I shouldn’t talk behind people’s backs, but I know Miu is biased, and I can’t blame her either.”

“What I’m trying to say is, you shouldn’t feel bad about keeping it a secret. Maybe things would have gone differently if you talked about your worry, but… You are not the one who is responsible for his death.”

Shuichi stayed silent, a bit surprised by his words.

“Kokichi…”

“If anyone is at fault, it’s whoever organized the killing game, right? So the only thing we can do is to stop them.”

He felt a smile form on his lips, despite the tears threatening to fall at any moment.

“… Thank you.”

“No problem, that’s the least I can do now.”

Shuichi glanced back at the conversation.

"Do you think we should try communicating with them?" he asked. "I don't even know what we'll get out of it, but we could try."

Kokichi frowned. "It feels weird talking to the people who did all of this to us... But we don't have anything to lose, right?"

"I don't think so..."

Shuichi approached the keyboard and took a deep breath.

==

         I managed to get back to the room. What's the next step of the plan? <

==

"Wait... Aren't they watching us with the cameras?" Kokichi asked. "Don't they know it's us?"

Shit.

Shuichi slowly turned to him. "W-What do we do now?"

They stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity.

"I don't think they'll answer..." Shuichi mumbled.

He reduced the window size to look at what was available on the computer. Unfortunately, there weren't many icons, but one stood out to him.

"Mastermind rules...?"

He clicked on the icon. It looked like a set of rules they had to follow.

Overall, nothing was alarming or too out of place. Check the room and give updates as often as possible, always keep an eye on the participants, interact as little as possible with the environment not to disturb the game...

... But then, his eyes landed on one specific rule.

#10. Prevent suicides

There is always a possibility a participant will try to end their life at some point in the game, and at a time it is not welcome (i.e.: less than 24 hours after a trial, a participant's death -unless chapter 3- or at any moment the death will be too obvious for a proper trial to be done). In that case, make sure the participant stays alive for the sake of the game by whatever means necessary. Keep an eye on them until the situation is suitable enough for them to do so, or if they simply don't want to commit the act anymore.

Shuichi's eyes widened.

"That's... That's what we're worth to them?" Kokichi's voice was shaking.

The blue-eyed teen swallowed, taking a step back. "This… This is..."

…

If he had truly wished to end it all... The mastermind themselves would have come to his rescue, for the sole purpose of continuing the game...?

How was he supposed to feel about this?!

Obtained truth bullet! Mastermind's rules

He instinctively closed the window.

Thankfully, there wasn't much they could search in this computer anymore, aside from one icon Kokichi pointed out.

"Hey, look at this, maybe... Maybe this is about the cameras?"

Shuichi clicked on it, and to their surprise, all the screens lit up, showing different cameras around the academy. But the cameras looked like they were... flying? They were at the very least not attached to a wall, the ground, or a ceiling, and they were moving.

He spotted Kaito's exisal and Monoshi still hardly fighting against the other bears, Miu running around the main building and Kirumi walking towards the dorms' building.

Another screen showed their faces, staring at the camera. And yet, there was nothing in their field of vision aside from the screen of the computer.

Very disturbing, to say the least.

On the main laptop was a gigantic list of... 'nanokumas'?

There seemed to be hundreds of them, each marked as active, aside from a small portion of them, marked as destroyed.

Were they the cameras? Cameras small enough not to be noticed by anyone?

Rantaro was right on many more guesses than he thought.

Obtained truth bullet! Nanokumas

Since there wasn't much to see here, he closed the window.

"So... What do we do now?" Kokichi asked before glancing at the table. “Hm?”

Shuichi turned to him. “What is it?”

“Kirumi and I found a key next to the computer, that she guessed was a master key, something that could unlock all rooms. But it’s gone now, she might have taken it.”

A very useful item that he despised the existence of.

He looked at the entrance in the library. "There is nothing left to check in this room, so we might as well get out. I hate this place."

His friend nodded. "Yeah…”

And so they did. Once they were out, they decided to split up to check places they might have missed.

There was one place Shuichi needed to go to.

He glanced at the dorms building where Kirumi had supposedly gone to.

He needed to get there. He ran as fast as he could to avoid any possible damage.

Shuichi immediately closed the door behind him, and the ruckus outside became less loud. But the silence of the dorms was not that much more reassuring.

His eyes drifted to the different rooms, now all empty, as their owners were either dead or investigating. However...

... He noticed one door was slightly opened.

Rantaro's.

He swallowed and approached the room.

...

...

After what felt like an eternity, he found the courage to quietly open the door.

He felt himself gag right after stepping into his room.

There was a strange mix of unpleasant smells- nothing like Tatsuya's lab, though. A mix of sweat, chemicals and medicine drowned in a sea of heavy enclosed air. The room itself was incredibly messy and disorganized. He noticed a needle on the bedside table with a bottle of liquid medicine, a half-emptied bottle of water, and pills.

The bed was not even made. The pillow was thrown away and the blanket had fallen on the floor next to the bed.

His eyes glanced towards the wardrobe. It was supposed to have a mirror, but... The shattered shiny pieces of aluminum on the ground told enough for him to understand what had happened.

Looking at this scene made his heart ache. Everything he had seen in the mastermind's room had been messed up, but...

Seeing the madness in the most intimate place they had for themselves was something else. It felt like he wasn't entering a simple room, but rather getting a glimpse of the fragmented mind of his former friend. The one who laid down his life for them- for their safety and out of spite.

His head turned to the bathroom, and that's when he noticed the other person in the room- who hadn't noticed him yet.

Kirumi was staring in front of her, an unreadable expression on her face.

She placed a hand on the mirror, gently brushing it with her long, thin fingers.

After swallowing, he stepped forward.

Kirumi suddenly turned around, just noticing him.

"... It's you."

Shuichi looked down for a moment. "Sorry if I surprised you."

Her shoulders dropped as she turned back to her reflection. "It's fine."

It’s only then that he noticed the state of the mirror, which had been out of his sight until now.

Shattered.

Three strikes that left crackles all over the piece of furniture. The mirror was barely keeping it together. One move too brutal and everything would fall apart, breaking into a million more pieces. Their reflections were distorted by the splits, one of the strikes ironically placed around Shuichi's head.

He could only stare, a hand clenching his heart and his mind drowning in never-ending dread.

(BGM)

They stared at themselves, not even daring to look at the other’s reflection, in a silence that he would have enjoyed at any other moment, but right now, he couldn’t describe it as anything other than suffocating.

His eyes drifted to the glass shards in the sink and the opened tubes of painkillers. The unpleasant smell was stronger, it was impossible to ignore it.

"..."

"Kirumi..."

She glanced at his reflection. "Yes?"

"Can we even stop them?"

She stayed silent for a moment, looking at herself.

"I don't know."

"The mastermind and their allies are powerful, and they seem to have total control over us."

"I would be lying if I said I truly believed everyone would get a happy ending."

Shuichi looked down.

"What even is a happy ending? One where we at least survive? Do we escape the academy? Will we able to go home?"

"What's... What's your happy ending, Kirumi?"

Her eyes widened a bit. Was she… caught off guard?

"..."

"... My happy ending, huh?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"It’s not like I can choose my destiny. The moment this game started, the possibilities for my future narrowed down to very few thin lines.”

“I do not care what happens to me in the end. I know my purpose was to stay alive at all costs, but… There’s no point believing in that anymore.”

“Perhaps I will die, perhaps I will live, and it doesn’t matter. What I truly wish for is to stay true to my morals.”

She paused.

“I know this might sound nonsensical, but I despise cruelty. I’ve seen many flaunting its greatness, but I always believed those people were the weakest humans to ever live.”

“Being cruel is admitting you are unable to suppress a mere urge, that you are nothing but an animal.”

“A simple proof of inhumanity.”

Her eyes hadn’t moved from her own reflection.

“I don’t want to die as a beast, a slave taking orders without second thought, nor as a killer.”

“My happy ending… is to die as Kirumi Tojo.”

…

Shuichi looked down.

“And you?”

His eyes darted up.

“What is yours?”

He looked back at himself.

... What was his happy ending?

"You don't have to answer me. All that matters is that you know what you want and what you believe in."

"Believe me, it takes a lot of mental strength to bring yourself to question all of this, but once you do, it's a new path that opens to you."

"One that you won't regret, even if things may not go exactly as you wanted."

She walked out of the bathroom.

"This killing game changed us all. It's our job to gather the misery and despair we felt for so long and throw it back in the faces of the wretched monsters who ruined our lives."

The sound of her heels faded away.

He stared at where she was standing for a minute before turning to the mirror again.

He wished to say his happy ending is one where they all escape and go home, but…

That was dream out of his reach, and he had to accept it.

Perhaps they would never stop those behind the scenes. Perhaps they would never find peace.

Perhaps they were all going to die.

But…

He couldn’t wallow in what-if’s.

He was going to fight until the end, for those who died, and those by his side.

He may never achieve a true happy ending, but to die trying to get it would be better than to let everyone’s sacrifices be in vain.

And he had just the right idea for a way to end this game.

After sharing one last glance with his shattered reflection, he left Rantaro's room.

He opened the door of the dorms building to see the long-haired woman standing there.

Kaito's exisal was down, surrounded by the four others.

The mecha opened to reveal their friend coughing. He lifted his head to look at them both. He was...

Defeated.

"Kaito!!"

Miu's voice echoed in the courtyard as she sprinted with Kokichi towards them.

"Puhuhu! My, my! You put up quite a fight! I'm impressed!"

Monokuma's laughter ringed in their ears.

"Unfortunately for you, it looks like your little temper tantrum is over!"

Kaito tried to get himself out of the exisal but was struggling to do so with only one functioning leg. Miu ran up to help him, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"So... How was your little period of free time without your beloved headmaster? Did you have fun running around? Going into my super-ultra-mega private rooms?"

"Fuck you." Kaito spat.

"I will take that as a yes!~" the robot laughed. "Now, now. Since this unwanted chaos is finally over, shall we-

"I demand a trial!!"

Everyone turned to the source of the voice.

Shuichi had taken a step forward. That might be the dumbest idea ever, but if this game had to end, it had to be like this.

He stared at the bear in the eyes.

“I want one last trial to end all of this.”

Kaito looked at him with eyes that screamed ‘what are you doing?’. But… That was the only way.

“Rantaro said it himself, this game is over. We have seen what was behind the scenes and we will not partake in this madness anymore!"

He pointed a finger at him. "This is your trial! Your trial as the culprit of everyone's murders in this killing game! And if you don’t want to accept this reason…”

“… Then think of this trial as the one for Keebo’s murderer, since you lied about Kaito being the culprit of the case.”

...

Monokuma looked surprised, although it was hard to read his mechanical face.

"Puhuhu... You do have some guts! Can’t say the same about my sweet monokubs… and myself, but that’s not the point.”

His glare did not falter.

“Very well! I accept the deal!”

"Everyone, please gather at the shrine of judgment!"

The bear and his cubs jumped away to their destination.

Once alone, everyone turned to him.

"Shuichi... Do you really think this is a good idea?"

He wanted to say he wasn't sure, but now wasn't the time to doubt.

"This is our only choice if we want to end the game. I don’t think Monokuma would have accepted to do anything else."

Kirumi crossed her arms. “Monokuma has already accepted the deal. I can’t say I had better ideas, though.”

Kokichi nodded in agreement.

Shuichi looked at his friends with a weak smile. "Let's end this, everyone."

Miu put a hand on his shoulder. "Then let's go. Together."

"You guys are going to have to sum up the situation for me, because I have zero clue how your investigation went." Kaito sighed.

The four others glanced at each other. He was lucky not to have seen the horrors of the mastermind’s room, but they would have to tell him at some point.

"We'll... We'll do that in due time, don't worry." Miu mumbled.

Kaito sensed her worry and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, I know you guys did well. We'll talk about it during the trial, alright?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

They arrived at the shrine, which had been slightly damaged by the exisals. The elevator opened, and the five survivors stepped in.

This was it.

The final trial where everything would end.

He could feel his heart racing in his chest as they got closer and closer to the courtroom.

He glanced at each of his friends, the ones who were still alive with him.

Kokichi, who, despite the hardships he went through before and during the game, gathered the strength to surpass them all, with the help of the kind hearts of the group.

Kaito, who, despite his disability as well as the false accusations thrown against him during the third trial, was someone one could count on, a great friend who wouldn’t let you down.

Miu, who, despite her willingness to kill for her cherished son at the beginning of the game, turned her sorrow into determination to end the game and to fight against their captor, and used her compassion to help whoever needed her.

Kirumi, who, despite her title, was one of his greatest allies, helped him through the hardest times, as well as the rest of them with a great strength, intelligence, as well as the double-edged sword that her condition is.

Friends that he would never, ever forget.

…

The elevator ride was even longer than last time- were they in yet another room?

His question was quickly answered when the door opened.

The courtroom did not even look like one anymore. The decoration was as futuristic looking as the podiums, with bright neon colors vibrating in the dark. And yet, the room was illuminated well enough for them to be able to see each other clearly.

They went to their podiums. And now, eleven of them were occupied by portraits stained by pink crosses.

They looked at each other, all uncertain about the outcome.

But they had to do this.

This killing game was going to end, right here and there, at last.

#ndrv3 #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 au #beta au #main story

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 8)

Masterlist

Synopsis: When for once rich doesn’t rhyme with Christian Grey.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

-

Swinging my bag over my shoulder and tucking it under my armpit, pick up the large box containing my brand new set of portfolios I just picked up from the printing store. The box obstructing my vision, I trust my instincts to guide me to the office. I close my trunk with one free hand and walk a few steps, peeking to the side of the box to watch for the steps before the double doors.

I give one of the doors a great push with my feet, but it comes back too fast and slams right into me as I try to walk in. Squealing, I lose my balance and send the box flying, falling onto my butt spectacularly.

“Damn it.” I mutter to myself, looking at the dozen of my portfolios scattered next to the tipped box. I reach for one but almost grab two leather shoes.

“I can’t believe how clumsy you are.” Mr.Jeon crouches down before my eyes, all grey suit and sickening looks. I nearly jump.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my face a mix of horror and surprise.

“I came to pay my consultation fees.” He explains, pricking up each of my photo books and stacking them. I give myself a mental slap and help him clean my mess.

“You forgot to charge me.” He adds. Yeah, that was a detail I wish no one would have noticed.

“Did I?” I feign surprise, and he answers with a soft chuckle. ’S’all good now.” He says reassuringly, getting back up with a cheetah’s ease. He stretches a hand down to me.

“I always pay my debts.” He declares.  I take his hands and try to ignore how it feels around mine and he helps me up, before handing me my box.

“Do you think you’ll be okay with this?” He asks once I can’t see him anymore, and I hear him press the button for the elevator.

“Yes, thank you.” I murmur, so glad that my crimson face is hidden from his view by the cardboard box.

“Have a good day.” I hear him say to me as I step in. Please go away. I punch the third floor button.

“You too.” I choke out as the doors close. I sigh deeply. Please let this be the last of last times I see this man.

“Hi everyone.” I call once I enter the office.

“Morning. You just missed Mr. HotButtocks.”  Jade teases, eyebrows wriggling. Oh, please.

“Who she forgot to charge for the consultations.” Fred chimes in before I can answer, appearing behind Ava with a bunch of folders in his hands. Oh, crap.

“Well, it wasn’t-“

“Save it. He tipped. A lot.” He cuts me off. I almost sigh in relief. “What’s all this?” He asks me.

“Port folios.” I reply, starting to walk to my office again. This is getting heavy.

“Need help?” I hear Ava call after me. I look at her over my shoulder.

“I got it! It’s pancakes that I need Ava!” I retort. When I turn my head back and make a turn down the hallway, I bump into a firm chest,  sending my package flying once more. The content pilled on the floor, I look up to the man in front of me.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The tall, platinum blonde asian guy says, crouching down to clean the mess. 

“It’s okay.” I reply, more intrigued by the reason of his presence than anything.  I join him on the floor, quickly throwing my portfolios back into the box.

“Kim Namjoon.” He pauses to streatch his hand out.  “I’m the new architect.”

The new architect?

“I’m Maya Fair. Nice to meet you.” I reply, shaking his hand. 

“I had no idea Fred had hired someone.” I tell hm, unable to hide my surprise.

“He thinks it could be plus for the company to have both designers and architects.” My new colleague says to me. It’s not a stupid idea.

“He also told me you would be my partner.” He adds, lifting himself off the floor with the bax in his arms.

“Partner?” I repeat, rising to my feet.

“We have our first client who asked for both a designer and an architect.” He says as I open the door to my office. We’re already starting?!

“It’s 10 ten in the morning.” I gape at him. I’m sure Fred hasn’t communicated on it yet, how would anybody now we have an architect?

“It’s good friend of mine.” He clears up as we both step into my office. Oooh.

“Oh, Maya.” Fred calls from outside the door.

“I see you’ve met Namjoon.” He smiles at the newest employee.

“Yes, he just told me about the two-in-one.” I tell him.

“Then, you’re fine. I gotta go. Bye!” He sings, nearly pirouetting his way out of my office. Namjoon and I both chuckle at him.

“Where should I put this?” He asks, my package still in his hands,

“I could take advantage of your height and have you put it up here.” I propose, pointing at my unused top shelf reserved for my drawing equipment.

“No problem.” Namjoon replies, placing the box on the shelf with ease and grace I could never have.

I thank him warmly and ask him about our appointment today.

“It’s at 2pm, downtown near the design museum. Should we take my car?” He proposes. I don’t mind not driving for once. This two-in-one package has its perks.

“Sure.” I reply.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. See you.” He greets before leaving my office. Taking a cleansing breath, I slide behind my desk, ready to get to work.

“Cute, right?”

I look up and see Ava standing in my doorway, hip jutted ou and a plate of pancakes in her hand. I chuckle rolling my eyes.

“What about Eli?” I shoot back.

“No one’s above Elijah. But he is cute, right?” She replis, walking over to my desk. Ava is addicted to men, it’s crazy. I grab a pancake and shove it down my throat.

“M’yeah.” I mumble. He is cute, but the. real snack is that pancake for me.

“He’s from Seoul, graduated from Barlett, and worked with people like Emma Thomson and the Beckham’s.” She gives me his whole resume without me asking, raising her eyebrows in excitement. So he’s high class, huh?

“Aren’t we a little small for him?” I raise a brow, and Ava replies with a clueless shrug.

“You know, Maya.” She trails off. “I had no idea Jeon was putting you through all this.”

“It’s fine, Ava. Really.” I reply dismissively, reaching out for a second pancake. 

“It’s all behind me now.” I reassure her.

“I can’t wait to get back to work actually.” I say excitedly.

“Well, I’ll let you do just that.” She declares, turning on her heels.

“Thanks for the pancakes!” I say to her back before she exits the room.

-

“Miss Fair?”

I lift my head from my scribbles and see Mr.Namjoon standing in the doorway of my office.

“It’s Maya. We’re colleagues.” I give him a warm smile that he returns immediately.

“Okay well, you can call me Joon if you want. ” He says to me.

“Joon. Is it time?” I ask him.

“Yep.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’ll be outside.” He says before closing the door and ambling off. I quickly gather my belongings, my portfolio, my tablet and my note bad, before joining Namjoon at the elevator.

“Who are we meeting?” I ask him.

“Choi Minah. A friend from Seoul.” He explains. I’m meeting a lot of Korean people these days. From Mr.Jeon to him to Mrs.Choi.

“Oh.”

“She’s a designer for Alexander McQueen.” He tells me, though I don’t really know what to do with this information.

“Interesting.” I say to myself. So he’s a high-class architect bringing us his high-class clients. Why did he settle for us? We are way too small of a company.

-

“A round apartment in a square building?” I utter once we're out of the appointment. Miss Choi has been very friendly with us, she's easy going, funny and very elegant as I had imagined, but she's also very edgy.

She likes vintage decors, clothes and even vintage movies. She lives in the wrong century. Her requirements were...disruptive. Not impossible to realize, just very...interesting.

“Rita doesn’t do conventional.” Namjoon explains as we walk back to his car. We both know that's an understatement. She's unique.

“Had the building been round she would’ve wanted a triangle house.” He muses.

“If she’s opting for minimalism I won’t be much help.” I retort. The project sounds amazing, but I don't see how I can ring much to it. Namjoon might as well have gone alone and asked for advice if be needed any.

“Of course you would. You’ve done plenty of such projects.” He counters.

“How do you know?” I ask, squinting my eyes at him. He gives me an embarrassed smile.

“I borrowed one of your portfolios.” He admits. 

“Borrowed?” I repeat. When did he do that.

“It fell out of your box.” He says. I lift an eyebrow. What a sneaky dude.

“I was going to give it back, I promise.” He says reassuringly. Oh, whatever.

"Well we could trade portfolios. I'd like to see your work." I tell him.

"I'll get you- Oh.” Namjoon freezes and stops in his tracks, eyes glued to a sign. Looking in the same direction, I realise we’re in front of the design museum, and he is reading the colourful banner above the entry.

“An RCR exposition?” He says under his breath.

“What’s that?” I enquire, clueless.

“Rafael Aranda, Carme Pigen dnd Ramon Vilalta, three of the best architects in the entire world." He nearly gushes, a smile stretching his face. Well, if you say so…

 “I knew they were in London to work on a house, but I had no idea they would have an exposition here.” He mumbles to himself, frowning deeply. I read the sign.

“It’s the last day.” I remark. “Do you want to have a quick look?” I propose, and he directs his frown to me.

“Shouldn’t we get back to the office?” He says. Well, we can always take the long way home.

“Fred won’t know.” I say reassuringly, I always make pit stops between meetings if I ever have to.

“I don’t know if I should be doing this on my first day.” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.  Don’t tell me he’s a bootlicker!

“Oh, come on.” I refrain an eye roll. “We can be out in ten minutes. Plus, it’s your last chance.” I argue, and that seems to do the trick.

“A quick look then.” He says quietly, refraining a smile to hide his excitement. 

Jeez, he must really love these guys. As an interior designer I’ve always been interested in architecture. I have always admired the way our ancestors have pushed the limits of what we could build, of how they could create entire spaces that tell stories. 

Namjoon. and I walk into the museum and amble in the middle f the exhibit. For someone so excited about these architect, my colleague seems to be skimming over each model and picture quite fast, almost as if h was looking for something.

“It’s there.” He nearly gasps, stopping in front of a replica of a cubic, rainbow-gradient coloured building.

“El petit Combe.” He says. I take a closer loo at the colourful yet minimalistic square.

“They made this in collaboration with Lego’s.” He explains to me. Now that I know that, I’m less bothered by all the squareness of the place.

“Playing with Lego’s is actually what made me want to be an architect. Before my parents would start buying me equipment to draw plans, I would use Lego’s to build models.” He explains to me. What a lovely story. And what a ingenious kid he must have been! I remember doing the exact same thing with Lego’s whenever I wanted to change the layout of my bedroom, but when I was a teen.

“And this actually is a school in Spain.” He says, pointing at “El Petit Combe”.

“Imagine going to school in a Lego building.” He whispers to himself. His passion for architecture is nearly palpable, the excitement in his eyes visible and almost contagious.

“Are they building a Lego house in London? Is that why they’re here?” I enquire, which makes him chuckle.

“I wish.” He says, walking away from his favorite piece. I follow him to wards the back of the room to see the rest of the exhibit. “I haven’t been up to date with the project, but I think they’re finishing their Mesh Manor.”

“Mesh Manor?”

“Ever heard of the Mesh House in Hampstead?”

I shake my head, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

“It looks like this.” He says, showing me a picture. Ah, mesh as in mesh textures in modelling softwares!

“They’re using the same concept but making it their own. On a bigger scale.” He explains. “Speaking of the devil.”

He stops in front of a replica of what would be the manor. My brain can’t really wrap itself around the idea of having such a big building built like this. The scale of this project is huge. But it doesn’t feel at all like a manor, just like a manor-size piece of contemporary art.

“You can hardly call this a manor.” I remark.

“It fits the definition.” He retorts. I mean, yeah, if it comes with enough land.

“I wonder what the inside looks like.” I muse. I am currently imagining luxurious minimalism, which of course would fit but which I am also bored of.

“I’m curious to see what they were trying to express with this.” I tell myself. “I hope it’s not minimalism.”

“Well, you could see for yourself.”

When I snap my head towards Namjoon, he’s reading a leaflet he found next to the description of the replica.

“They’re doing an inauguration party.” He tells me. Oh, do they?! I could go with Sidney. She loves acting fancy.

“Certified designers and architects only.” He mumbles. Oh, that kind of party?! 

“Proof of employment should be sent to this e-mail address for an invitation to be sent to you.” He reads. That is super selective. Well, it’s a high class project carried out by high-class architects. 

“Dress code: suit and tie or cocktail dress.” He finishes. That sounds a lot of fun, but I can’t go with my baker of a roommate.

"Would you like to go with me?” He proposes. 

What? He’s already asking me out on a date. I have nothing against him, but I’ve had enough os testosterone for at least a month. Hell, I’m so fucking blind I hadn’t noticed he was interested in me.

“Not as a date though.” He adds quickly. i blink up at him.

“I’m really not trying to ask you out.” He says. If we weren’t on the same page I’d be offended.

“But if we both enjoy architecture, we can have a good time.” He explains, and I hide my relief. This could be fun. 

“Sure!” I nod vigorously. “Sure. It’ll be fun.”

He grins, eyes almost disappearing.

“Perfect.” He pipes up. Looks like I have a not-a-date this weekend. "We should get back to the office now."

#jungkook scenarios #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts jimin #jungkook fanfic #park jimin #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #namjoon #namjoon smut #RM #rm smut #bangtan scnearios #bangtan smut #jimin fanfic #rm fanfic #namjoon fanfic #twh

[rachelthompsonauthor]

What is social proof? It’s a marketing concept that we are all inadvertently, unknowingly contributing to every time we click on, retweet, like, reply or comment, and share any kind of social media, article, or blog post on the net. Technically, social proof, as defined by Sprout Social is:

The concept that people will follow the actions of the masses. The idea is that since so many other people behave in a certain way, it must be the correct behavior.

Social Proof and Me

As an author, social media is a hugely important part of my author platform, as it is for any writer or blogger. This is how we connect with readers now, even before the pandemic. Virtual, online events are now the norm. Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube Live video discussions are the new book signings. Twitter chats are weekly on any number of topics; I have two of my own, in fact, #SexAbuseChat every Tuesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est and #BookMarketingChat every Wednesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est.

All important for visibility, branding, and most importantly, connection.

However…there’s a limit. I reached my limit over the course of this past year. It didn’t come all at once. It came, little by little, reaching a peak this past month or so.

Why? How? Me, the so-called social media expert?

Access. Like many people, I have issues with the incredible level of access Facebook gives people once we friend them without our consent. PMs (private messages) are automatic, now with the ability for people to call, voice, and video message us, with no option to shut these options to OFF unless we unfriend the person (we can, however, mute a specific conversation). Technically, we do give them consent in the legal mumbo jumbo we all agreed to when we joined back in the 2010s.

I am not okay with this. And Facebook doesn’t care. Nobody cares. You’re probably thinking, “Geez, Karen. Shut up, already. Stop your whining, white lady.” I get it. I do. First-world problems.

I counter with: I hear you. It’s also part of my business. A huge part. Here’s why:

As someone who manages over 70+ various social media accounts as part of my BadRedhead Media business, plus my own accounts as well, Facebook requires I have a personal account in order to manage all those other Pages. I do understand why, particularly with all the ridiculousness of the past four years with the abundance of fake accounts, fake news, and such.

As a survivor of sexual abuse and stalking, this is ultra-concerning to me. So, what happened this past month or so? Suffice it to say, one person repeatedly tried calling me. I never pick up Facebook calls, especially if I don’t know you. Another left me a few voice messages saying they were offended by something.

Yet another left me another message in ALL SHOUTY CAPS that she didn’t find what I posted inspirational enough and she expected better from someone who is “supposedly on the side of authors.”

Oh, and there is the one lady who started replying on ALL my posts to the kind people who did comment that she didn’t think I replied often enough or to her satisfaction.

Well. I’ve been criticized before. You should read some of my 1-star reviews. There’s plenty!

But, for whatever reason, this struck a chord. I got up in my feels. I cried. I talked with one of them and we worked it out because we like and respect each other’s work in the mental health space. The others I blocked. It’s darn frustrating to donate hours of my time each week to helping writers solely because I want to, only to be told it’s not enough. Like, seriously? Fuck off.

My blood raged. My heart sank. Understandable, right?

But what really made me angry is that I put myself in that position by being available. I accepted that ‘it is what it is.’ This is what the social media platforms have given us, so that’s what I have to work within.

I’m too available. It’s too easy to leave me shitty messages. This is why people hire people like me – to handle this crap for them! So they don’t have to read these ridiculous criticisms from judgy people who apparently have nothing better to do or are having a bad day.

And I get bad days. It’s a damn pandemic. We’re all struggling. Where’s the damn compassion for one another?

I have a dislike/hate relationship with Facebook anyway, since about ten or so years ago when I discovered that a past love had died by suicide by going to his personal profile and seeing, “RIP dude,” messages there. We had spoken early that day. It still haunts me.

So…what to do? I’m claiming my time. I’m not posting to my personal Facebook profile right now. I’m ignoring it. I am checking my Pages and of course, my client Pages. When I feel like I can face it again, I will cull my ‘friends’ down from *checks real quick* 4385 people to maybe, I don’t know, the few hundred in my groups, many of whom I do know and treasure.

Social Proof and You

If you’re a writer, social proof matters. This is the world we live in. Publishing is not only writing.

You need to be ‘findable,’ not only on Google, but also on each individual social platform, so your readers can learn more about you and hopefully, buy your books. If you go the traditional route, publishers and agents want to know how many followers you have (easily upped by buying fake followers or likes from Fiverr or wherever). I suggest not doing that, because:

1) fake followers don’t buy books 

2) it’s usually pretty obvious when you have fake followers because they’re all foreign names, have questionable bios, and no tweets

3) do you really want to start your publishing career with a lie? 

They also want to know what you post, how often, and what your branding is. If you’re an indie author, honestly, the same applies. Social proof is about connection, building relationships, and authenticity. I’ve believed that since I started my business and writing career way back in 2011, and I stand by it now. Start slow, grow slow. It’s not a race.

I’m the furthest thing you’ll even find from a conspiracy theorist – I don’t believe in chemtrails, pizza parlor cabals, or that the earth is flat. However, I am a realist. Watch The Social Dilemma sometime. These huge tech companies share our data without our knowledge or consent (Cambridge Analytics, anyone?). Younger generations are so used to this, they don’t really care – ask them.

(My kids think having a chip implanted in their hands with all their data is a fabulous idea. “So much easier than having to talk and repeat everything over and over. Just scan me and be done with it,” says my daughter Anya (21). “Agree,” grunts my son, Lukas (15). Buy stuff, go to the doctor, whatever. Scan and go. Talk with any GenZ kid, you’ll likely get a similar answer. They’ve been tracked since birth everywhere. They don’t know life without a computer, tablet, or phone in their hands.)

Know that whatever we do, it’s all part of each platforms’ AI, and they share data, which is why that darling pair of shoes you just saw on Amazon is now showing up on Google, Facebook, Twitter, and every website you visit going forward. It’s all about the money, and they all get a piece of that affiliate link.

Every bit of every click is recorded, even when you’re watching videos on YouTube, or a subscription service like Netflix, or perusing goods on Amazon. It’s all connected. I’m not shocked or surprised by any of this, are you?

It’s Not Personal

What people say to us and about us is ultimately incredibly revealing about them. We know this, at an intellectual, psychological, and emotional level. Still, when people say mean things, it hurts. We’re human.

Does it matter in the overall scope of our lives? Who can say. It matters at that moment. It can matter when it comes to overall visibility when you’re marketing your book(s) or trying to get that book contract or interview. Only you can say if it matters to you.

Already a longtime fan of THE FOUR AGREEMENTS by Don Miguel Ruiz, I took a moment to reorient myself with this one agreement: Don’t take anything personally. I also stumbled across an excellent short and entertaining TEDTalk by Frederick Imbo. His main message to stop taking things personally is two-fold;

It’s not about me. Look at the other person’s intention and

It IS about me. Give yourself some empathy. Speak up. Ask questions. Pay attention to how you feel and be vulnerable with your needs.

I’m glad I was able to, inadvertently, employ point #2 and work out some issues with one of the people by telling him what he said made me cry. He apologized. I apologized. We talked it through and we’re still friends.

Ultimately, social media is what we contribute to it. What we make it. How much we allow of it into our lives. Social proof is going along with the tide. I’ve been in this space since 2008. Being connected to others is a big part of the work I do to help and support not only other writers, but also other childhood sexual abuse survivors. However, I’ve reached that point. I knew it was coming.

I’m not shutting my doors. I’m just adding a screen. With a strong lock.

***

Read more about Rachel’s experiences in the award-winning book, Broken Pieces.

She goes into more detail about living with PTSD and realizing the effects of how being a survivor affected her life in

Broken Places, available in print everywhere!

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[somedayonbroadway]

Could you make an AU of “A Babysitters Guide to Monster Hunting” please?

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

So this is a cute movie. I haven’t read the books, but here we go anyway!

A Babysitter’s Guide to Monster Hunting AU

Characters

Racetrack Higgins — Kelly Furgeson

Jack Kelly — Liz LeRue

Romeo — Jacob Zellman

Obadiah Weisel — Grand Guignol

Katherine Plumber — Berna Vincent

David Jacobs — Cassie Zhen

Albert DaSilva — Curtis Critter

Hannah — Peggy Drood

JoJo — Broccoli (Does that kid have a name?)

Spot Conlon — Victor Colleti

Crutchie Morris — Kevin LeRue

Race has never been popular. Ever since he was little he’s been made fun of for countless things such as taking gymnastics as a kid, being a math wiz (a nerd, as most like to call him), being gay, and being Manhattan’s resident “Monster Boy”. See. When Race was young, he’d had a horrid series of nightmares, actually plaguing him with insomnia from a young age.

His parents had been gone. He’d only been five at the time. And there had been monsters in his closet. To this day he can still remember how real it all felt. How the earth shook beneath him and a green glowed from his closet. He remembers a hand covered in rings pushing open the door, he remembers glowing green eyes and yellow teeth. He remembers someone singing to him.

He’d made the mistake of falling asleep in class the next day, reliving the memory before he’d woken up crying about monsters trying to take him away.

Ever since then, he’d been known to the masses as “Monster Boy”. It wasn’t a very clever name, but it stuck.

After this, Race takes to hating sleep. He never wants to close his eyes, much less take a nap. But he manages and it doesn’t hurt that he’s wickedly smart and very physically fit. He can go for a long time without sleep and gets very good and functioning without a lot of it.

High school is something Race would rather skip completely, but as he’s stuck there, he lets himself develop a hopeless crush on the boy that’s just about got every girl wrapped right around his finger.

Spot Conlon. The hottest boy in school.

Though his best friend JoJo never fails to encourage him to try and talk to the older boy, Race always chickens out. However, a Halloween party set in place nearly gets Race to change his mind, as he figures Halloween is the most cliché day of the year to be at one’s most confident. Race never minded cliches. So he figured why not. He sets a plan into place to get the nerve up to dance with Spot Conlon but these plans get crushed when his mother hesitantly tells him that she’s volunteered him to babysit on Halloween night.

Angered and irritated by this, Race tries to call on his dad for help but is left on his own to argue. Ultimately he loses, as the person his mother promised him to for the night is her ice queen of a boss who could fire her easily if she had to back down.

So Race babysits that night.

Upon his arrival, he’s given a list of tasks that need to be done for little Romeo, a boy who’s not allowed sugar, more than thirty minutes of screen time, or any kind of scary stories. Race can hardly get a word in as the woman takes him to the little boy who’s hiding away in his room, looking terrified of his own toys. But Race introduces himself to the poor kid before seeing the boy’s mother off and calling JoJo, having absolutely no idea what to do because the little kid he’s supposed to be babysitting won’t come out of his room.

JoJo is happily showing Race all that he’s missing at the party. This is when Race hears someone rummaging around in the cupboard. He runs over to find Romeo stuffing his face with so much chocolate he can’t get a word out. When Race tells him to stop and spit out whatever he has in his mouth for the sake of getting him to bed on time, Romeo grabs all he can carry and bolts, trying to reach his room before Race manages to chase him down and push his way into his room.

Forcing his way inside, Race finds that the only reason Romeo stole the candy was because he wanted a sugar rush to keep him awake. Curling up on his bed in fear, Romeo shows Race drawings of the monsters that were coming to get him at night, every time he tried to sleep.

Understanding Romeo’s fears, Race gently talks him through it, explaining that he’d gone through the very same thing when he was Romeo’s age. The five year old trusts Race, now fifteen, practically an adult to him, when he tells him that none of these monsters are real, something Romeo’s mother has been telling him for weeks. Though Romeo does believe him, the fear doesn’t truly melt away. So Race, who hasn’t slept in about ten years, pulls out a few gadgets of his own invention. Little nightlights that he makes when he gets bored at night, not sleeping. He gives Romeo one to comfort him as Romeo promises to try and go to sleep and Race leaves him alone, believing this to be an easy night babysitting.

Romeo does his best to relax after Race leaves, but mere minutes later, his room starts shaking. There’s a green glow coming from his closet. Ringed hands push his closet door open and a song begins to fill the room, a lullaby. Romeo tries to hide, fearing he was in the middle of another nightmare but rolling over to find himself staring into glowing green eyes.

Before he can scream, the man hovering above him snaps his fingers, forcing the boy’s lips together. Still, Romeo tries to call out for Race. The odd man then throws a bag over the boy and lets three little goblin-like creatures take him underground.

Hearing a commotion coming from Romeo’s bedroom, Race rushes back in to find what he believes to be Romeo cowering under his blankets. When he pulls the thing back, he finds a horrible little yellow monster that was waiting to pounce. Nearly taking a bite out of him, the thing manages to trash the room around Race before disappearing underground with Romeo and the two other monsters that are just like it.

Race tries to jump down after them, but the hole closes up below him and Race is left nearly hyperventilating on the floor.

The second Race can collect himself, he grabs his phone and gets out of that house, calling the police, at a complete loss for what to do. As it is Halloween night, he is not taken seriously and is almost immediately hung up on. But as he’s trying to run for help, a motorcycle screeches to a halt right in front of him, nearly giving Race a heart attack.

The young man that stops in front of him is basically the definition of dark and mysterious, with a leather jacket wrapped around him, a red bandana wrapped around his head, fingerless gloves on his hands and muddy, scuffed up boots on his feet. The only thing that strikes Race as odd is the baby strapped to the older boy’s chest.

Confused at this guy’s sudden presence, Race lets him inspect the surrounding area as the guys start asking questions about what “they” looked like and how many there were. Hardly even thinking, Race answers him before realizing this guy shouldn’t know what happened and asking who the heck he was. The man informs him that he’s a babysitter, Jack Kelly, and that he got a “Nightmare Ping” from this location.

Race hastily explains to Jack that the kid he was supposed to be babysitting was kidnapped by some creatures and he had no idea what they were. Jack, who is proving to be very stand-off-ish and blunt, scoffs at Race’s attempts to be in charge of a human being and goes to investigate, Race hot on his tails the whole time, much to the young man’s annoyance.

With Race’s descriptions of what happened and a hidden message on the wall that makes Jack go slightly pale, the older boy manages to decipher that some toadies took Romeo and that the kid is not underground.

Whilst all of this is happening, Race manages to curiously ask Jack who’s baby he was carrying, insisting that he wouldn’t judge if it was his own. But Jack just tells the baby, Smalls, to say hi. He explains that he’s the little girl’s babysitter and that he was doing what babysitters did, taking care of their kids.

When he’s done searching the room, he asks Race what direction the toadies went, commenting that he was like a human calculator when the boy gives him an exact direction in degrees. He then tells Race to stay put, act cool and play the quiet game before leaving the room and shutting the door on his way out.

It only takes seconds for Race to get spooked and run after Jack, demanding that he take him with.

Jack nearly leaves him, claiming that if Race came with he’d end up cursed, hypnotized, eaten alive or worse, but after Race makes a crucial observation in the yard, Jack realizes he might be useful and tells him to get on the bike. So Race does.

They manage to track the toadie to a playground. Jack mostly ignores Race but, after all the questions the young blond is asking him, he gives him a small tablet with one single book inside it. “A Babysitter’s Guide To Monster Hunting.” He explains that babysitting is more than just turning on a movie and waiting for the kid to go to sleep, that the monsters they have nightmares about as children are real and that babysitter’s are trained to keep those monsters from stealing away their charges in the middle of the night.

Hardly believing this was all real, Race watches Jack snuff out a trap hole made by the toadies at the bottom of a slide. He sets out a trap, placing Smalls down beside the hole and sprinkling baby powder around her. Race realizes that he’s using the baby as bait and gets antsy, even though Jack assured him he’s got it all under control. At the last minute, Race chickens out, rushing to get to the baby right as a monster surfaces from underground. Though Jack tries to stop him, he knows he’s too late so he rushed to fight the monster head on, barely managing to save Small’s who he promised he won’t let anything happen to.

Whilst Jack begins to wrestle with the Toadie, demanding that Romeo be returned to him, Race gets a phone call. It’s Romeo’s mother.

He barely manages to keep the woman’s suspicion down with Jack making a lot of noise all around him but after promising that he’d gotten Romeo to go to sleep, she admits she’s impressed and hangs up, leaving Race to panic even more.

Eventually, Jack manages to catch the monster, putting it in a bag. Race asks what he’s planning on doing and Jack doesn’t answer. He just takes the thing, straps it to his bike and tells Race to get on or go home.

Race gets on.

They end up at Roosevelt College. While they’re walking through, dragging a bag behind them, Race realizes that Jack is nodding and waving to these people like he knows them. Jack reveals to him that he’s a college junior after sarcastically commenting to an attractive girl who inquired about the bag that he had his professor in there.

Understanding absolutely nothing about this boy, Race watches Jack throw the toadie in the trash before using a keycard to get into what looks to be a dark abandoned room. Upon walking inside, Race finds a secret hideout, complete with a lab and a library.

Jack is not the only babysitter in Manhattan.

Race meets Davey, a know-it-all college sophomore who’s studying to become a forensic scientist, Katherine, a very cool, tech-savvy senior who is studying to become a novelist (she runs her own anonymous blog. It’s mostly political. She has a lot of followers), and Albert, a freshman who is studying to become an engineer. He makes their weapons and defenses.

Davey is the only one who wants Race out, but the rest of the team welcome him immediately, promising to find Romeo and get him home safe before midnight. Kat immediately puts a trace on Romeo’s mother’s phone and Albert gets to work on making a memory potion so they can recall every detail of the night while Davey empties the Toadie’s pouch as the thing had fallen through the trash right into their lab.

After dosing Race with some of the memory potion, of which they’d never tested before, Race begins to sing a song, one he’d heard as a little boy, the same one that Jack recognized from his own childhood. Jack goes pale at the lullaby. He shakes his head, not believing what he was hearing and saying that this couldn’t be happening, beginning to pace a bit as Kat and Al both refuse to tell Race what’s going on.

Jack gets ahold of himself and explains that the man that took Romeo is one of the seven worst nightmares in the nightmare realm. He tells him that the only way to defeat the Grand Guignol is to monster-punch angel blood into his heart.

Race insists that he’s not leaving until Romeo is rescued and Jack rolls his eyes, telling Albert to get them some weapons ready. So Albert does, showing Race many different types of emergency weapons including one magic stick that was found in a tomb in Egypt that is rumored to be able to break any hex or curse.

After gearing up, Jack tells Race that if he insists on coming then he can feed the Toadie. Before he can argue, a back of trash is thrown into his arms and the monster is unleashed on him. That’s when Jack reveals he planted a tracker in the trash and that tracker was now in the Toadie’s stomach.

They go to follow him, unaware that the monster had found the tracker and had alerted the Grand Guignol, who had been trying for over an hour now to get Romeo to sleep. The nightmare instructs the monster to lead them down the street to an “old friend”. So the Toadie does without question.

Following the monster, Jack and Race find themselves at a large house that’s partying Halloween style. But it’s not just any party, no. It’s the same one that all of Race’s classmates are at.

It’s the same party that Spot Conlon is at.

Jack goes to get inside, but Race freezes seeing Spot and the girl that everyone assumed Spot was going to start dating, Rafaela. He reveals that he can’t go in there and Jack asks him if he’s really more scared of two teenagers than he was of actual monsters. Race admits a bit shakily that he definitely is and Jack softens, looking at both of the kids. He tells Race that Rafaela looks like any basic girl, dressed as a sexy cat on Halloween, and that, sure, Spot was good looking enough but, why did that have to be so intimidating?

Race nods and finally allows himself to follow Jack inside.

Inside, everyone begins to call Race “Monster Boy” to which Jack says he likes. It’s a pretty cool nickname to have, even if Race already had another one.

While exploring the house and trying to find the Toadie, Race and Jack get separated and Race, quite literally, runs into Spot Conlon who spills his drink on him. Spot tries to apologize, but Race insists it’s alright before Jack pulls him away, leading him down to the basement.

That’s where they find the Toadie who is planning to feed them to a shadow monster hiding in the closet. The Toadie attacks them, leaving them with one shard of glass before shoving them towards the other monster.

Jack remembers that the thing is deathly afraid of light and says that as long as they stay where it’s bright they should be okay. That is, till the Toadie cuts the power.

The party keeps raging above them and Jack rushes to go find a flashlight but Race pulls out his own homemade nightlights to keep the thing back. That’s when Spot finds him, trying again to apologize and asking Racer if they can talk.

Race does his best to look natural while keeping the thing back and leading Spot away, but the monster only follows them. Race turns Spot away from him, eventually shoving the other boy into a room and shutting him in. Spot is confused but goes along with it as Race tries to figure out what to do, eventually using both his gymnastics skills and his math skills to figure out how to stop the thing. He whistles at the crowd and then groans before flipping over the banister and landing on his side on the couch as flashing lights catch the shadow monster that’s trying to eat him.

The thing disappears.

Jack is almost impressed. He would be if that wasn’t such a dumb thing to do. But the second he hears Rafaela scoff and make a dumb comment, he dares her to do it again, making it very clear that Race was a friend of his. And Race’s heart swells at that.

Race’s parents call him, telling him that they just saw a video of him diving off of a banister on Instagram. Katherine diverts the trace that his father put on him and the two go on their way.

The two leave them party, realizing they’d been played before Katherine calls them to explain that there’s an amulet that might be able to put the Grand Guignol to sleep so they can get to Romeo once they figure out where he is.

But they tell Jack that it’s in the possession of Hannah Drood, the crazy cat lady. A witch.

Against Jack’s better judgement, he takes Racer there, telling him that this was the only way they’d be able to save Charlie.

That’s when Race pauses. He asks who Charlie is and Jack knows he slipped up. He tries to keep going, telling Race to forget about it, but Race gets in his way. So he caves.

Charlie is Jack’s little brother. He would be Race’s age by now. When they were little, monsters came into their rooms to take them away. Jack was eleven. Charlie was five. The Grand Guignol sang them a song and Jack fell under his spell, passing out at the nightmare stole his brother away.

He hadn’t seen his brother since. He’d been looking for him his whole life and there was no end in sight. That’s why he did what he did. That’s why he looked out for innocent children.

That’s not what Race expected. But he tells Jack that he’s sorry, that he’d help him keep looking if Jack wanted him too. Jack appreciates that.

They continue on into the witches lair. Jack begins to cough and wheeze, revealing to Race that he’s severely allergic to cats, of which this lady has many. Race begins to get nervous as Jack is looking more and more scared and helpless by the second but Jack gives him a weapon and tells him to douse the witch once they get inside and steal the amulet without looking at it.

Upon arriving in the grand room, Jack falls to the ground, hardly able to breathe. He tells Race to go, but before Race can get close enough to even try, the Grand Guignol appears beside the witch, asking her for her amulet before seeing the two boys in the room. He taunts and teases them, intrigued when he finds the great Jack Kelly wheezing and gasping for air on the ground. He asks the witch if he can keep him, telling her she could have the other one all to herself. She agrees. Race tries to stop him, but the nightmare simply walks over to Jack and throws him over his shoulder, carrying him away. Race tries to go after him but isn’t fast enough.

Then the witch reveals her cats who had been hidden in the couch and the walls. She tells them it’s time to feast. So Race runs.

He didn’t get his nickname for nothing.

He manages to outrun the cats and hops on the motorcycle that Jack yelled at him never to touch and drives away, terrified and confused and unsure of what to do next. But he calls Katherine and tells her what happened, sending her a picture of the glass he’d gotten off of the Toadie earlier.

Katherine tells him that the glass came from an old abandoned lighthouse and that it must be where The Grand Guignol was keeping Romeo, and now Jack. Race hangs up before she can warn him not to go.

Meanwhile, Jack wakes up disoriented and confused. His throat is sore and his legs are weak and he’s in a cage in the middle of a dark room. His phone’s gone and he panics for a second before remembering that Small’s was safe back at Headquarters. All he can do is pull his legs to his chest and just wait.

That is, until a voice starts calling his name.

Charlie’s calling out for him, begging him for help. He’s crying and whimpering but Jack can’t see him. He starts to scream out for him before glowing green eyes appear in front of him, startling him enough to get him to scramble backwards. Jack demands the return of Charlie and Romeo, but it sounds more like desperate screams. The Grand Guignol just pulls Jack towards him, taking the boy’s chin in his hand as he begins to sing a song. A lullaby. Jack can’t help but let tears rush to his eyes as he begins to fall under the spell again, unable to fight it even as he tries to cover his ears.

It only takes a moment for the nightmare to gain complete control over him.

As Race arrives at the lighthouse, he calls Katherine back, explaining to her that he had tied his sweater to the fence just in case he were to get lost. With that, he goes in.

He manages to find Romeo, but The Grand Guignol is still with the little boy after just having lured him to sleep, catching him immediately and sending the Toadies out after Race who capture him in a bag and try to throw him down into the water surrounding the lighthouse. Race manages to get free just before they do, managing to trick them into letting him use Albert’s contraptions on them. Then he runs.

Of course, back at headquarters, things begin to go wrong as the power goes out and a very angry shadow monster is on the loose. David and Albert help Katherine out along with the ball of angel’s blood that Albert had prepared, telling her to go find Race and Jack before it’s too late and that they’d handle it.

That does not go well either.

Race manages to nearly get back to Romeo only to be stopped by Jack who is looking even more distant and withdrawn than usual. Jack claims to know exactly where Romeo is and offers to take him. Reluctantly, Race follows, unsure of what’s gotten into his friend.

Jack leads him to an empty cage and tries to shove him inside as Race realizes that Jack must be under some kind of spell. Race manages to begin and fight, seeing first hand how strong and trained Jack is as the young man easily gets the better of him, throwing him in the cage and locking it, beginning to walk away before Race taps him with the special stick that Albert had given him.

Jack collapses to the floor.

Race calls for Jack, nearly worried he killed him before he bangs on the metal and startles Jack awake. Jack looks around, asking what happened as Race asks how he knows it’s really Jack in which Jack replies that he’d kick Race’s ass if he ever did that again.

Jack let’s Race out and they work together to go find Romeo, at a loss for what to do until they realize that The Grand Guignol still believes Jack is under his control. Jack lures The Grand Guignol out into the open and Race prepares to launch a sneak attack on the nightmare to take him down.

But the nightmare anticipates this and catches Race by the throat when Race tries to jump at him. Jack panics at seeing Race like that, the boy who reminded him somewhat of his own little brother, unable to breathe or fight back, so he tries to help, revealing he’s no longer under the spell and manages to get the Grand Guignol off of Race only to be thrown backwards. The wind is knocked out of him but he tries to make a deal. He’d trade places with Race and Romeo. The Grand Guignol could have him if he just let the other boys go.

The nightmare thinks this over for a moment before stating that he’d rather just take all three of them.

Katherine shows up just before The Grand “Weasel,” as Race spits at him, can lock them up again. She has the angel’s blood, Weasel’s one weakness, and tries to throw it to Race but it is caught by the nightmare himself. Katherine rushes over to a still breathless Jack, helping him breathe as Weasel just laughs at them all.

But, managing to distract Weasel, Race takes the angel's blood with the nightmare’s own hand and plunges the thing into his heart, killing him.

The three rush to Romeo as soon as Jack can take a deep breath again and wake the terrified boy up. Romeo explains that The Grand Guignol had been planning on bringing the nightmare realm to the real world by using Romeo’s nightmares and bringing them to life. Race scoops Romeo up as Jack says the nightmares are still alive and that Romeo’s the only one who can stop them.

It shocks Race a little how good Jack is with kids.

They take Romeo to his brewed nightmares. Race encourages him to tell them that he’s not scared of them anymore. Jack pats him on the shoulder and tells him that he’s stronger than them, that he created them so they were no match for him. So Romeo walks into the room and tells all of the nightmares that he’s not scared of them anymore, causing them to all disappear like they’d never even been there.

The boy then nearly passes out and Jack carries him out, taking the kids back to Romeo’s house just before Romeo’s mother arrives. By then, Romeo is already passed out in bed, his room cleaned up and perfect.

Jack takes Race home, lending him his tablet and telling him to study up because he thinks he can swing getting Mama Medda (the President of their chapter) to let a kid in as long as they have Race’s skills.

Upon arriving back at home, Race gets a phone call from Spot Conlon who asks him out on a date.

And everything is going just swimmingly.

At least, for now.

This was a fun one. Happy Halloween, ya’ll!

#newsies #newsies live #newsies musical #newsies au #newsies rp #a babysitters guide to monster hunting #racetrack higgins #jack kelly #katherine plumber #david jacobs #albert dasilva #baby romeo #romeo newsies #jojo de la guerra #spot conlon #obadiah wiesel #grand guignol #nightmares #modern au #modern era #angst #crutchie morris #monster hunter #anonymous #anon #anon request #hannah newsies #nightmare realm #modern newsies

[sparklyaxolotlstudent]

I got bored inspired today and decided to wite the Wackynette Story of “HawkMoth is” where Marinette does a presentation about why and how Lila is secretly Hawk Moth (Her assignment was to do tabloid news)

Also got inspired by @Rarity36 comic about the same thing, thank you!

semi salt, but not really.

-

Hawk Moth Is…

Or the Dangers of Assigning a Tabloid Report to Very Smart Students

The day started ordinary for the Class of Miss Bustier. Today lesson was on News and how they can be shared. To make the lesson a bit more fun, after they had covered all of them, the teacher had decided to assign each pair of student to investigate a current event and make a presentation in the style of said event. Lila immediately asked Alya to be her partner.

“Oh, we can dress up as journalists and make our presentation as something worth of a Newspaper!”

“But Miss Bustier” asked Marinette spoke up. “There are 15 of us, and the assignment is on pairs… one of us will be left on its own”

“Oh, don’t worry Marinette, I’m sure whoever that is can make a wonderful job on their own!” replied Lila with fake sweetness. Of course that with her claiming Alya, it was highly likely that Marinette would be left on her own. Marinette just glared at her. “Don’t get mad at me, I’m only joking!” Lila added with more fake sweetness. Alya giggled.

“I’ll be sure to make things fair. For starters, I’m making the pairs” she looked around the class, who groaned. “And I’m also assigning what kind of media will each do”

Miss Bustier took a small glass bowl from under her desk, along with a hat; both seemed to be filled with papers.

“Now, I’m going to take out your names from this bowl to make the pairs so everything is fair. No changes or substitutions are allowed, all pairs are final” she grabbed the hat. “And this hat has all the different media we saw, to make everything fair, it will be also random”

Marinette was one of the last chosen, and she was paired with Juleka, to work on a tabloid. Lila snickered, and Alya gave Marinette her condolences for having to work on “fake news”

At the end, only Adrien, Lila and Chloe were unpaired. Marinette felt a bit bad for hoping that Adrien would be on his own, but then a Christmas Miracle happened…

“Only three people…” Miss Bustier took one of the papers left “Adrien with” Marinette held her breath, as did the other two girls. “Huh… Markov? I don’t remember putting his name here…”

“No charges or substitutions allowed, all pairs are final” Markov played a recording of Miss Bustier. She just shrugged.

“Well, I did say that. Adrien, you’re with Markov. Lila and Chloe, you’re the last pair”

The two girls looked at each other, mouths agape. Even with Markov lacking a face, they could swear he was grinning at them.

“Good luck on your presentation” called Marinette to Lila and Chloe after the day was over.

Working with Juleka was a blast, even without taking in account that they also worked on her room, which meant Luka was present sometimes. They actually came to the realization that working on a tabloid would be easier than what their classmates had gotten, as it meant that they would only need to think on something current, and then lie their asses off in a sensationalistic way.

So of course they choose the most unbelievable thing they could, and went from there.

-

The day of the presentation came, with Chloe and Lila presenting something worth of a news show, and that was obviously made by professionals that Chloe’s dad paid. However, they forgot to cite their sources, so Miss Bustier had to take off some points of their grade.

“Marinette and Juleka are next, their theme is a tabloid”

The two girls stood up from their respective seats. Like Chloe and Lila before them, they were dressed in pantsuits that no doubt Marinette had designed, Juleka with her a dark purple that almost seemed black, with a textured fabric that looked like giant feathers, Marinette with a soft pink one that it took the others a double take to realize the blazer was simulating a skirt. Even Chloe seemed impressed.

“Yes, yes. Hello everyone, as you know, the Tabloid is a type of newspaper that is smaller, and covers more sensationalistic stories, celebrity gossip and such, most of their stories are dubious or outright fake.”

“They are famous in the states for reporting Bigfoot and UFOS, for example”

“So today, our news is the most unbelievable thing we could think of!”

Marinette pressed a button on her tablet, and the screen behind them appeared, it looked like the cover of a tabloid, with sensationalistic views talking about monster sightings, Andre the Ice cream man being secretly a spy, Luka being a vampire and other nonsense the girls could think of. The biggest font and the main news red “We discovered the identity of Hawk Moth!!!!”

“First of all, we want to thank Nathaniel for taking time of his own project to help us with the illustrations for ours”

“You’re welcome!” said the boy, who was also wearing a dark red suit, also designed by Marinette. Kim, his partner, was equally dressed, with his vest and pants being a weird shade of brown.

“Without further ado…”

“EXTRA, EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!” yelled both girl at the same time. Marinette pressed the tablet again, and the screen changed.

“Exclusive news, ladies and gentlemen! We have discovered the identity of Paris Number One Criminal! The one and only Hawk Moth!” Juleka said quickly in an excitable voice that everyone found uncharacteristically of her. Miss Bustier smiled, knowing that Marinette was being a good example for her.  Everyone gasped, forgetting it was tabloid news.

The next screen had a very cool illustration of someone transforming into Hawk Moth. Everyone immediately knew who it was meant to be.

“WHAT? Marinette!” Alya protested, surprising no one. Except maybe Lila. “That is slander! There is no way Lila is Hawk Moth!” she turned to their teacher. “Miss Bustier, you can’t possibly allow Marinette to continue!”

“Actually, it was my idea” said Juleka, much more meekly than before. Miss Bustier frowned and looked sternly at Alya.

“We are supposed to do a tabloid, so of course we are doing something bogus and ridiculous. Besides, Lila knows we are only joking” Marinette winked at the rest of the class, who all laughed making Lila furious

“They are right. Statistically speaking, tabloid news are very likely to be fake news, or greatly exaggerated ones.”

“Thank you Max” said Miss Bustier. “Girls, you may continue with your presentation”

“Thanks!” Marinette pressed another button, and it was Lila as Volpina. “As we all know, Lila was akumatized the first day she started class with us, and…”

“That proves she’s not Hawk Moth! She can’t be akumatized and be hawk moth at the same time!” Alya practically jumped out of her seat. Miss Bustier looked at her disappointed. Marinette looked at her, but ignored her comment.

“As we all know, the power of Volpina dealt with Illusions, and one of her illusions was, precisely, that of Hawk Moth appearing in plain sight”

“Now, you are wondering, why is that important?” several classmates nodded. “Because up to that point, we had only seen Hawk Moth’s head made of butterflies back on the Stone Heart incident, and we didn’t see the actual Hawk Moth until much later, on Heroes day” Marinette pressed a button, and an image of the head of Hawk Moth made of butterflies appeared, along with a blurry picture of hawk moth the day of Volpina, and another higher quality picture of Heroes Day, everything with their respective credits.

“So, I ask, how did Lila, AKA Volpina know how Hawk Moth looked, when no one else did?”

The class breaks in whispers. They seem to forget again that it is supposed to be fake news.

“But Hawk Moth is a guy! An adult man!”

“All the better to cover herself by pretending her alter ego to be of other gender and age. Something she can do as Volpina”

“And speaking of Volpina… do you know where she took that name from?” Most of the class shook their head. “Well, interesting fact! Adrien Abigail Agreste…”

“Please don’t use my middle name”

“Duly noted. Adrien Agreste brought a book from home the same day that Lila appeared…”

“Oh, and what did that book contained?”

“Excellent question Juleka! The book contained information on the Miraculous and their past holders, and it was actually the property of Adrien’s father, Mister Gabriel Abigail Agreste”

Adrien just head desked.

“And Lila grabbed the book for inspection. Adrien almost caught her, so she just threw the book on the thrash”

“That makes no sense, how would I know what it contained? Heck, how do you know?” Alya did notice that Lila had not denied that she had taken the book.

“My house is in front of the park. I saw you guys and thought I would approach and say hi.”

“Didn’t you say you were eavesdropping?”

“They were talking when I approached them, so technically, yeah.”

“Wait… you recovered the book from the thrash? You were the one to return it to my father?”

Marinette blushed a deep shade.

“What? You mean that part is real? Dupain-Cheng is the reason you returned to school?”

“Well, I’m not saying Lila did took my father’s book, but it disappeared after she showed interest in it”

“I can’t believe you’re accusing me of…”

“We’re not, this is a tabloid, remember?”

“And continuing, Lila going abroad after that…”

“AHA! If Lila wasn’t here, it means she couldn’t have attacked! Seh was too far away!” Alya again almost jumped from her seat.

“I would like to remind everyone that we all went to space thanks to an akuma”

“Swimming in space was the best”

“So, Lila going abroad and then returning coincides with the appearance of Mayura, which can only mean that she went to search for the Peacock Miraculous”

“Right and I’m Mayura too?”

“That’s info for another article”

Kim raised his hand.

“We’re not making another article”

Kim lowered his hand, disappointed.

“So, like we were saying, it’s highly suspicious that Lila joined the class with a 90% akumatization rate”

“Actually, it’s 87.5% akumatization rate if we count Miss Bustier”

“We counted the doubles”

“Ah”

“Why would someone join the Akuma Class, if not for gain intel about how to get more akumas”

“Not to mention the other teachers and students that have been akumatized too. Our school is a focal point for akumas… almost like the akumas came from inside the school!”

Everyone went quiet, looking at Lila with dread. Even if Marinette and Juleka were joking, they were raising very fair points. Lila seemed to be contemplating this.

“And we all have been akumatized at one time or another.” Juleka eyed Marinette. “Well, most of us. And some of us have witnessed other people becoming akumas. A common thread is that Hawk Moth knows exactly what the person wants due to his empathy powers. And Lila is a good friend who always knows what to say to make us feel better. Coincidence? Or an innate ability granted by her miraculous?!”

Lila was wide eyed looking at the two in the front. Everyone else was whispering again.

“Of course, one of the most common symptoms post akumatization is the loss of memory of what one does as an akuma. So it stands to reason that Lila might not know that she is, in fact, Hawk Moth, especially if she akumatizes herself each time so Hawk Moth takes over"

“Any questions?”

Literally everyone raised their hand. Even Miss Bustier and Markov, despite him not having hands.

“Great! That concludes our presentation.”

“Excellent job girls, you get full marks!”

Marinette and Juleka high fived each other, and went to take their respective seats. Everyone kept staring at Lila. Nathaniel slided away from Lila so much he actually fell from his seat, landing on his butt. Lila was staring at her feet, having a bit of an existential crisis

“Adrien and Markov, you’re next”

#miraculous ladybug #ml au #ml fic #ml oneshot #Hawk Moth is #Lila Rossi #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Juleka Couffaine #Wackynette

[thestraggletag]

Creature Instincts

A/N: Surprise, @nerdrumple! It is I, your Super Secret Santa that somehow managed to REMAIN super secret! I’m always stoked when that happens. It’s been loads of fun being your Santa, and it was super nice to write fic for someone who was written some of my favourite Rumbelle fics. Hope you like it!

Prompt: Locked-out, torrential downpour, hold.

Summary: Mr Gold cannot be accused of being a knight in shining armour, but when Belle French becomes a damsel in distress he cannot help to try and play the role, in spite of how ill-suited his nature makes him.

Rating: R for sure. There be sexy sex here, kids.

It was a relief to finally be home, after what felt like the longest day in the month. Rent day usually was, as it kept him out and about town all day, both collecting from those who reluctantly but diligently paid on time and those who thought they could evade him and thus get a reprieve. Very few chose alternative means of payment, and he was sure it was in part because most people enjoyed the notion of making him work for their rent money.

He looked up just before he closed his front door, noticing the grey, fat clouds that he had been running from most of the day. The air already smelled like rain, which for him meant hell on his ankle. That, coupled with the freezing temperature, had him more than happy for the comforts of his home.

His housekeeper had left the house warm and dry, as per his usual instructions, and for a moment or two he paused on the entryway, dropping his keys onto the bowl by the side table and simply enjoying the warmth as it seeped into his skin. Though he was used to the cold- and, to a certain extent, he enjoyed it- he could not deny he was a creature better suited for heat. 

Methodically, the motions so familiar that they were almost automatic, he shed his outer layers. First his thick wool coat, a shade of charcoal grey so dark most people thought it was black, and his red cashmere scarf. Then off came the gloves, suit jacket and vest. He took off his tie next, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt before removing his vest and reaching for his banyan, the damask silk showing a pattern of thistles in bloom. He limped upstairs to exchange his suit trousers and Oxfords for woollen lounge pants and thicker knit socks and loafers. 

It felt heavenly to be out of his customary suit and into more comfortable clothing, warm and dry in his home as the first drops of rain began to splash against the windows. He flexed his fingers, his elongated nails still a bit uncomfortable from having to wear gloves all day. As he filled the kettle with water for his tea he felt the scales on his neck ripple and begin to unfurl. It was the most unpleasant part of rent day, how he had to hide all day. It made him itchy and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t a duty his nature would allow for him to delegate on others. 

As he waited for the water to boil he switched on the tablet he had left on the island, having read the paper on it in the morning. In spite of his claws it was easy for him to navigate around the display and hit the green facetime button, locating and clicking on the desired contact immediately.

“Hey, pop!”

Baden’s gruffy face appeared on the screen, hair a bit wild and beard looking like it could use a trim. ‘Fashionably scruffy’, he called it. Since he had accepted a video call he deduced Emma was not home yet. He had remembered correctly about her extra shift, then.

“Hi, son. How’s life in the big city?”

He moved around the kitchen as Bae filled him in on any news, mainly talking about Henry’s latest antics and his newest clients. He was a bit of a hot-shot graphic designer, much sought after. 

“And how’s life in Storybrooke, dad? Still keeping that cavernous Queen Anne, I see. That’s too much house for yourself, pop.”

“It’s not just for me. It’s also for you, Henry and Emma. For when you visit.”

Bae rolled his eyes.

“We only stay over a few weeks every year. What about the rest of the time, pop? Don’t you get lonely?”

It was an old worry of Bae’s, one he tried hard to scoff away every time he brought it up. His son seemed to give up rather easily, asking instead after his hoard.

“Which one do you mean?”

He had several, of course. It was, after all, part of his nature.

“All of them. It’s been a while since I’ve received a full report.”

“Well, the property portfolio is looking good. Market’s been appreciating, as expected given the development of the town. I attended three very productive state sales, so the antiques are looking good. Might even be able to part with one or two of my previously not-for-sale vases. I’ve also managed to find a treasure-trove of jewellery. Owner inherited them from his mother, thought they were costume pieces. I could smell right away he was wrong.”

He smiled, feeling the scales around his neck flash in and out of sight, a golden glint in his eyes, a sure sign he was pleased. The pieces would be a joy to restore and clean, and the thought of how they would shine brought a smile to his face.

“God, you’re such a stereotype sometimes.” Bae shook his head. “Aaaand… how’s the library? Any progress on that front?”

The younger man tried not to waggle his eyebrows suggestively, going for a light-hearted tone as he monitored his father’s reaction. There was no mistaking the way his scales flared up around his neck, as if fluffing up, turning a darker shade of gold than what was usual. It was a minute reaction, there one moment and gone the next, but it was a very telling one, especially for someone as experienced in things as Bae was.

“N-no, not really. Regina, she’s being… unreasonable. Stubborn. It’s a bad year to acquire real estate, in any case, what with the-”

“And how’s the librarian, pop?”

There was a bigger ripple then, crossing the entirety of his face, scales turning so dark they almost looked black. The younger man snickered, trying to be subtle about it. 

“Be- Miss French is fine. And none of your concern, boy.”

“Did she recover from that nasty fall the other day?”

Bae tried to valiantly pretend he didn’t notice her father flex his claws unconsciously, and he studiously kept his mouth shut about the glazed look in his eyes too. He had been thrilled when his father first started to mention the woman, over a year ago. A new addition to Storybrooke, at the time, and a sore spot for his father, who had fought to acquire the library only to have Regina insist on reopening it instead, just to spite him. Miss French was, at first, an unwitting pawn of the mayor, but later grew to be a nuisance in her own right. Always fighting with his pop over city funds, organising “noisy library events” that disturbed him while he restored some antique or the other at his shop and absolutely refusing to cower before him like everyone else in town. 

At some point he had begun to catch on to the fact that his father was constantly mentioning the librarian, and it wasn’t always to deliver the scathing insults he likely thought he was dishing out. He called her “obnoxiously sweet” and rambled on and on about how she thought she could get anything by batting her long lashes and speaking in her lilting Australian drawl. He had had to endure entire conversations where he talked at length about a five minute exchange between them, to the point that even little Henry had cottoned on to the fact that his grandpa had a crush. 

He denied it, of course. Dismissed every single one of Bae’s attempts at discussing the matter and even made a conscious effort to try and stop mentioning Belle French. Didn’t exactly work out all that much, though. Specially after a close encounter, like last week, when his father managed to barge into the library, intending on getting some very urgent books and getting out with as minimal human interaction as possible, only to unwittingly catch the librarian as one of her too-high heels slipped from the step she was perched on and she tumbled off the ladder. His father had called him that night with a dazed look on his face, the pupils of his eyes blown wide as he recounted the event, his scales rippling out completely. Bae knew that look, though he had only seen his father direct it at objects before. A covetous look, possessive. 

He understood then why his father was reluctant to even admit to a crush, much less something more serious. It was easy, and dangerous, for his natural tendency towards greed to permeate his relationships with humans, which meant he made a conscious effort to keep people at bay, not only because he could not trust people with his secret but also because he could not trust himself to form attachments that were acceptable to humans, that would not lead to them feeling suffocated and imprisoned.

It had been a point of contention between him and his pop, he could not deny it, back when the issue of college had come up. It had led to heated debates and pleas from his father that he was trying, he was doing his best to let go, but it was hard in a way Bae would never understand. He cringed every time he remembered what he had said in anger.

“Right, because I’m not like you. I’m not your son.”

It had been, until then, an unspoken truth they both knew. That Bae was not biologically his. A hard thing to ignore, taking into account their different nature. It had taken time and effort for him to believe his pop when he said he was his son in any way that mattered. Which, of course, had eventually led to the growing pains of their eventual separation, and his father learning to deal with parting with something he held dear. As much as it had been a chore it had truly helped alleviate some of Bae’s still-latent fears about his father’s affection.

“Miss French is fine, your suspicious concern over her is misplaced.”

Bae, blessedly, let the matter drop, and the conversation was turned instead to Henry’s latest passion, now that his dinosaur phase was fully behind him. By the time they hung up he was already elbow-deep into dinner preparations- heating up a beef stew he had prepared last night. Most of his neck and face were showing scales, as were his arms and hands. Once upon a time, when he’d been young, he had not been able to keep his true form hidden for more than a couple of hours, and it required all of his concentration. It had meant living in the gutter while out on the streets and keeping to shadowy corners and dark alleyways. After his aunties had taken him in it had meant being homeschooled, and dedicating a great portion of his waking hours practising keeping pink, soft skin and dull, brown eyes. Now he could hardly recall ever having such little control, but he still found it uncomfortable and painful to keep up the facade for long periods of time, particularly when his emotions were running high. And though that was not usually the case rent day did like to try his patience. That’s usually why after rent day he prepared himself something full of meat and drank a bottle of a nice red of his choice while enjoying a book or a movie. He had a documentary set up for later that night, a riveting two-hour exploration of traditional kimono-making in Japan. He’d been looking forward to it for weeks.

Just as he was about to heat up dinner there was a knock on the door. His eyes flashed in displeasure before he shook himself in an effort to try to dispel the scales, hide them under whatever bit of skin he could conjure up. He was tired, hungry and not in the mood for anything other than the barest form of human interaction. With that in mind he put on his fiercest scold, shuffled to the door and opened it wide, ready to make whoever was on the other side regret being born.

“Oh, Mr Gold, you’re home!”

The Australian drawl was unmistakable, and it stopped him from actually verbalizing the genteel-yet-direct death threat he’d conjured up in his head a second earlier. Belle French was, indeed, on his front porch, shivering in her drenched peacoat, tights and boots, hair plastered to her face and eyes wide, wary. It was a look he often saw in most of the townspeople when they looked at him, but he’d never seen it before in Miss French. Afraid of nothing, she’d seemed to be, even an old dragon such as himself.

“Miss French, what on Earth are you doing out at this hour and in this weather?”

It didn’t even cross his mind to demand to know why she had knocked on his front door at all.

“Well, I was out in the woods, helping Dr Hopper get a hold of Pongo- you know how he likes to chase rabbits sometimes- and on my way home I realised I had forgotten my keys. I was about to call Ruby, who has the spare set, but I remembered she was out of town on a date. She would totally come if I call her but she’s been so looking forward to her first date with Dorothy that it would be a shame to interrupt her. I was gonna walk over to Granny’s when it started raining and I saw the light on at your house and thought perhaps I could come in and wait it out a little?”

She spoke in a rushed voice, teeth chattering and trying to look as if she wasn’t freezing to death. Her lips were tinged with blue, and her skin looked pale, almost translucent, in the dim light of his porch. He was about to awkwardly invite her in- perhaps to offer her a cup of tea and a ride home- when a bolt of lightning split the sky, followed a second later by a crack of thunder. In the blink of an eye she was in his arms, trembling like a leaf and holding onto the lapels of his banyan. He struggled to contain his reaction, to keep his human mask in check even as he registered how soft she was, and how she smelt like burnt caramel and vanilla, something he had only once managed to scent before, when she had fallen in the library.

“Miss French?”

He counted himself lucky that his voice, though hoarse and thick, still sounded distinctively human, and that he could talk without breathing out too much smoke. It was all about the small victories.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Gold, it’s just that… Well, I have this thing about thunder…”

By the time she detached herself from him, mouth curved in a tremulous smile, he was fully in control of himself, and also completely aware that he would not be able to keep his cool when Bae mentioned the librarian during their next call.

“Completely understandable, Miss French. I detest the rain myself. Do come in, you’re drenched.”

He ushered her in, letting her linger in the foyer, removing her coat and shoes while he looked for a towel in the linen closet next to the laundry. She wrapped it around herself, following him into the kitchen, self-conscious about dripping water on his hardwood floors. 

“Let me fix you a cup of tea. You need some warmth in you.”

The process of preparing a cup of tea was familiar and comforting enough to help quell the last bit of nerves at the idea of Belle French in his home, his lair, where all his hoarded treasure was. His finest antiques, lovingly restored to perfection, his favourite pieces of art, his most prized objects. The house itself was part of his hoard, the antique Queen Anne outfitted with beautiful crown moldings and other unique details. 

The moment he started to crave something he imagined how it would fit in his home, where he would place the object, and whether it would look right amidst his already established hoard. So he had pointedly and purposefully avoided even the briefest daydream of Belle French inside his home. Hadn’t allowed himself to entertain the idea at all, knowing that way lay madness. He had been right, of course, and it was patently obvious as he snuck glances at Belle, perched atop one of the stools surrounding his kitchen isle. The familiar itch, to take and keep, travelled down his spine, making his fingers twitch and almost causing him to spill scalding water all over himself. Wouldn’t have done any actual damage, but he would’ve had to pretend to be hurt, and he could not trust himself to do a good job of it at the moment. 

She took the cup from him with a grateful smile and he watched her as she poured a teaspoon of honey into it, leaving the milk and sugar untouched. He secreted the information away, as useless to him as it was precious. It spoke of a certain domestic intimacy that he found himself covetting deeply. To be expected, given his nature. He remembered doing the same with Bae, tucking away the bits and pieces of useless trivia that most people would not find valuable or interesting, but that few people would ever get to know about Bae, like how he liked to take hour-long showers and disliked chunky peanut butter.

“This orange blossom honey is lovely. Can’t say I’ve seen it at the local store.”

He got it from New York, from a specialised tea store Bae had taken him to a few years back.

“It pairs well with Earl Grey.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to promise her a case full of the stuff, but he pushed to sudden urge down, unhappy with that line of thought. It was common for him to shower those he had an interest in with things they might take a fancy too. It was in his nature, but he had learnt to curve the impulse, to a certain extent- Bae’s epic comic book collection being his last big failure. It did help that he tended to care about very few people, partly as a sort of defence mechanism. Clearly it wasn’t working as well, given that Belle French had managed to capture him so.

“I’m so grateful for your hospitality, but I see I’ve caught you in the middle of dinner preparations. I don’t wish to bother Ruby on her date, but I’m sure Granny would let me wait for her at the diner. I’ll call Leroy, he’ll give me a ride there.”

His relief at the perspective of being left alone, free to finally shift into a more comfortable form in peace, battled with the surprising cold wash of disappointment at the idea that she’d be gone in a matter of minutes. He was about to offer to drive her himself- Leroy’s truck, after all, was hardly a reliable method of transportation, when the lights flickered once, twice, and then went out completely.

“Oh, bugger.”

He counted to ten before he heard the generator kick in, the lights coming back on. He looked out the kitchen window, realising there were no streetlights. Everything was pitch black outside, obscured further by the heavy rain. Certainly not the ideal conditions for driving.

“Is it that bad?”

He startled, having not realised Miss French had made her way to the window as well, close enough to be uncomfortably thrilling. He saw her biting her lip, obviously realising that calling anyone for a ride was out of the question but unwilling to impose herself on him any further.

“Certainly no weather to be driving in. I must insist you stay until the lights come back on or the rain lets up enough.”

The sheer dread at the idea of having to maintain his human appearance mixed with the heady excitement of having Belle French in his home for an extended period of time. It made him both nauseated and exhilarated, a rather unsettling combination.

The sheer relief in her face settled his mood somewhat. While he ushered her into the downstairs bathroom and went to look for clothes that could fit her- there was no question of her staying in her wet things- he gave himself a pep talk, attempting to bolster his confidence. He was an old creature, he had certainly endured high-stress situations where he had managed to hold on to his control for longer. He could certainly make it through an evening with Belle French without giving himself away.

By the time he had dinner ready he was fully convinced of the success of the evening. He focused on filling two bowls, trying not to linger on the fact that he had chosen to use his Royal Warwick dinnerware set, the stew looking a bit plain surrounded by the fanciful rose designs of traditional Scottish landscapes. 

“Oh, that smells heavenly.”

He turned around, sheer instinct keeping him from dropping the plates in his hands at the sight of Belle fucking French wearing one of his shirts- why had he picked his favourite deep blue one?- and a pair of tights, his already oversized cashmere cardigan practically drowning her, making her look small and frail. He should have known, should have tried to contemplate the reaction he might have to someone he craved dressed in things he owned, things full of his scent. 

“Oh, let me help with that.”

She took the plates out of his hands, being nice enough not to comment on the absolutely idiotic look on his face. He gestured for her to skip his rather ornate dining room table, ushering her instead to the living room. There was a couch and a divan facing a coffee table, as well as a large carved armoire that hid a flat screen TV. To the side there was a fireplace, which he had been quick to light while Belle had been in the bathroom, unwilling to have to pretend to make fire the human way. 

“It costs too much to heat the house, so it’s best to resort to more traditional methods and save the generator for the rest. There isn’t a fireplace in the dining room, so I thought we’d be more comfortable here.”

He settled on one side of the couch, leaving the one closest to the fire for her. She still looked somewhat chilled, even though her lips had lost their blue tint and her cheeks were looking decidedly rosier. He gathered a throw from the nearby divan and wordlessly left it near her, trying not to preen in scaly satisfaction when he saw her unfurl the fabric over her feet, generously leaving half of it for his use. He wouldn’t presume to take her up on her offer, but it was a kind gesture nonetheless. Wordlessly he went to pick a nice bottle of Malbec and a couple of glasses, feeling that as risky as the alcohol was for his self-control it would help his nerves and help him warm up till the fire could properly heat the room. Belle accepted her glass with a charming smile, making a pleased hum with the first sip that had him slapping a hand against the raised scales on the side of his neck. 

They ate in companionable silence, broken by small comments from Belle about the stew- Guinness and beef, a personal favourite of his, with a smokey touch of bacon for added flavour- and questions about the many antiques he had sprinkled around. There was little rhyme or reason to his collection, aside from the price tag assigned to each piece, but just because something was considered expensive did not mean it caught his fancy enough to wish to keep it. 

“It’s like me and shoes. I adore them, but not every gorgeous pair of Louboutins I see catch my fancy.”

He had noticed her extensive shoe collection. At first because they were obviously expensive and he could smell it but later because they became a central quirk of Belle he wanted to learn more of. It had always bothered him, on the back of his mind, like an itch, the thought of how she paid for them. Her clothing was fine but either second-handed or from outlet stores, and everything else about her spoke of frugality. Her shoes, on the other hand, were decadent, and not just because of how they made her legs look. Her stockings too, always silk and never nylon. Very expensive, all around. Too expensive for a librarian.

“You’re right.” He flushed, realising he had said the last part out loud. “My other passion is books. I have… so many books. They quietly take over every living space I’ve ever had. I was raised by my dad, who was a florist, so there was never a lot of money for books. I became used to buying books in thrift stores and second-hand bookstores. And I discovered from a young age that I have a nose for rare books. Books that may not look valuable but are. So I’ve been able to turn my hobby into a profitable source of income. I keep a few rare editions that I like, but I am fonder of turning one book into ten than hoarding just the one book. So I sell them and buy books, shoes and occasionally some nice lingerie.”

He choked on what had been a nice sip of Catena Zapata, the alcohol burning his nostrils in an altogether different sensation to the usual one. He blessed the low light for hiding the way his fingers turned distinctively claw-like, unable to hold the illusion of soft pink fingers. He covered his shaky right hand with his left, which looked a wee bit better.

Thankfully Miss French was not looking at him, having apparently also realised what she had said. Both her hands were over her mouth, her eyes wide as she looked at her own glass of wine- the third one, if he was remembering correctly- in a faintly-accusatory manner.

“In my defence that’s the yummiest wine I’ve ever tasted.”

He shouldn’t have found the word “yummy” erotic, but there was something about Belle French’s accent wrapping around the word and the images it conjured that… distracted him.

“Yeah, well… Argies don’t fuck around with Malbec.”

He thought for a second he might have come off as pretentious, but Belle laughed, the tension from her shopping confession fading away as she turned her attention back to the stew.

“These are beautiful plates, by the way. Lovely pattern, and they have a weight to them that’s very pleasant.”

He cradled his own empty bowl protectively.

“Yes, well, they aren’t exactly the finest china. My aunties had part of the set, my Auntie Isla bought it for my Auntie Wyn for their tenth anniversary. After they died I spent many years completing the set, something they had always talked about doing.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Belle smile.

“My mom loved Victoria Holt books. It was one of the few things my father ever told me about her. Gave me her small collection and I set out to find the ones that were missing. I’m still missing a few she wrote under different aliases, but I got a few leads I’m hoping pan out. I get the impulse.”

The comment gave him pause, a spark of something flickering on the edges of his brain. But he pushed it aside, busying himself with picking up the plates and taking them to the kitchen, if only to give his overworked control a bit of a break. He was practically itching all over, skin buzzing in a way that was partly due to exhaustion and partly excitement. The creature in him was dying to claw its way out, desirous to wrap itself snug around Belle French and keep her there. The dragon had always taken an interest in her, before the man, even. Had scented her even before he’d ever laid eyes on her. But he hadn’t much noticed the fixation till he himself had begun to notice Miss French. The creature had rumbled in approval, practically gleeful, and since then he’d had to fight his own growing attraction to the librarian and whatever other baser instincts his nature brought about. Now, in the safety of its lair, with the object of its fixation surrounded by the carefully chosen objects of its hoard, the creature roared to be let out, and he was afraid to even consider what for. Nothing wholesome, certainly.

Debating on whether more wine would damper his instincts or his remaining common sense he picked up another bottle of Malbec- Achával Ferrer this time- and a box of chocolate truffles he had been saving for rent day specifically. No reason why he couldn’t share a few, it was the hospitable thing to do.

He tried not to preen when he heard Belle’s pleased hum at the sight of the chocolate and the wine, turning his head just so to hide the darkening of his scales around his ears, a blush-like response. 

“I checked outside and things seem to be much the same, so I texted Emma, who’s been in touch with the electric company as the town sheriff. Power’s supposed to be sorted out in a couple of hours, though she didn’t sound like she fully believed it.”

Well, fuck. Two fucking hours? He wouldn’t make it. He already felt like he was about to spontaneously combust, his grasp of his human self paper thin at best. On the other hand sending Miss French out into the darkness of the night, while it rained, was out of the question. And the evening, so far, was so… pleasant. Intimate and soft and everything he had been denying himself but had secretly desired for the longest time. There was a kinship building. Miss French made him feel nervous, yes, and tightly-wound, but also, at the same time, at ease. Safe.

“Would you be interested in watching a documentary about kimono making?”

He could not imagine posing such a question to anyone else with an honest expectation of interest. Even Bae, whom he loved and who loved him in return, would at best politely decline.

“Sounds amazing. Count me in.”

The documentary was riveting for its careful and thorough exploration of Japanese craftsmanship, with an emphasis on the dying and printing of the kimonos as well as the differences in kimono styles depending on age, marital status and time of the year. Not that Gold was paying attention to any of it, as much as it all seemed right up his alley. Somehow, during the first ten minutes of the documentary- the only ones he would later be able to recall- they had drifted closer in the couch, with Belle eventually resting her head against his shoulder, cuddling close for warmth and comfort.

The warmth he could agree with, the comfort was more of a relative thing. As good as the weight and feel of Belle was against his side- human contact was a luxury for him- it made the itch all the more unbearable, and halfway through a fascinating scene about the process of stamping patterns into kimono fabrics he felt the scales around his neck and hands unfurl completely, resisting any and all attempt to retract. He had to console himself with the fact that the only light in the room was coming from the now dwindling fire, and that the high collar of his banyan and the cashmere throw around their laps was covering most of him. Surely as long as he did not call attention to the changes they would not be all that visible.

He almost had a heart attack when he felt the tip of Belle’s nose brush against the side of his neck. She had to feel it, the decidedly non-human texture, the slight roughness of the scales, but she made no comment, which left him free to pause his relentless anxiety about her discovering his nature and give free reign to his relentless anxiety at her close proximity. She smelled… divinely, and the feel of her made his heart drop to the pit of his stomach in a way that felt too good. It was nerve-wracking in a toe-curling sort of well he seldom experienced and he was shocked at how good it felt, considering how much he liked always being in control of any given situation. Growing up the way he had had forced him to toughen up, learn to be the predator instead of the prey. He had spent years growing into his nature, so to speak, learning to both control and embrace the creature that he was to the point that there was little that could perturb him. Not Mayor Mills, with all her power over the town, not some of the bigger, stronger people who rented from him and thought at first that they could push around their smaller, older landlord and not the ruthless business sharks he made deals with day in and day out. And yet one small, unassuming woman could bring him to his knees. It was irrational. It was worrisome. It was-

Arousing.

Next to him Belle moved, standing up and stretching languidly. He looked at the television, noticing the screen was back to the USB menu.

“That was a lovely documentary, made me feel like I was right there in Japan, soaking in the culture and the air. It’s why I love documentaries, they allow me to travel on a budget, so to speak.”

She moved around the room slowly, tentatively reaching out to touch a figurine or explore a paperweight. 

“You know, I’ve always wanted to go to your shop, for the same reason. You seem to have so many fascinating things. But your hours are the same as the library’s, so I haven’t had any luck.”

He told himself he was imagining the flirty tone in her voice, surely her accent was just so pretty everything sounded that way.

“I didn’t know you brought your work home so much, Mr Gold.” Rowan, he thought, call me Rowan. “Where’s this figurine from?”

She lightly touched the top of a Lladro figurine depicting a ballerina stretching before practice. Haltingly, he told her the story behind it, how he had found it at a yard sale for five bucks, sold by the greedy sons of a once-wealthy widow that had died a couple of days before. The whelps hadn’t waited till the funeral to try and get their money’s worth out of their inheritance. The figurine was worth just shy of five hundred dollars, in today’s market.

“What a thrill it must have been, to snatch up such a price.”

Yes, the creature inside him whispered, seemingly thinking less about the little ballerina and more about the flesh-and-blood woman in front of them. He closed his eyes, but it only made the scent of her more prominent in his mind. This was utter madness.

“What about this one?”

They spent what felt like hours in such a way, Belle pointing at several objects that caught her fancy and God struggling to somehow relate their story while attempting to ignore how she practically fondled his hoard. The creature did not take its eyes off her, utterly entranced. The fierce dragon captured by the fair maiden, a modern twist to the story. Every now and then she’d find something she particularly enjoyed and she would hum or make low approving noises, which was slowly but surely making him go mad.

He stood up on shaky legs, going over to the fireplace supposedly to add a log and stoke the fire. In reality he was trying to stop staring at her, in the vague hope that it would bring him some semblance of control.

“You have a beautiful home, Mr Gold. So big, and so full of things.” She sounded closer than he expected. “But so empty of people. It feels a bit… lonely.”

He could see her in his peripheral vision, but kept his head low and eyes on the fire, which allowed his hair to hide his face. Otherwise she would surely notice the deep gold-green scales around his eyes, and the unnatural glow of his irises. 

“Yes, well… I’m a difficult man to love.”

He hoped she would attribute the strange hoarseness of his voice to his thickened accent. He thought about Milah, and Cora, and the other handful of women he’d ever been with, thought about how careful he had had to be to avoid hurting them, how unsatisfied they had been by what they considered his complete lack of passion. That, more than protecting his secret, had made him swear off human contact and affection. It never paid off in the end, and he wasn’t willing to put himself out there for little to no reward.

“Doesn’t feel that way to me.”

He turned his head slightly to find her looking at him from beneath her lashes. The scent of her seemed stronger and sweeter and that, along with the soothing warmth of the fire, was making it hard to think. The creature inside him was urging him to take. Just one kiss, one fleeting brush of the lips, one small taste. And, surely, he had followed that impulse before. If it gave it something to treasure, however little, it might quiet down. There was no harm in just a kiss.

He moved quickly, swallowing the sound of surprise Belle made as his lips slanted across hers with more pressure than he intended. Relief and arousal raced down his spine, urging him to pull her closer, to bury himself completely in her. Idly, as he cupped the back of her head and tilted her head just so, he wondered how he had been able to resist for so long, and why. It seemed both impossible and pointless now, with Belle’s fingers sinking into his hair, pulling at the strands in a way that he did not know until then he found arousing.

Belle was surprisingly strong, and delightfully feisty. She seemed determined to get boss him around with tugs on his hair and his arms, her hands shoving at his shoulders until he was sitting down on the couch- how had they moved there?- and he had a lapful of librarian. The creature was playfully competitive, encouraging him to roughhouse, to nip and bite and wrestle for control. It was nothing like any of his previous sexual encounters, there was some sort of animalistic, playfully violent aspect to it that was foreign to him but felt familiar somehow, instinctual. He tried, between toe-curling brushes of Belle’s tongue against his, to remember how soft and fragile she was. Human and therefore delicate. He needed to be careful, needed to get a hold of himself and go slow, and soft and-

‘Fuck, did she just bite me?’

He growled in warning when she tried to rip his banyan open, wrestling to trap her arms against her sides and tumbling out of the couch and into the shaggy rug in front of the fire. Beneath him Belle chuckled, a low, deep sound that went straight to his cock. Fuck, but she was perfect, writhing beneath him, fighting to regain the upper hand even as she attacked his neck with her mouth, niping at whatever exposed bit of skin she could get to. Needing to touch her in return he blindly reached inside the shirt and cardigan he wore, tracing the ridges of his spine, feeling her skin hot and slick beneath his fingertips. It was then that she found a particularly-sensitive point between his neck and shoulder, sinking her teeth into it with such force that he practically roared, raking his nails down her back. She gasped, arching up against him before a shred of common sense filtered back into his addled brain, freezing him in place. 

Fuck. He had hurt her. He had been so fucking careless he had forgotten his sharp claws and how easily they could cut through human skin. He didn’t fight her when she flipped them over, pinning him down like the fucking beast he was. They were close enough to the fire that he now realised she had to be able to see it all, the eyes, the scales, the sharpened teeth. The utter inhumanity of it, out in all its ugly glory. He fumbled for an apology, hating himself for still feeling extremely aroused after hurting her. She was probably scared to death, he needed to fucking think and try and say something to reassure her, to make her see he wasn’t going to hurt-

“Hey.”

Belle’s voice sounded low, no hint of trepidation in it. One of her hands combed the hair away from his face, turning his head so he would look up at her. It was then that he noticed her eyes… they were glowing. Bright blue, an almost electric colour, with the barest touch of silver. He looked beyond, into the pale skin of her face and arms, bared by his frenzied undressing. The skin had a strange shine to it, and when he focused he could see the small, sleek scales, so pale they were easily overlooked, except that their opalescent nature made them reflect the light from the fire in a myriad of different shades, like an opal. Everything felt, at once, familiar and wholly strange, so similar and yet so different from his own appearance.

‘Like us. Told you.’ The creature purred from inside him, smug and pleased. ‘Smells right. Like mate.’

He inhaled, noticing her burnt caramel smell was more pronounced and sweeter, not to mention coming mostly from within her soft thighs. Fuck, how had he not seen it before? He had never met another like him, not up close and personal. He had heard rumours of others, had read stories, but his had been a solitary life. For all he knew he was the only one like him in Maine, or even the United States. Fuck, the whole world. And it turned out he wasn’t even the only one like him in Storybrooke. And the creature had known by scent and instinct alone. 

A new sort of desperation grew in him. He wanted to see, he needed to see. Fully unsheathing his claws, now that he wasn’t afraid to be discovered or to hurt her, he shredded what was left of his shirt on her, uncovering more of her glorious torso to his greedy eyes. His eyes took in her delicate scaled waist and the opalescent reflections the light made on her breasts, where the scales seemed to be softer, almost feathery. He watched in enraptured fascination as a pale lavender blush spread down her torso and across the high points of her cheeks. 

Fuck, she was perfect. Delicate and beautiful and a match for him in every way. There was no need to pretend, or hide, or go slow and soft. The creature inside him agreed in a gleeful hiss. He buried his head on the crook of her shoulder, his tongue darting out to taste her scales, marvelling at the feel of them. Not rough at all, but rather pleasantly slippery and hot. He rubbed his head against her neck and shoulder, purring at the feel of it.

“Gold, please.”

She fidgeted above him, aroused and bothered by his seemingly-stupified state.

“Rowan.” He growled his name against her skin, voice thick and barely understandable, pitched too low to be human. “Call me Rowan.”

When she whispered his name in a keen, needy wail it was as if something snapped inside him. He pounced, tackling her to the grown and taking advantage of her surprised gasp to kiss her open mouth, letting his tongue trace the sharp points of her teeth and feel her raspy tongue. His claws made short work of her lovely leggings, and he would have felt a small stab of guilt at destroying them if Belle hadn’t proceeded to practically shred his own pants. He lost the rest of his clothing in the tousle that followed. It wasn’t the way he had ever understood sex to be like but it felt right, instinctual, to wrestle on the hardwood floor, nipping and scratching and biting as they took turns pinning each other down.

Slowly, naturally, a rhythm built between them, everything getting slower and more intense. Claws dragged deeper against skin, teeth dug harder against flesh and the air grew hot between them, smelling pleasantly of burnt caramel and woodsmoke. He mouthed at every bit of skin he could reach, taking special care to map as much of her breasts as she would allow, taking care to notice when she made needy little whimpers or when her scent spiked, indicating her pleasure.

“Enough.” Belle sunk her nails deep into the scales of his shoulder, hurting in the best possible way. “Fuck me, Rowan.”

He didn’t know if it was the words or the commanding tone that made him lose his mind but in the blink of an eye he was pinning her to the ground, hands holding her wrists above her head. He took a quick moment to try to commit the moment to memory before instinct completely took over and he thrust deep into her. She arched, tight as a bowstring, cunt tightening around his cock in a vice grip that had him almost spilling himself then and there. No human woman had ever felt this hot and good, and had he known it could feel like that he would have never been able to orgasm with a human partner. 

When he finally had himself under some semblance of control he began to thrust, with little finesse but all the pent-up passion he had. It was brutal but she took it all, reciprocating his movements and begging him to go faster, harder. Pleasure built up to an almost painful degree, his muscles coiling, tension building until it was difficult to say what hurt and what didn’t. Instinctively he bent over, scraping his teeth against the underside of one of her breasts. Belle thrashed beneath him, letting out a hoarse cry as she tightened around him once more, inner muscles fluttering against his cock as she came. She followed her seconds later, the relief leaving him almost giddy with delight.

He found himself desperately in need of pressing himself against her, the orgasm leaving him uncharacteristically cuddly. Belle felt clearly the same, twining her limbs around him. He marvelled at the colour contrast, deep gold against pale opalescent pink, and at the similar way in which their scales were raised, overly-sensitive after their coupling. He pressed his ear against the side of her torso, feeling rather than hearing her purr.

“Hmm, that was even better than I imagined. Didn’t know it could be so good with someone like me.”

It felt ridiculously good to know that he was her first as she was his, in a sense. He wondered if she had always known what he was, if she had been able to recognise him as kin from the beginning, and how. Wondered about where she came from, and how her upbringing had been compared to his. He wanted to see her hoard, her books and her shoes and see if he could detect what it was that appealed to her. 

There would be time for all of that later, he decided, propping himself up just enough to reach the cashmere throw forgotten on the sofa, spreading it over them as their bodies cooled.

There would be time for everything.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelle christmas in july #nerdrumple

[arolla-pine]

I, Marinette - p.5

(5) – The Musketeers

The lunch break was about to end soon. I managed to get the idea of Marinette’s schedule, I riffled “The three musketeers” and I ate lunch without any blunder. I agreed with Tikki a plan that she would pinch me every time I acted not like the character I embodied.

Before I went back to school I asked my kwami if we should inform Plagg about these temporary inconvenience, but Tikki decided not to. In her opinion that would make the situation even more complicated. Personally, I had rather positive opinion on Plagg but I thought that Tikki had known him for a few thousand years longer than me…

I entered the school at the moment of school bell ringing. This time it was planned – just to avoid chatting with my friends. It was too risky for my real identity.

“So? Have you managed to read the book?” Alya asked me while we were heading to the staircase.

“I riffled through. I’ll try to stay invisible…” I muttered.

“I like the book so much!” Adrien joined us. “Such a lively plot, so many surprises…”

“You must be joking! That was terrible! Those descriptions…” Nino commented. “I was bored to death…”

“Impossible!” Adrien disagreed. “So many plot twists, duels, chases…”

“Love affairs…” I added under my breath.

“Love affairs, yes…” my ex-almost-boyfriend nodded. “Right… There were some…” he chuckled uncomfortable and ruffled his hair.

“I think that morality wasn’t their strong suit.” I  blurted before I bit my tongue. There still was more Lena than Marinette in my behaviour.

“Why do you think so?” Alya laughed.

“Look at d’Artagnan…” I continued, because if I started I should finish. “First, he fell in love with someone else’s wife. OK, I get it, heart wants what it wants… But her… She reciprocated despite the fact she’d already been married!”

“With an old guy!” Alya exclaimed.

“But she married him, didn’t she?”

“Constance wasn’t a musketeer.” Adrien cut in.

“Right.” I nodded. “But I was talking about d’Artagnan. He was so in love with Constance, yet it didn’t stop him from an affair with Milady…”

“Femme fatale…” Adrien muttered.

I smiled to myself when I thought what would happen if he blurted out Cat Noir’s famous ‘M’Lady’… He must have had strong self-control not to reveal his superhero-self.

“When I’m listening you guys, I’m starting thinking if we’ve read the same book…” Nino commented.

Alya and I began laughing. The situation was hilarious, indeed, and it only showed how differently we experienced the novel. And that was something I loved so much in reading!

“I’m so happy you haven’t found there those love affairs!” Alya winked at her boyfriend. “Who knows what would inspire you or…”

“Never!” Nino denied immediately and glared at her.

“Good!” she summed up the discussion and hugged him, but I could bet that she wanted to kiss him.

I felt uncomfortable. I remembered from the show that AlyaNino was only mentioned sometimes. I loved all subtle hints about their relationship like this one with Nino invited for a family diner with the Cesaires. I appreciated the moment when Alya took Nino’s hand – I found it so meaningful but still delicate. Now, I had an impression that they would start making out if they weren’t in the classroom… That didn’t fit my image of their relationship.

My thinking about AlyaNino was interrupted by Caline Bustier who finally appeared and after short apologising for being late, she began the lesson. We sat down and took out books and tablets.

“I hope everyone has read the book…” the teacher said, and I caught Alya’s concerned glance. “If there’s anyone who hasn’t, please tell me now. Otherwise you won’t be able to fulfil the task for today lesson.”

I heard my colleagues’ whispers. Everyone was unsure what the teacher meant.

“Calm down!” Miss Bustier smiled. “It’s nothing stressful. I planned a group project for today. Please sit in groups of up to four!”

Chloe Bourgeois snorted and started complaining to Sabrina about how unfair this plan was. She was in a group with Sabrina, Mylène and Alix, but I was sure she wanted Adrien instead. And only Adrien, excluding Nino…

The boys sitting in front of my desk turned around, as if creating our group of four was as simple as possible. I ignored green flashes in Adrien’s eyes, trying to focus on the teacher. I waited for details of what we were going to do.

“Now, basing of the book you’ll decide on which character suits you the most.” Caline Bustier instructed us, and when all students began exchanging ideas, she added loudly: “Remember! You don’t choose for yourself. The character for you will be chosen by your partners in the group! Try to fit the personality of a musketeer to your colleague’s features.”

Wow, that sounded great! I liked analysing people’s minds…

“Anyone has an idea, what’s to do?” Nino asked.

“Should we choose from the short list of four main characters?” I wondered quietly.

“I guess so…” Alya wasn’t sure.

“Ma’am, should we choose only between the four musketeers?” Adrien asked aloud.

“Yes, Adrien.” The teacher answered. “You choose only between those four. But… Who did you want to consider?”

“Uhm…” The blond stopped and looked at me. Right, I was the author of that question.

“Milady de Winter or Constance?” I mumbled.

“You would have a candidate for Milady de Winter?” Caline Bustier smiled.

I was so close to blurt out that Chloe would be a good one. Or rather Lila! Yeah, she would be even better!

“So, who’s first?” Nino started.

“Let’s take Marinette!” Alya suggested with a malicious grin. ‘Et tu, Brute, contra me?’ I wanted to say, but bit my tongue.

“Great…” I muttered. “You’re going to deal with that or you need my help?”

“Oh, it’s so easy, Marinette! You’re a perfect d’Artagnan!” My friend laughed. “Nobody else is so unlucky to get in trouble! Besides, d’Artagnan was as clumsy as you are…”

“You’re a straight arrow, you know?” I winced.

“I don’t think Marinette is clumsy!” Adrien said. Well, well… Adrien-she’s-just-a-friend had spoken! Oh, poor blind boy…

“Besides, d’Artagnan was a perfect fencer. How could he be clumsy?” Nino added.

“He was in trouble because he offended by mistake some people or he associated with wrong people…” Alya was trying to defend her idea. “He was naïve. Remember how he believed in Milady’s lies?”

Honestly, while I was listening this description, I could find some similarities to Adrien. But I remembered to be more like Marinette instead of Lena. So I stayed quiet.

“Should I be so amorous too?” I asked sarcastically, and my friend burst out laughing.

“Great idea, girl!”

“You have fun I can see…” Caline Bustier appeared above our heads.

“We’re sorry…” we all mumbled.

“I’ve thought that you get into characters so well!” Our teacher joked. “For a moment I felt like I was in a tavern…”

Then Mme Bustier moved to another group, and we exchanged glances.

“I assume that now Porthos and Aramis should start fighting and Athos should start drinking…” I commented, and the boys chuckled.

“You’d drown your sorrows too if you had such a life!” Alya said.

“Sorrows can swim…” I recalled a phrase I’d heard ages ago.

I kept ignoring Adrien’s flashes, but when Alya and Nino exchanged their meaningful glances, I felt alarmed. Besides, Tikki was drilling in my hip. Too much of Lena, too little of Marinette!

“Who’s next?” I asked, just to draw my friends’ attention to the play.

“Maybe Adrien?” Alya decided.

“You’re a boss like Athos!” I commented.

“You’re right, Marinette!” Nino agreed in an amused voice.

“Do you want to be Milady de Winter?!” Alya glared at her boyfriend.

It was just on a tip of my tongue – the thought that Milady had an affair with d’Artagnan. But Tikki kept drilling and that helped me in staying quiet. However, it was quite possible that the thought dawned upon Adrien, because I noticed his glance at Nino, then at me, and then back at Nino. Wow… It looked like the golden boy started thinking!

“Miss Bustier said that we should choose among the four musketeers only.” He reminded, and I smiled to myself. Definitely this dummy started thinking! But why now?! Couldn’t he do this yesterday?!

“I can be Athos.” Alya agreed. “Who’s next?”

“We have Porthos and Aramis left.” I noted. “An honest strongman vs. an ambitious swordsman.”

“It’s easy.” Alya shrugged. “Nino will be Porthos and Adrien will be Aramis.”

“You’re bossy again, Al…” Nino reminded. “Wasn’t Porthos a dumb one?”

“Less educated maybe. But not dumb.” I muttered. “And he gets married eventually. And Aramis… uhm…”

“Was a womaniser.” Alya finished.

“Hello!” Adrien cut in.

“I wanted to say that he was rather popular among women…” I explained uncomfortable. But I knew Alya was right, because Aramis not only was popular but did like women’s company. A lot.

“I’ve read that book, Marinette…” Adrien replied, looking me in the eye. “I know you’re trying to be politically correct, but Alya’s right.”

“OK, but admit that Aramis knew some foreign languages and was a perfect fencer. Seems to me that it suits you.”

“Thank you, Marinette. You’re very kind.” Adrien bowed in my direction like a real musketeer. He needed only a feathered hat.

“You’re welcome.” I bowed in reply.

“Geez, you both look like you were playing a part in ‘The three musketeers’!” Nino summed up. “If Mme Bustier thought that we were in a tavern before, I’d say now that you look like at Louis XIII ball…”

I chuckled, and soon my friends joined me. At the same moment our teacher clapped and laugh died in our mouths. At first I thought we were too loudly, but soon it was obvious that she wanted to draw the attention of the whole class.

“I can see that you’ve had a lot of fun with playing roles of the main four musketeers. For Monday you’ll write a paper with the characters’ description. Of all four musketeers!”

I heard some whines behind my back. That was a second paper to be prepared for Monday – the first one was about a planet for professor Mendeleiev. Thankfully, I didn’t have to write at least that one. I needed to go back to Marinette’s home and to start looking for a way back to my real life.

If my intuition was right, there was an akuma behind this and a supervillain would show up soon, because Hawkmoth would claim fulfilling their deal. In exchange for superpowers he always wanted the same – the Miraculouses of Ladybug and Cat Noir.

---

I, Marinette - p.4  <-  Previous part  |  Next part ->  I, Marinette - p.6

Read the story from the beginning

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #fanfic #I Marinette #Adrien Agreste #Lena Klimka #Alya Cesaire #Nino Lahiffe #the three musketeers

[imnotdoneyet-forreal]

Deals with the Devil- 13

Author: Amanda Preston

Summary: A need to fill a void and an encounter to start something new, Elijah and Katya never knew that a simple one night stand would wind up into a love affair filled with family drama and side deals gone wrong.

Deals with the Devil Masterlist  

       Elijah was having a hard time concentrating while Kol roamed around his office. They were waiting for Rose from HR to pop by with the paperwork needed for Kol’s one of a kind internship but she was taking her time. It wouldn’t surprise him if she was just too afraid to come into his office. Rose was bold with anyone else but when it came to any member of the Mikaelson family she lost that same courage. 

        “Kol, don’t touch that,” Elijah scolds as he watches his brother play with one of the plaques hung on his wall. “Or that one either. Perhaps none of them.”

        Kol sighs and plops into the seat across from his desk. 

        “What am I even doing here, Elijah?” Kol asks. “Have you thought of that?” 

        “I’m sure I’ll find something for you to do,” Elijah mutters under his breath as he tries to remain focused on the paperwork in front of him. 

        “Am I even going to get paid?” 

        “Does that even matter?” Elijah responds frustrated already. “Mother still gives you an allowance.” 

        “I would like to be paid, Elijah.” 

        Elijah restrains from scoffing and looks up at his brother. 

        “If your work is sufficient enough then we can discuss such a topic.” 

        “Well that is utter bullsh-” 

        “Kol…” Elijah sighs out finally being pulled away from his work. “That kind of language won’t be tolerated here.” 

        Kol rolls his eyes and falls back into his chair. 

        “Why don’t we cut to the chase?” Kol offers, causing Elijah to look at him in question. “You know very well that I don’t want to be here as much or even more so than you don’t want me here so why don’t you just fire me now and we can go our separate way.” 

        Elijah chuckles at this and stares at his younger brother. 

        “And then what will you do?” Elijah asks him. “Stay at home with mother?” 

        “No, I was planning to travel,” Kol answers. “Perhaps visit Nik. See where things go from there.” 

        “Mother will freeze your trust the moment you step out of her door.” 

        “She wouldn’t,” Kol scoffs. 

        “She would,” Elijah reiterates. 

        “She didn’t do it for Niklaus,” Kol argues. 

        “Well that’s because she had no other choice,” Elijah explains. “Niklaus blackmailed her so unless you have that same power in hand then I suggest you remain here and work.” 

        “Blackmailed with what?” 

        “Like I’ll ever tell,” Elijah mutters as a knock on his door interrupts him. “Must be Rose with the paperwork.” 

        The door opens only to reveal Caroline. She doesn’t look pleased at the sight of Kol lounging in his seat and Kol doesn’t seem too pleased at seeing her either.

        “What can I do for you, Caroline?” 

        “Rose wanted me to bring this up to you since I was already on my way here,” Caroline states as she handed a portfolio to Elijah. “I wanted to see for myself if it was true…” 

        Kol simply offers her a mock smile which seems to infuriate her more.         

        “So are we really just letting anyone work here?” 

        “They let you,” Kol quips. 

        “Funny,” Caroline scowls. “But I was actually referring to you.”   

        “Oh really?” Kol grins. “You are surprised that I, a Mikaelson, would come work in the family business?” 

        “You out of all the Mikaelsons?” Caroline clarifies. “Yes.” 

        “What is that supposed to mean?” 

        “It means that you will bring no real use to the company.” 

        Kol growls in response prompting Elijah to finally step in. 

        “Though this conversation is riveting, I must ask for you to put a pin in it,” Elijah states. “Thank you, Caroline.” 

        Caroline simply offers a nod towards Elijah and starts making her way out of his office. 

        “I don’t understand what Niklaus sees in her,” Kol comments. “She’s not that pretty.” 

        Elijah refrains from making a comment and simply slides the paperwork to Kol. 

        “Just sign the paperwork, Kol, and then all of this can be over with.”

        Kol doesn’t move from his seat prompting Elijah to sigh once more. 

        “What now, Kol?” 

        Kol sits up properly and leans over the desk. 

        “How long do I have to work here before I can fire people?” 

        “You’re not firing Caroline,” Elijah responds. 

        “That’s not what I asked.” 

        “But that is what you implied and the answer is never.” 

        Kol rolls his eyes and reads through the contract with a critical eye. 

        “I’m playing your assistant,” Kol scoffs. “Your bloody assistant, Elijah!” 

        “You’re going to be shadowing me,” Elijah clarifies. “I can’t afford to lose my sight on you. You’ll wreak havoc in the office.” 

        Kol simply grins knowing his elder brother had a point. He signs the contract knowing he could cause more damage alongside Elijah than anywhere else. The quicker he drove his brother mad the quicker he’ll be off and doing his own thing. 

        “Fine,” Kol mutters. “But you will grow to regret this.” 

        “I already do.” 

        Kol throws the contract across the desk causing an instant mess on Elijah’s desk. Elijah lets out an exasperated sigh and tries to clean it up. 

        “So what’s next?” 

        “Just sit there and be quiet,” Elijah orders. “I have much work to do.” 

        “Easy,” Kol sighs out as he makes himself comfortable. He leans into his chair, throwing his feet onto the edge of Elijah’s desk. 

        Elijah could only glare at his brother knowing better than to fall for the game he was trying to play. 

        “Kol…” 

        Before Elijah could say much else, a knock on his door interrupts him. Gia steps in with a tablet on her hand ignoring Kol’s curious gaze and focusing entirely on Elijah. 

        “I know you prefer to wait a few weeks before having a follow-up meeting but you are busy in the weeks ahead so would you prefer to wait or should I schedule something for this weekend?” 

        Elijah has to bite his tongue noting his brother’s current focus. For the first time, Kol seems to have taken an interest in his work at the most inconvenient moment. 

        “Gia, you’re in charge of my schedule,” Elijah remarks. “Find a way to make it work.” 

        “I’ve tried,” Gia argues back. “It’s either this Friday afternoon or in a month. Pick your poison.” 

        Knowing Gia, she must have really put a lot of time and effort to allow such a situation to happen in his schedule. She was forcing his hand and Elijah can’t help but feel grateful for her meddling. He did prefer to see her sooner rather than later but under more social circumstances. 

        “This Friday will be fine,” Elijah resigns. “Make sure to let Katya… I mean, Miss Fontaine know about the meeting.” 

        “Will do,” Gia nods. “Would you like me to book a dinner reservation while I’m at it or should I…” 

        “Gia,” Elijah sternly interrupts her. “Book the conference room and send the reminder.” 

        “Fine,” she sighs out. “Fine, fine, fine…” 

        Gia starts to make the arrangements on her tablet as she steps out of his office. Once the door clicks closed, Kol turns to him with an eager grin. 

        “My, my, my brother,” Kol states. “Who would have thought you would be over Katerina so quickly. Now tell me, who’s this Katya Fontaine and how do I thank her for such a miracle?”

        Elijah can feel the incoming headache arrive and there was still a long day ahead of him to push through.

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