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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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"Hi kinda new. I don't know if this is where requests go, but if you haven't done it yet can I request an MC sneaking into the boys beds?" ~irenethehotdog

The MC Sneaks Into the Brothers' Beds While They're Asleep

@irenethehotdog don’t worry, I found ya anyway. 😁 Sooo there was a kind of tender way I could have played this… but then there was a funny way. I hope you're alright that I went with the funny way. 😅 I got two bed requests that are kind of similar-ish but how I’m interpreting them makes them just different enough to warrant two different asks. Here's the first one!

Check out my Masterlist for more!

Warning: Comical nudity? Is that NSFW-ish?

Intro:

Sometimes everybody needs a little comfort, especially in the middle of the night. Any number of things could have drawn the MC out of their bed: bad dreams, nagging thoughts, just general fear of the darkness of Hell that surrounded them, but they decided to try to soothe their unease with the company of their demonic housemates! Wonder how that turned out for them..?

Lucifer

I mean, if you’re feeling a little alone at night, maybe a little scared, it would only be natural to want to seek solace with the strongest person in the nearest vicinity, right? ...Right?

To say it was maybe ill-advised to just climb into bed with Lucifer would be an understatement… Frankly, if the enchantments he had on his door weren’t specifically meant for Mammon then they might have ended up in a very compromised position. But somehow, they managed to infiltrate the demon’s private sanctuary and get right up to his bed.

Now, Lucifer is not a heavy sleeper. Not at all. He’s grown pretty accustomed to waking up at all hours of the night because of his brother’s antics, so he felt the shifting weight on his mattress almost instantly.

They probably weren’t expecting him to suddenly jerk upright and spin towards them, fireball in hand ready to lob at their face... but that’s what they got.

After realizing that it was just the human and not Mammon coming in to take his stuff again, he made them sit down in front of his fireplace while he gave them a looong lecture about personal boundaries and how it’s really not smart to sneak up on demons like that…

But he was still sympathetic to their sleep-deprived state so he offered them some tea and Devildom sleep remedies in hopes of getting them back to bed. ...Just not his. Back to your bed with you, MC.

Mammon

Mammon was their “babysitter.” Their protector. Their guardian. So why wouldn’t they want to go to him on a difficult night?

Getting into Mammon’s bed was hardly a challenge, sure they had to tiptoe through the garbage heap that made up his bedroom floor but it wasn’t Mission Impossible or anything…

What did catch them off guard was just how… not clothed he felt after they slid in under his covers. Like, pretty much wearing nothing at all. Not even a pair of courtesy boxers. 😓

It was their squeal as they flung themselves out of the bed that actually woke Mammon up. They had him ripping the covers off, ready to leap into action and everything, which definitely didn’t help matters. (Or maybe it did, depending on your point of view 🤷‍♀️).

Both parties pretty much turned into a cursing/blushing mess as he shot them embarrassed, rapid-fire questions while desperately trying to pull on some sweats. Meanwhile the MC stayed plastered up against the wall of his bedroom, answering him in equally defensive shouts.

Eventually, their fuss woke up Lucifer who was quick to send both of them back to their respective beds. The House teased them mercilessly for weeks… How were they supposed to know Mammon slept naked??

Leviathan

Levi might be a… strange choice for bedmate at first glance (he doesn’t really even sleep in bed, but a tub hardly meant for two people). However, there’s a certain level of approachability to him, isn’t there? Considering his own struggles with anxiety, maybe they thought he could relate…?

They tried knocking on his door first, thinking he might have been gaming, but there was no answer. When they walked in and found the otaku actually asleep for once, it seemed like their wishes might have actually been granted!

...But then came the actual trouble of trying to get into bed with Levi to start with. There wasn’t really an easy way to squeeze their body in past his because the tub was so dang narrow…

Any rational person might have just given up on the venture, but not MC. Whatever's possessed them to want to sleep with this awkward shut-in has a pretty good hold on them yet.

Lack of sleep might have been what gave them the bright idea to just try and lay on top of Levi veeerrry sooooftlllly…. Which is how the poor demon woke up to them halfway straddling his waist in the middle of the night.

His remarkably high-pitched scream woke up the whole dang House and the sheer amount of force he used when trying to jerk out of the tub toppled it over… Even after many apologies (and a trip to go buy a new tub), Levi still double locks his door at night to this day… 😓

Satan

Really an odd choice there, not going to lie. They’re well aware of the possibility that they could accidentally wake him and he maaaay not be the best waker (what being Wrath and all) but if it’s irrational worries that got you down, why not go to the most rational person in the House? Sounds like a perfectly logical decision, right?

That might have been what their half-baked disillusions were telling them on the way to Satan's bedroom but actually standing in front of the sleeping man was a whole other story. They felt crazy, genuinely crazy… But they still slipped in under the covers anyway.

Satan stirred almost immediately and turned to face them… but his eyes could hardly keep focus and the look of dopey confusion on his face could have honestly made the perfect screen background. "Huuuuuh…? MC…? What're you doin' 'ere…?"

They kind of had to hold in a laugh while they explained that they just wanted to sleep next to him that night. Satan beamed them an oddly serene smile and just nodded. "Okaaay…" With that he seemed to roll over to go back to sleep… but his mind caught back up with him before his drowsiness did.

"Wait a minute..." Ah shit….

Like Lucifer, Satan ended up giving them a pretty good lecture on boundaries and the like when he finally snapped out of his stupor. Thankfully he wasn't mad, just a little embarrassed that they had seen him like that. He offered them a good book or two to pass the time if they couldn't sleep, but sent them back to bed all the same.

Asmodeus

Asmo probably doesn’t get people coming into his bed with completely chaste intentions very often, but he’s by far the most emotionally in-tuned demon in the House. If they're after a little sympathy, best just go to Asmo right?

They weren't really sure what to expect when they walked into his room... Does Asmo sleep like a Disney Princess, hair and makeup done perfectly in defiance of all laws of beauty?

Does he sleep like a '60s housewife, with curlers in his hair and leftover chips of mud mask on his face?

Does he sleep like the god of all sex that he is, sculpted chest for the eyes to see and everything underneath laid bare like a honeypot of temptation??

The MC doesn't really get to know, because when they pulled back the covers to climb inside they were met by the sight of someone else's very naked ass taking up the spot where they thought Asmo should be.

They go back to their room willingly, dejected and maybe a little scarred... Apparently they were just too late to the party...

Beelzebub

Okay, everything about Beel screams “Hello! I’m a warm comforting teddy bear!”...aside from the hungry parts. It’s really not hard to see why they’d want to go to him if they’re feeling a little vulnerable.

They didn't worry too much about being quiet when they walked into the twins' room. Belphie could sleep through a rock concert and Beel wasn't too far behind him (as long as he wasn't hungry).

They figured that the tall twin wouldn't mind too much if they just crawled into bed with him… He had make a similar request of them before, it was only fair right?

As they were preparing their tired body for a good night's sleep, they gently pulled the covers back next to Beel but they probably weren't expecting to find so many food wrappers surrounding him… or bags of chips… or packages of cookies… or-

Apparently Beel had yet another sleep-eating run and this time he seemed to have brought the whole kitchen back with him. There was hardly enough room left for Beel anymore, let alone the MC!

Considering their options were to either wedge themselves between a havoc roast and a bag of jerky or just brave one more night on their own, they cut their losses early and went back to their own bed...

Belphegor

They didn’t have to know Belphie since Day One of being there to pick up on how hard he slept. The man was pretty much in a coma for most of the day and that included his nightly rests too. Would he even notice if they… per say… slipped into bed with him to get a little comfort from their nightmares? Surely, he’d stay asleep, right?

When they didn't see his sleeping form in the room he shared with Beel, the MC eventually found Belphie up in the attic room. His little hideaway with a plush-ass bed to boot.

They didn’t bother being quiet at all. They figured that Belphie could have stayed under for anything short of banging pots and pans in his ears so why try to mask their footsteps?

They never expected him to be awake. 😰

The moment they lifted the covers, Belphie struck like some kind of blanket crocodile! He grabbed them by the waist and dragged them into the spot of the bed right under him with a impish grin on his face.

Turns out they weren't the only ones having sleeping problems that night and as they felt the full weight of his worn out body settle in nicely up against theirs they knew that maybe, finally, they'd get a good night's sleep… 🤭

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me requests #obey me scenarios

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y0itsbri · 3 years

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gallavich week 2021 - day 2 - fantasy au w/ inspo from this wonderful prompt list by @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

You're Not Getting Cold Fins Now, Are Ya?

word count: 6.3k

(click on art for better quality)

Mickey truly enjoyed being a fisherman. He liked the solitude that came with the job -- no one on his ass trying to tell him what to do or that what he's doing was wrong when it definitely wasn't. He was always a resourceful little bastard, and his confidence at sea was not unwarranted. He knew how to do shit, and how to do shit right -- crewmates be damned. Nothing but him and the water, just the way he liked it.

He often sold his fish at the market in the small coastal town where he and his sister, Mandy, reside. Her charisma luring customers to their stand, promising the best of the best -- and it wasn't even a lie anymore. Lately, Mickey's produce was the freshest and somehow the most beautiful, catching somewhat exotic fish with vibrant colors that none of the other fishermen were able to attract. Mandy had once trapped him in the corner, demanding answers to questions like how on earth he alone could come up with all this? She thought he was secretly a pirate, raiding other ships, stealing their best, and dumping the rest -- you can't fucking afford to go to jail again, dumbass! Time after time, he reassured her that it was just dumb fucking luck until she caved and let him go, not withholding a dubious glare. Despite what he told her, and even told himself, he was a bit suspicious. He was not a lucky man.

With an ungraceful leap, he had heaved himself out of his boat, the water well deeper than his knees, but his overalls keeping him as dry as he could be. His beef jerky strip hanged out of his mouth as he marveled towards the tree line in front of him. If he didn't feel so damn calm, he might have been a bit frightened at his new surrounding -- but it felt right. He also felt like he was being watched. His eyes scanned past the trees and over to the rocky ledge where water was splashing high and mighty, creating a silvery mist. He saw a patch of orange-ish red shimmering against the water. It was surely too shallow for any fish or octopus that size to be this close to shore. He turned around to make sure he boat was firmly anchored this time before he ventured over to the rocks. But as soon as he turned around again, the orange thing had disappeared. Huh.

Mickey sat himself in the sand, reveling in the feeling of being on land again. As often as he flipped between land and sea, the difference never failed to startle him. He dragged his hands through the sand, feeling like some fancy exfoliator Mandy was always trying to get him to use. He was adamantly watching the colorful rocks bead through his fingertips. A larger stone caught in his palm. He held it up to the sun where it was peeking out from behind the clouds. At first glance, it looked like any other stone -- kind of a boring sea foam color, but in the sun, it sparkled like green embers. He rested the stone atop his knee and turned his attention to a bird squawking from the rocks. Noisy fucker. He furrowed his eyebrows wondering what could have happened for the bird to cause such a fuss. Stuck in his tangle of thoughts and oblivious to the world, a wave swept over him -- even above his overalls.

Mickey leapt up in surprise, "Motherfuck-!" In all his joust movements, he managed his lose the stone... and his dignity. He didn't have a spare change of clothes on his boat because it was supposed to be a short trip. He didn't plan on falling asleep and ending up on an island god-knows-where. So there he sat, pouting, in just his boxers and hat while he let the remainder of his clothes air dry with what little sun there was. He could've sworn he heard someone laughing at him -- giggling, even. He glared towards the squawking bird before determining it was his own paranoia. Mandy had him do all that therapy shit awhile back, so he knows how he can get sometimes and how it's a 'trauma response' or some bullshit that actually made a hell of a lot of sense now that he thought about it.

He pulled out an orange from the front pocket of his overalls, still half damp in the sand. He nibbled on it, tossing his peels as far into the tide as he could, watching it float... float... disappear. Whatever creature was down there must really fuckin' like oranges. It was quick, but exciting none-the-less. Mickey no longer felt sluggish like his impromptu nap that landed him on this island might have suggested. He felt alive.

The sun placement told him that it was time to head back if he had any chance of making it back to the coast before sundown. Fuck! His fish! He picked up his clothes and half-jogged half-stumbled back to his boat, expecting the fish he had caught earlier in the day to have gotten tainted by now. He shoved his legs into his mostly-dry overalls and waded out to his boat. To his surprise, the fish looked good -- almost better than when he caught them.

Now Mickey may not be the most observant, but even he knew something was a little suspicious (something a little fishy is going on here🤔). If he didn't know then, he definitely knew when he turned to see the green ember stone -- his stone -- resting on top of his ice box. The fuck? He picked up the stone, smoothing over it's edges with his thumb, leaving a sparkling trail where his fingers had just touched. So it wasn't just from the sunlight, interesting. He secured the rock inside the zipper pocket on his overalls, then double checking to make sure it was still there. Whatever force on his side might be into second chances, but he didn't want to test his new luck with third chances.

He really had to get going now. He gave the island a once over as he pulled out his map, subtly marking his new uncharted oasis. This was something else.

Since his initial discovery, Mickey had come back to the island several times, and all the more prepared. He kept spare clothes on him at all times now, in case the tide one again decided to have a personal vendetta against him and his overalls -- which of course it had. He also brought more beef jerky, tools, and a tent. He was determined to see more than just the coast the next time he returned.

He had told Mandy that he was going to stop at another port for the night so as not to wait up for him that evening, which wasn't unheard of. With the amount of overnight stays on his isolated island as of lately, however, Mandy thought he had a secret lover a few ports over, teasing and making kissy faces at him whenever she could. "Who is she, Mick? Oh, c'mon, I tell you about my hookups!" "Yeah, and I wish you fuckin' didn't." "Whatever, anyways, she's gotta have a name. Wait! Oh my god! He? Is it a guy? Mickey!" "Mandy, no." She could be annoying as hell when she wanted to, but she mostly knew when to stop.

As much as Mickey denied a secret lover, there was definitely a secret something, but he couldn't place his finger on exactly what it was. He knew there was like the red-ish, orange-ish glow that flickered beneath the surface of the water. And he knew there was feelings. Which sounded weird as hell -- even to himself. He should have just played along with Mandy's hookup in another port theory. Hell, he should find a hookup in another port. That would be a lot simpler than whatever this was. But he just couldn't get himself to stay away from this mystical island. His fish business was doing better than ever, so he had no real excuse to stay away.

He had managed to map out the geography and topography of the island after a few visits -- Mickey knew his shit. No one lived on this island. It looked like no one has ever lived on this island. It was a small, and it was beautiful, but he still couldn't find the source of whatever force drew him here -- at least when he was actively searching for it. He continued throwing his orange peels in the ocean to be devoured by his... friend? He tried to throw his apple cores in, but his creature was apparently not a fan. He didn't blame them, to be honest.

He began to talk to himself and even sing to himself more and more on the island. He thought he may have heard the laughter again, and even some off-key humming or whistles along to his tunes. Mickey didn't even care if it was the paranoia or if he was having some odd hallucination at this point. He just felt entirely too good.

Which is why he didn't see it coming. If he hadn't been so distracted by this siren-like callings, he would have noticed the storm coming. He was Mickey fucking Milkovich, damnit. He knew his shit! Which is why he knew that he could secure the boat as best as humanly possible, and it still wouldn't survive the storm surge unscathed. He hoped that whatever force looking out for him would look out for his boat. He said a quick prayer -- and he wasn't religious by any means -- as he double checked to make sure he had his 'lucky' stone, his backpack, and his map, then hiked inland where he knew there was a cave for shelter.

He had escaped the start of the downpour, but only barely. The dark clouds loomed overhead, chasing out any hopes of a light, easy rain. Mickey huddled against the inner wall of the cave, nibbling at one of his jerky strips, and cursing the lack of cell phone signal on this fucking island that doesn't even fucking exist according to any map he's ever fucking seen. To say he was having a bad day was an understatement. He couldn't do much but wait, and he quickly fell asleep to the pitter patter of the water dripping outside the cave.

He awoke to a sharp burning on his chest. The fuck?! His so-called 'lucky' stone was hot. And glowing. And so was most of the other rocks in the cave. Now this was definitely something. The stones obviously did not want him to stay still as they grew hotter and glowed brighter, but this time alternating and lighting up a path down a miniscule stream he hadn't noticed before. The storm had long stopped, and he hoped these bewitched stones would at least lead him to the shore so he can check on whatever remains of his boat.

Mickey followed the path to the shore, luckily, but more towards the rocks that he noticed on his first visit. He hardly saw the rocks now as he was drawn to a heap of familiar orange-ish red-ish laid up on shore. He fully expected it to disappear again so he refused to even blink, inching closer. It was alive -- for sure -- that was good, but it was battered from the storm. It looked scaley... but also had hair? It grunted and rolled over. Yup. That was a man. But also a fish.

Mickey thought his hallucination were playing entirely too many games on him now but he physically could not bring himself to turn away, as much as he swore he wanted to. He wanted out. He was insane. That was the only explanation, because obviously mermaids weren't real. He was sleeping, he had to be. He would wake up in his bed next door to Mandy's and all of this would go away. Hell, maybe the whole island was in his dreams. Maybe he was trapped in a very realistic coma. He looked around for something to wake him the fuck up when he heard the creature groan again.

Fuuuuuck, now Mickey was involved. The tide had pulled back far enough that left the creature stranded on the land. The stone grew hotter yet against his chest. "Alright, alright, I fuckin' got it, thank you," he grumbled. The creature turned it's startled head towards his. They locked eyes -- green embers. Of course.

"It's you, isn't it? All this time?" Mickey asked as the creature weakly tried to hide his face. Mickey didn't know why. It was a beautiful face, somehow covered in freckles that sparkled.

"Nah, man, it's cool, right? We've been having fun, eating oranges and shit?"

The creature unburied its head and quietly whistled one of Mickey's favorite songs, earning a chuckle out of Mickey as he awkwardly lifted the half-man half-fish in some semblance of a firefighter carry. Mickey expected the creature to be slick and cold, but he was soft and warm. Odd, but not unpleasant. They were almost to the water now.

"Yeah, Rain on Me by Ariana Grande and Lady Gaga. Fuckin' banger. Don't tell my fuckin' sister about this. She'd never let me live this down."

The red-headed creature tilted its head in confusion.

"Lady Gaga? Ya know, Mother Monster?"

He seemed to startle at the word 'monster' as he wiggled, escaping Mickey's grip into the water, disappearing into the dark sea. Frowning, in a last attempt at communication.

Mickey wasn't having it. Nah. The creature had been luring him for weeks. Hanging out with him for weeks. Even called out to him with some fuckin' moon stone type things. And now it wanted to disappear? He didn't fucking get it. He kept talking to himself as he paced along the shore.

"You're not getting cold fins now, are you?" Mickey teased, "Wait, fuck, is that offensive? Fuck, I'm sorry, please just come back."

He was acting fucking pathetic. He buried his face in his hands. Fuck. His brain was fucked. His life was fucked. His boat was fucked. His boat.

Mickey nearly tripped as he stumbled back to his boat. Or more like where he docked his boat. All that remained was his anchor. The rest had been mangled and scattered along the shore. He could probably get it fixed eventually since he had the little foresight to keep his tools safe in his backpack. But until then, he was stuck on an island, that apparently didn't exist, with a companion, who apparently didn't want to be perceived, and a dwindling supply of beef jerky. Great.

It had been a depressing night. Without Mandy's overenthusiastic presence or his new friend's feel-good aura, Mickey was especially pessimistic. He hardly got any sleep, his brain racking all the ways he could possibly fix his boat. Mickey Milkovich knew his shit, but he was beginning to feel a little doomed. He took out his 'unlucky' stone from it's secure pocket, fidgeting with it like he does when he's nervous. The thing was cold (one could say it was stone cold😎).

Feeling hopeless, he stormed back to the shore, tossing his last orange into the water, intent on yelling at the water until he died a peaceful death.

"C'mon, man," his voice came out sounding more like pleading than yelling, but what can you do? "I don't give a fuck if you're a man or a fish. I need you to help me fix my fucking boat! You got me into this mess, you get me out of it!"

He collapsed in the moonlight. He was absolutely not on the verge of crying. He was focusing on his breathing so intently that he barely heard his voice.

Holy fuck, though. He finally got why the legends always referred to mermaids as sirens. He would follow this voice anywhere. It was as disturbing as it was comforting.

Mickey was knocked out of his trance as his previously-tossed orange rolled to a stop at his feet.

"I said, I'm sorry." The siren's red hair poked out of the ocean several feet in front of him. Mickey continued to stare. How the fuck did this motherfucker's freckles glow brighter than the stars in the sky above them?

"I never meant to cause you harm. Swear. I even brought you the best fish I could find. My family lectured me about cannibalism or some shit, but I just wanted any excuse to see you again."

Mickey stared in awe. The creature's voice ringing through his ears prettier than any choir he had ever heard. He had got to get himself together. He was supposed to be mad. Right!

"What about my fuckin' boat? You realize I actually have to leave this place eventually, right, Red?" Maybe Mickey was being a bit harsh considering he was basically in the middle of some magical doomsday. But he was still ridiculously frustrated at his current situation.

"Hmm," the creature considered, "my name is Ian." Ian. Ian. Ian. The name chimed through his head. "And I was thinking about your boat. I tried to save it before it was too late, but I ended up too close to the shore, and the tide was ridiculous, and hence I got stranded and we got off to the wrong... fin." Ian gave Mickey a dumbass smirk, clearly proud of himself.

Okay, it did ease the tension, Mickey would give him that. Mickey was silent for a bit too long again.

"And what is your name?" Ian mused, "I've got to stop calling you That-One-Hot-Fisherman in my head."

Mickey nearly choked, and tried to cover it up by rubbing his hand against his lips, "Mikhailo." He had no idea why he was compelled to share his real name. He hadn't used that name in years -- only liking it from the sound of his mother's mouth. He corrected himself, "Well, it's Mickey. That's what I go by."

"Okay, well, Mickey Mikhailo, shall we get started on rebuilding your boat now or do you want to wait until morning?" Ian looked both devious and sincere. It was maddeningly confusing.

If Mickey swooned at the way a fucking fish said his name, that was nobody's business. But he couldn't deny he was exhausted. His stone was warm against his chest, comfortingly so, not hot like before. He managed to mumbled out a "in the morning" before falling into the peaceful sleep he had been so desperately craving.

Mickey awoke to sunshine in his face and a bird pecking at his thigh -- the pocket where his final jerky stick remained.

"Fuck off you fucking fuck!" He shooed haphazardly while rubbing fucking literal sand out of his eyes. God, what a nightmare.

"I see someone's not a morning person," teased an orange blob from the water. Mickey rubbed his eyes again. Right. Ian.

"Fuck off, fish genius over there."

"That's not any way to treat your only chance of getting off the island anytime soon," Ian pouted.

Fish genius had a point.

"Sorry," Mickey grumbled. He was never one for apologies, but man did he need to stay on this creature's good side. But, he was all good sides as far as Mickey was concerned. In the daylight, he could see how Ian's orange hair curled into little rings when it air dried. It looked real fuckin' soft. He couldn't remember if he had the chance to touch it yesterday on their fucking rescue mission. He needed to distract himself before he said something he regretted. He was not about to be flirting with a fish. He wasn't!

"Ya got any more oranges you can toss my way? Fuckin' starving."

Ian pointed at the one sandy orange a few feet from where Mickey had slept, "Just yours that you tried to hit me with, thank you very much."

"You like the peels, though." Mickey said as he tossed a piece into the ocean, floating several yards away from where Ian's head bobbed out of the water.

That took Ian aback, "Damn, I thought I was slicker than that."

"Not that slick, man."

"Hmm." Ian briefly considered before speeding over to the peel and devouring it quickly, "I can get you some sea food -- as your people say."

"Ain't that basically illegal for you, Red? Ain't you technically sea food?" Mickey musing, tossing another piece of his orange peel into the water.

Ian rolled his eyes. "I-an." He sounded it out slowly. "But I mean, circle of life and all that." He chased the orange peel, twisting it in his fingertips, awaiting Mickey's response.

"Nah, it's cool, don't worry about it, I-an. I don't really want any part in your whole fucked up moral dilemma situation. Got enough of those myself."

Mickey avoided Ian's attempt at eye contact, and Ian didn't push the conversation any further. He seemed tentative again. Mickey didn't want to lose him again.

"So... boat stuff?" Mickey huffed as he stood up, turning to his mangled beauty.

"Yeah," Ian did that dumbass smirk again that had Mickey fucking blushing, "Boat stuff."

Ian explained that he had spent most of the night gathering the parts that he could find in the water, and even some special mud and sea weed looking things that he promised would hold it together if Mickey's tools couldn't. Mickey took offense to the lack of faith Ian had in his skills, but he eventually agreed that it was at least somewhat warranted given their current predicament.

Mickey spent the morning gathering boat parts from land, and by midday, he felt hopeful. It was a 'finding treasure in the trash' kind of moment, but it was enough for now.

Ian and Mickey had fell into idle conversations as Mickey worked to restore his boat and Ian gazed onward, bobbing in the waves.

"So, you have a sister named Mandy?" Ian asked after a slice of silent had washed over them.

"What, are you a psychic, too?" Mickey laughed nervously under his breath.

Ian rolled his eyes like that was the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "No, smartass, I'm a good listener." He paused. "You talk about her a lot."

"Wasn't sure if you were real or if I was crazy." Was all Mickey managed to respond. Ian was really more of the conversation carrier and neither of them seemed to mind.

"Do you have any other family or friends?" Ian wondered, this time genuinely curious.

"Considering I'm talking to you right now, what do you think?"

Ian silently stared at Mickey until his watch became uncomfortable and Mickey felt the urge to continue.

"Mandy's the only one that sticks around. She actually cares about me -- fixes me dinner, drags me out to meet her friends, even makes sure I get enough sleep -- she's fuckin' crazy."

"It sounds like she loves you."

"Yeah. Dunno why."

"You're a good person, Mickey."

Mickey flashed Ian his knuckles reading 'FUCK U-UP' in faded black ink. "Yeah, I'm a real stand-up guy."

"No, I mean it." And Ian just looked so genuine that all Mickey could do was believe it for once in his goddamn life. All it took was for a fish to tell him. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.

"What's your social circle look like? Couple of dolphins, maybe a crab?"

"Maybe," Ian confessed. Shit, maybe this was some real life Little Mermaid. "But I also have five siblings."

"Y'all all got bright-ass fins? Or is that just you?" Mickey still couldn't believe this was his reality right now, but shit, might as well hear about all of Ariel's siblings.

"My little sister, Debbie, she's orange like me. My mom had a theory that our colors are reflective of like our auras or something. She was always hanging around this old-as-balls sea turtle spouting off whatever nonsense he remembered. Some of it makes sense, though. My oldest sister, Fiona, is purple. Then there's my brothers -- Lip is blue, Carl is green, and Liam is yellow."

"Mandy has black hair like me. But she has a nose piercing, and I ain't getting one of those anytime soon."

Ian smiled that Mickey was even trying to draw some sort of semblance between their drastically different worlds. But it felt so natural, Mickey couldn't help it.

Mickey felt his lucky stone grow warm, again. Ian wasn't in any trouble, though. He was literally right fuckin' here. And he was happy. Mickey was happy, too.

By nightfall, they had called it quits. Mickey had ended up using some of Ian's 'special' tools, earning a fair amount of teasing from Ian himself. Whatever. The red-head had been protecting him so far. He trusted him -- even if that thought was terrifying. The mud would dry in the moonlight, and Ian assured Mickey that he would be set by morning.

Mickey was fucking hungry after a long day's work. It was high tide and Ian had something different in mind.

"Now that we're talking," Ian started. "I've been wanting to show you this."

Mickey waited for further instructions.

"Follow the stones, I'll meet you there, promise."

Mickey trusted the fucker despite his innate inability to trust anyone else, so he followed the stones into the thick of the forest. He knew the island. He had mapped the thing. He didn't know what Ian could possibly want to show him that he hadn't already seen.

The path stopped glowing near the bottom of a cliff. He knew about the cliff. But what he didn't know was that the cliff was a waterfall.

"Woah."

"Pretty cool, huh? Only happens with lots of rain."

Ian had prepared them a fish dinner set on another rocky edge, like the one on the other side of the island.

"Ian. You're a fish. This ain't right."

"First of all, I'm a mammal. Second, it's fine. They tell me when they're ready to die so I have a clear conscious as far as I'm concerned."

"Dude. I knew this was fucked up, but that is fucked up."

"Dude," Ian mocked him, "We're in the middle of the fucking ocean. Do you have any better ideas, or are you just gonna be all pissy? Least you can do is eat with me."

Mickey's jerky supply was officially gone. Fish genius had another point.

Mickey wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Ian's dinner was even better than Mandy's were.

Morning came and Mickey found himself not wanting to leave. Of course, he knew he had to, so he would.

"So, Red, I guess this is goodbye?"

"Only for now. You'll be back." Ian winked. Mickey knew he would.

"This is stupid, but like, you can't go back with me? Like, we make a pretty good team."

Mickey was visibly uncomfortable at his moment of vulnerability, and Ian took pity on him with a gentle smile. "Unless I want to get hunted, I'm better off here. It's safer."

"Right, right." That made sense. Mickey didn't even want to think about the possibility of Ian getting hurt. There had been rumors about mermaids in the area, but he had always assumed them to be tall tales. He knew enough of the fishermen were heavy drinkers and supposed that played a factor in their truth-telling.

"My mother is on land now, but she wouldn't choose to help me. Learned that the hard way."

Mickey frowned. He knew what it was like to have a parent that would trade you for literally anything else. But he was more curious about another part of Ian's story.

"What do you mean your mom is on land? Like she was captured or something?"

"No, nothing like that. More like she's got two legs that she uses to chase whatever thrilling experience she can. Another one of her wacky theories was that her 'true love's kiss' gave her the ability to shapeshift between her land and water forms whenever she wanted."

"Huh."

"All my siblings think she's crazy. The idea was tempting enough for awhile, though. Fiona had gotten real close to this sailor named Steve. He promised her the world and she believed him. But their bond wasn't enough to shift. Fiona was sure he was her soulmate. He still comes around sometimes. And then there's Debbie, who almost got killed trying to woo some girl at the port. I think my mother is just a hopeless romantic. But hope can be dangerous sometimes."

Mickey listened on to this story that sounded more like a children's bedtime story -- all this princess nonsense about a true love's kiss made him think that maybe this red-head was Ariel. He suppressed a laugh when he saw the worried look in Ian's eyes.

"Well whatever it is, she sounds pretty lucky."

Ian smiled softly, sadly. "Yeah."

"Hey," Mickey said gently. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay."

And with that, Mickey sailed his patchwork boat back to whatever wrath Mandy was about to unleash on him.

The door creaked as Mickey made his way into the apartment he shares with his sister. He was nearly tackled on sight.

"Mickey, what the fuck!" Mandy punched his shoulder before crushing him into another hug. "I was so worried about you, you little shit!" "Ow! Jesus, I'm alive. Would you calm your tits?!"

Mandy gave him one more punch for good measure, "Where the fuck have you been? Three days, Mikhailo Aleksandr, three days! Tell me you didn't get that bitch up at the other port pregnant. I'm not taking in anymore rug rats."

"Bad storm. Boat wreck. And ya know what," Mickey threw his hands into the air, "I wish I would have got someone pregnant. Instead, I was stranded at sea, so maybe be a little bit nicer to me?"

"Fuck." She slumped a bit, "How did you manage to get back? Did you call one of your pirate buddies?"

"Jesus Christ, Mandy. I'm not a pirate -- even though they are dope as fuck, by the way. I just so happen to have a few brain cells -- something you don't know anything about."

Mandy rolled her eyes, "Competent enough to sail straight into a storm, huh?

Mickey flipped her off, "Good to be home, sis."

Mandy smiled, "C'mon, I'll make you some real food. I'm sick just thinking about you surviving off fuckin' jerky for half a week."

-- Mickey picked up a couple shifts at Mandy's bar the next week and a half to make up for three days of lost produce and another week for the time it took to properly fix his boat. He trusted Ian's magic mud well enough, but he didn't want to push his luck.

He wore short sleeve button-ups when he was bartending. He didn't have the comfortable luxury of built in inner pockets like with his fishing overalls, so he sewed his own. He couldn't stand the idea of not having his lucky stone close to his heart.

One night while he was slinging drinks, he mind at sea, he felt the stone grow hot and hotter. Fuck! It nearly burned his skin. He took it out from its pocket tossing it back and forth between his hands. It was glowing again. He felt nauseous. This had to mean Ian was in danger, right? Like last time in the cave? He wasn't on the island. He didn't have some magic pathway leading him exactly where he needed to go. What if he didn't get there in time?

He must have looked as insane as he felt because he felt a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Mick, take a fifteen."

"Got it." Mickey headed out back. Mandy would assume he was just having a smoke. But he ran. He hoped to hell that he was on the right track. The stone glowed brighter so he took that as a good sign.

He was out of breath as he rounded the corner and ended up at the docks. The stone's glow died down and it grew cold. Something was very wrong. What the fuck?

"Ian!" He probably looked like a psychopath screaming at the sea. Maybe he wasn't far from it.

This was the dock his boat was usually parked at. He was on his way to his old spot. Maybe--

A flash of red caught his eye in the dark water. No fish that red was ever this close to shore. His stomach crumbled. Oh my God, Ian.

Mickey dropped to ground, trying to get a better look at what was wrong. Wrapped in fishing nets was Ian, his skin a sickly shade of blue that wasn't from the moonlight.

Mickey made quick work of the fishing net with his pocket knife, careful not to cut Ian's slightly cold body. Was he too late? He couldn't be too late. He was here now. Everything would be fine.

Tapping into the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Mickey heaved Ian's large body onto the dock planks. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing at least.

"Ian. Ian, look at me. You're safe now, okay?" Mickey turned around, making sure he was alone. Luckily, no one was out at the water this time of night. Mickey pulled Ian's head into his lap and brushed his fingers through Ian's hair. Fuckin' finally. It was soft. So soft. "Hey, Red, wanna hook me up with whatever conditioner you got under the sea?" He laughed at himself to keep from crying.

Ian murmured something, lips barely parting.

Mickey stopped his caresses, "What was that, Mumbles?"

"Said you're a dumbass." Ian repeated. It was quiet, but his sass rang through. He was alive alright.

"I know." Mickey smiled for real this time. He placed a gentle kiss on Ian's forehead near his hairline. Ian's eyes fluttered open as they held each others' gaze.

They were distracted when Mickey's stone glowed bright again. Probably brighter than it has ever been before. The color shifted from it's usual green ember to resemble more of an icy blue. The boys watched as it began to shake on the ground -- where Mickey had dropped it when he spotted Ian's body. The stone continued to vibrate violently until it burst. Green and blue specks of light joining the stars in the sky above them. Mickey was so entranced by the light that he didn't notice when something else began to shift.

Ian's shimmering red-orange tail was replaced by two, long, freckled legs. Ian's eyes grew wide as he hit Mickey's arm.

"The fuck you hitting me for -- holy shit."

"Maybe my mom wasn't crazy."

"Maybe not." Mickey traced Ian's new legs with his fingertips. "How do you feel? Pretty big change, champ."

"It feels right... which is weird." Ian concluded after a moment, wiggling his toes.

"You're weird, so it makes sense." Mickey nodded, like it was obvious.

Ian rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

Mickey cocked his head as his lips upturned into a smirk, "Make me."

Mickey had expected Ian to still be chilled from the water, but he wasn't. He was warm and soft. So there they stayed, tightly wrapped in each others' arms under the dancing green-blue stars and the sound of gentle waves knocking into boats.

It was safe to say that Mickey had entirely forgot about returning to his shift at the bar that night. They had decided to sneak Ian into Mickey's room before the fishermen got their early start on the day ay the docks. It was still dark when they slowly opened his apartment's front door, knocking into each other and trying not to laugh at their bizarre situation.

Mandy flicked on the larger kitchen light, ready to give her brother an ear-full for leaving her alone to serve the bar creeps all night when she noticed he wasn't alone. He was accompanied by a tall, gorgeous, red-headed man, who appeared to only have eyes for her brother, not even noticing her presence.

"I thought you said you didn't have any bitches?" Mandy said, hoping to burst them out of their little bubble.

Mickey mumbled a quiet fuck under his breath. And surprisingly, Ian was the first to speak up, "Uh, you must be Mandy? I'm Ian. I'm uh- just visiting town."

"Mhm, whatever you say. Mick, next time, at least tell me when you're ditching work for a booty call, yeah?" She said after an appreciative glance Ian's way, bumping Mickey's hip as she walked past them to her room down the hall.

"Oh, work. Yeah, my bad." Mickey had genuinely forgot. Something about soulmates kind of clouding his judgement.

"Pasta's on the stove -- goodnight, dumbass and company!" She called before slamming her door closed.

Ian erupted into a fistful of giggles, "So much for sneaking in, huh?"

"Whatever, do you want some pasta, or are you sticking straight to cannibalism and orange peels?" Mickey teased.

"I'll have whatever you're having, stud." Ian squeezed the back of Mickey's neck.

After their late night/ early morning pasta, they had curled up in Mickey's bed, facing each other in silence, their eyes saying all the words that they didn't need to say out loud. Until-

"Fuck!" Ian's abrupt comment startled Mickey, even causing a hitch in Mandy's snoring in the next room over. Softer, he continued, "Your lucky stone, Mick. It's gone." He looked sad. He wanted to fix it.

Mickey brought his hand up to Ian's cheek, brushing it softly. "I don't need it, man. I have you."

Ian covered Mickey's hand with his own, then brought their hands to his lips, kissing each of Mickey's tattooed knuckles gently, like they held the secrets of the universe. Mickey smiled.

"I am the luckiest man in the world." And he was.

#i’m not a writer but i wrote this #i'm really excited about this one tbh. it's my first like true au and !! mermaid !!#also title is from ariel lmao #shameless #gw2021 #ian gallagher #my posts #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #shameless au #gallavich au #gallavich week 2021 #gw2021day2

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sophi-x-sims · 2 years

Photo

the summer palace (interior p.4)

we’re moving upstairs! rooms from left to right: the king’s apartment (floor 1), the king’s apartment (floor 2, pics 2-4), the king’s apartment (floor 3, pics 5-6), and the last three are Ariadne's room/dressing room.

next part (p.5) we’ll finish up with some servants rooms/areas, and various cool hallways. the rest of the many, many rooms are bedrooms, and I won’t actually decorate all of those, it would get pretty repetitive + I don’t need them all. I do plan to do some more outdoor builds soon, though, so stay tuned! (greenhouse, park, garden-ish lots.) (I mean, there may be a part 6 but I doubt I’ll do it within the next few weeks time. definitely a possibility as some rooms I will only finish as necessary.)

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 build #ts4 build #sims 4 screenshots #ts4 screenshots #regine

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wincore · 4 years

Text

sweet tooth | dong sicheng

pairing: vampire!sicheng x reader

words: 2.8k

summary: out of all the inconveniences a vampire boyfriend could pose, there’s about two tonight: a) him losing it at the next person who compliments his fangs, or b) you losing it at sicheng’s 100% blood alcohol content

genre: vampire!au, boyfriend!au, college!au, (tooth-rotting) fluff, comfort, humour

warning(s): mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, college halloween parties

song rec(s): candy - baekhyun // wish you were sober - conan gray

a/n: let’s pretend it’s halloween pls <3 also im sorry it’s so short and more drabble-ish but i wanted to write something gentle and comforting so!!! yeah ^^ also there is no plot. eep.

It’s two in the morning.

Or rather, it feels like two in the morning.

A frat party is a horrible substitute for an actual Halloween party. The alcohol content is through the roof and the number of pairs making out is enough to make you feel queasy. You never knew horror themes had the innate ability to make people so flagrantly horny—you’re half glad you’re not, god forbid, single. Most of your friends were too busy, however, to organize the close-knit party you usually have each year—so here you are, with an invitation from a friend of a friend (of a friend). Your boyfriend might be the only one feeling more out of place than you are.

You glance at Sicheng from the pool table, the cup frozen against his lips while his eyes scan the room from corner to corner. You don’t do crowds and neither does he; though he does have the unwitting ability to charm any crowd he’s in. You’re not quite sure if he’s still unaware of that.

You watch as a girl you can easily recognize from your campus approach him, all smiles and giggles. She says something and you scoff, almost completely certain about what it is she said.

Sicheng might be unaware of it—but you are, and painfully so.

She looks at him starry-eyed and the scent of rum wafting around her. A part of her jacket is off her shoulder, a faint blush covering her cheeks that you can spot even under the dim lights. She’s definitely flirting—you know that because rumours go around faster than assignments in this university. Choi Joohee has a very public, very open crush on your boyfriend.

It’s not like it bothers you. Not at all.

Just a little bit.

Jealousy has never been your thing and you’re half certain what you’re feeling isn’t even jealousy—just a taste of alcohol and the proximity of a Halloween house party.

Speaking of which, the only thing harrowing about this place is the amount of alcohol everyone seems to be consuming—including your boyfriend. Ten dragged Yukhei home a while ago and a part of you is still not confident enough to handle a boyfriend with very pointy fangs and midnight cravings for blood (or juice, as Ten disgustingly phrases it).

Sicheng nods along to something Joohee asks, an eyebrow raised quizzically on her and you assume he’s been zoning out the whole time. The urge to laugh surfaces and you swallow it whole. He’s so cute, even in this state. The lights dance across his face; candy blue, rich purple, saccharine red. The colours don’t help him stand any straighter, or slur his words any less.

You think it’s time to help your boyfriend out. However, the moment you walk through the swarms over to them, Joohee’s face sours. Of course, as the only competition (is it a competition if you’ve already won?) to the object of her affections, you don’t rank too high in her books. It made you a little upset at first, but you got used to it. (“She’ll get over it,” Sicheng had reassured several times. “Don’t worry.”)

People grow, and with that thought, you let it be.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Joohee tells Sicheng and walks away, like he’s supposed to follow her.

You roll your eyes and turn to Sicheng, who’s had a very delayed response to Joohee’s departure. His head is tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded and you’re almost afraid he’s going to drop to the floor right there and then. This is bad. The thing about vampires is that they absolutely should not, under any circumstance, have alcohol. Calling your boyfriend a lightweight is beyond an understatement.

“Sicheng,” you call softly.

He turns to you, taking a moment to process, before pulling his lips into a wide smile. His fangs poke out even when he presses his lips back together, a contemplatory look over him.

“I thought you left me here.” He forces a sardonic smile.

Drunk off his ass and Sicheng still manages to be annoyingly sarcastic.

You open your mouth and close it again. It’s not like you can chide him without letting your fondness show. The Adonis features that grace his face don’t help. Flushed all the way to the neck, a drunk Dong Sicheng is very rare. The last time this happened must have been at least two years ago (and though you weren’t there then, the way Ten and Kun freeze up at the slightest mention, you decided to not ask).

“Why did you drink?” you ask, huffing. “You can’t even smell alcohol.”

There’s a short pause.

“Because you were ignoring me,” he replies, leaning in.

Heat washes into your cheeks. You forgot how unrestrained he gets with alcohol in his system.

Sicheng seems to have enough consciousness left in him to feel somewhat embarrassed, standing up straight and fiddling with his thumbs. You slip your hand into his without delay and pull, trying your best to navigate through the crowd. Is an ordinary Halloween party too much to ask for? Just when you can finally spot the front door, Sicheng stops abruptly, making you stumble backwards into his chest. He smells like the old deodorant he’s been using for a year underneath the smell of beer and… is that blood?

“Where are we going?” he asks sharply.

“Home, Sicheng,” you whine. “You can stay in my bed.”

He stays rooted in place stubbornly, and you wonder what it is now. This is the time you have to wonder if you’re dating a (potentially) immortal creature or a recently birthed baby.

“We should enjoy more. You’ve hardly smiled the past few weeks,” he mutters.

Your heartbeat spikes for a moment, when he brushes the hair from your face. All this time and he hasn’t changed the words he offers to you in private, the care on his lips and fingertips. A room full of people who aren’t listening is the best place to talk.

The first time you saw Sicheng was in the middle of the night, in the dark hallway of your shared apartment building, blood staining his jaw from a bag he’d acquired from med student Wong Kunhang. (You’re very sure that’s illegal.)

Needless to say, you’d fainted immediately after. When you came to, you were met with a man with pretty eyes and fangs poking out his mouth and in a bed that wasn’t yours. There was no blood this time but you screamed anyway, cut off by the man’s hand over your mouth.

“Calm down,” he said, voice surprisingly deep. “It’s not like I’m going to kill you.”

“You were planning to kill me?” you asked, panicking.

“I just said I wouldn’t,” he replied quietly, eyes wide and almost as stressed as you are.

Sicheng heaves a sigh, massaging his forehead. You shake yourself off the memories, tugging at his shirt so you can sit somewhere at least. The alcohol must have numbed his ears too. The low R&B tunes make no sense on Halloween night; even less when they’re played a few bars above the acceptable volume. If you’re not out of here soon, you might lose your hearing altogether.

The couch is slightly less stinky than you would have expected. (You grimace as you think to the last time you were at a frat party and in particular, the vomit.) Beside you, Sicheng mumbles about something you’re not quite sure of, a quiet rant with one-track emotions. It makes you giggle and for a moment, you forget the predicament of being stuck with a drunk vampire boyfriend who has just finished teething.

“Hey, guys.”

You look up to see Jihoon, the very friend of a friend (of a friend) who had invited you to this mess. It’s not like you harbour ill feelings towards him; but the guy has approximately zero ability to read the room. It’s mostly funny.

Sicheng makes a vague gesture that you assume means ‘hello’, sitting up straight so he doesn't look noticeably tipsy. You make light conversation with Jihoon, Sicheng’s arm around your waist tightening reflexively. You don’t plan on party-hopping, no matter how much Jihoon urges the two of you—seriously, does he not see the look on Sicheng’s face? He looks more zombie than vampire.

“You know, you don’t actually have to wear costumes for this, right? We didn’t set a theme,” Jihoon remarks, tilting his head to face your boyfriend. “The fangs are really cool, though. Holy shit. Dude, they look so real.”

Sicheng’s lips twitch but he forces them into a smile, trying to move as far away from Jihoon as possible. The fangs are usually not out and about in the open, slightly retracted during the day. The night, however, keeps him on edge. Sicheng hates the spotlight that only ever shows up for the wrong reasons, and he’d much rather graduate without having to deal with horny vampire-lovers. (It’s not that sexy; and you know from experience.)

The way Sicheng looks makes you wonder how many people have pointed out the fangs tonight. You purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing.

“Thanks,” he responds, voice his usual deep baritone.

Jihoon leaves after being unable to draw any more conversation out of Sicheng, some peace gracing you despite everything.

If you ever write a book on how to deal with vampire boyfriends, the first rule would be to never kiss him at night. The fangs are not as withdrawn then and they hurt. (The second is, of course, to never let them get a whiff of alcohol.)

When Sicheng first kissed you, it was midnight and you were at the convenience store to buy a few lunchboxes and instant coffee mix. You’d yelped when his fang had pricked your lower lip, alarming the worker and around fifteen minutes of (dishonest) explanation later, the two of you had left without buying what you came for.

After fretting for a while, Sicheng had kissed you once more with careful consideration—till the damn fangs got in the way again. It was sweet for a moment—like candy—though, the metallic taste of blood had invaded it afterwards. No matter how awkward or painful it was, your elation outweighed the rest.

Kisses weren’t the only thing interrupted by fangs.

The turtlenecks and scarves certainly raised an eyebrow in your circle of friends. There was concern at first, then teasing and then a whole lot of inside jokes which made you want to smack each and every one of them. (“They’re hickeys, I swear, not vampire bites,” you had informed Ten. “Ew. I did not need to know that.” “Shut up.”)

Even so, Sicheng is warm—always has been, and not on the skin.

You feel pressure on your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck and you adjust yourself so it’s more comfortable.

“Tired?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

You shake your head at his lie. Gently pushing his head away, you get up from your seat and pull him up with all of your strength. Linking your arm through his, you smile at him when he raises an eyebrow. It’s time to get home, you’ve decided and these are times when one vote is enough.

When you reach the front door, stumbling out with your suddenly talkative boyfriend, the autumn breeze hits you. Under the moonlight, the rosy hue over his cheeks is clearer and even more so when he smiles.

“It’s like our first date,” he says.

You smile back at him.

“You were so embarrassing,” he adds.

Your smile drops and you smack his arm, eliciting a soft complaint from him.

Your first date was the only normal thing in this relationship—a date at the amusement park on Halloween, a bunch of kids mistaking your now boyfriend for Count Dracula and caramel popcorn smeared over your fingers.

Sicheng sighs, lowering his head to rest his forehead against your shoulder. The two of you stay like that for a moment or two, the party music finally fading and Sicheng’s warmth seeping into you. You fix the lapels of his jacket absentmindedly, fingers tracing over the material. His hands rest lightly against your back yet still secure.

A kitten lick at your neck jolts you back to reality. You gently push him by the shoulders, finding his fangs bared already. He stays unmoving for a few seconds before closing his mouth and going back to leaning against you, breath falling in waves against your neck.

“I’m not your juicebox, Sicheng,” you snap, frown deepening.

“But you have so much blood,” he mumbles, his forehead hot against your shoulder.

“Sicheng.”

He sobers up a little, pulling back with a stream of pouting apologies. You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling. Despite everything, your boyfriend is such a child sometimes. There’s a short pause.

“But wait, don’t go biting someone else’s neck,” you quickly add, flustered.

Sicheng suppresses a smile.

“So I can have a little—”

“No.”

Sicheng pouts but agrees enough to follow you, the two of you moving soundlessly over the sidewalk. Being alone with him has always been easing; you don’t need a crowd for comfort.

With fingers interlaced, you walk alone with him as the orange street lights cast shadows on the buildings lined up. A few more blocks and you’ll reach your apartment, get to push Sicheng into bed and pray he doesn’t throw up at your front door—and yet still, you walk as slow as you can as if the autumn wind will be gone as quick as it arrived.

The number of people shrink the further you get from the party, and you heave a sigh of relief, glad to be away from, what you and your friends call, the rich neighbourhood. The familiar path to your apartment, no matter the pricing, has much better air to breathe in. It’s past midnight and yet, you can see the city lights in the distance, the ones that never sleep—for the living or the dead.

Something runs into your legs and you jump onto Sicheng, who in turn flinches away with a strangled yelp.

You look down to see a giant golden retriever in a white blanket which you assume is meant to be a ghost outfit. It wags its tail, sniffing around your boyfriend’s legs, making him giggle as he crouches down to pet the creature.

“I’m so sorry!”

You look up to find a young girl holding a pumpkin almost as large as her head, an apologetic look over her head. Some part of you is happy to see a costume, considering you were robbed of yours. (Sometimes you dream of matching costumes but again, the damn fangs.)

“Piri loves people, I’m so sorry if he bothered—oh hey dude, cool fangs.”

Sicheng offers the fakest smile ever, accompanied with a thumbs up gesture. You sigh, apologizing to the girl before parting ways.

“That’s the eighth time tonight,” Sicheng says, scowling almost. “I counted.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. Calm, relaxed Dong Sicheng tends to lose it at repetitive comments with only three sips of beer.

When you reach the apartment building, clouds cover the moon and you draw your jacket closer to yourself. You think for a moment about the inevitability of time and whether you’re even allowed to fall in love this way. You push the thoughts aside almost inevitably. When the time comes, you will have a decision to make—and after everything, it is love which turns people.

For now, you can enjoy this Halloween night with your (literally) one-of-a-kind boyfriend.

You fumble around with the keys, Sicheng looking at you with sleepy eyes as he leans against the wall. He must be worn out from the alcohol by now.

“Hey,” he calls, the words more muffled than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, tugging him inside all the while maintaining your balance.

“You know my favourite blood type?” he continues.

You shake your head. “If you’re thinking of feeding, I’ll get some blood bags from Kunhang.”

Sicheng pouts. “You ruined the line.”

“Huh?”

“Yours. Yours is my favourite blood type.”

Despite the terrible execution of his so-called pick-up line, you find yourself shaking with laughter. You’re not sure if it’s the late night or the October air—the two of you share the silliest of laughter at the doorway to your apartment.

Within the moment itself, Sicheng leans in to kiss you and your hands move to run through his hair out of habit. The taste of beer and the prick of his fangs makes you pull away. You look at each other for a moment before you give in anyway and kiss him against the doorframe.

October ends with memories—your first date, Sicheng’s cooking disaster, and now this. It’s blissful for the few moments the two of you let it be. That is, until Sicheng opens his mouth.

“Oh, by the way, can you apologize to Ten for me? I think I bit him thinking it was you.”

“Sicheng, what the fuck?”

October ends with proximity, sweet as candy and warm as toast—stumbling into bed with all that and more.

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fluffymisha97 · 3 years

Text

Falling, Fallen - Part 3 - 1/2

Summary: The next date couldn’t possibly go as wrong as the first one.

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 3,512

About a week later, Chris had thought of everything. Had anyone asked him, he would say that he’d come up with a brilliant plan. Although he did ask Scott for advice in the beginning. The little brother was more than happy to help out. He could see how much it meant to Chris. Anything to help out a brother.

The day couldn’t and wouldn’t end as badly as your first date. That was something Chris had decided on. He’d texted you on Wednesday asking if you’d plans for the weekend. Luckily, you didn’t have any plans. Chris decided on taking you out Saturday around noon. You were both excited for your date and none of you could hardly wait.

When Saturday came, you’d been waiting by the window looking down the parking spaces in front of your building. A car honk was all you needed to know that he’d arrived. He waited by his car as you came down the stairs inside the apartment building. You smiled as you spotted Chris outside. You briefly heard Abby yell out something a la ‘have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t’. You stepped outside in the cold breeze and walked towards Chris.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Chris awkwardly went back and forth between going for a hug or a handshake. It ended up being a very odd handshake with a halfway sided hug. Chris cringed inside. Great start. You hadn’t given it much thought and stuffed your hands inside the warmth of your

“So, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise for now.”

“Exciting… Although I should probably be a little more cautious when getting into a car with someone I don’t know all that well. Stranger danger and everything.”

Chris flashed you a smile as he opened the door for you.

“It’s a good thing that you know me a little bit then?”

“We’ll see. Hopefully you aren’t an axe murdering movie-star.”

“Nope, just me.”

You climbed into the already warm car and buckled up. You watched as Chris took a few long strides around the car and then gracefully getting in. He smiled at you as he typed in an address on the GPS. You fiddled with your hands as you prepared yourself mentally for what the day would bring.

“Besides think about all the work murdering me would bring you. I mean disposing the body, cleaning the crime scene and so forth on.”

“Yeah, that does seem like a lot of work. Plus, I’ll probably end up unraveling the truth about the murder anyway.”

“Aww, that makes me feel a little bit better. I think.”

Chris laughed with you. It felt like you were trying to break the ice for him. The two of you chatted non-stop as the radio hummed in the background. It was insane how easy it was to talk with Chris. He talked and then listened at all the right moments. He mostly listened to you wanting to know everything about you. He enjoyed hearing your voice. It was a nice speaking voice and it turned out that you were also gifted with a nice singing voice.

Chris had given you his phone so that you could find some music. You shuffled through some of his many playlists and found one that made you smile.

“So, uh…Chris, tell me something… Are you a fan of Grease?”

“Well I…I… Depends on if you think it’s kinda loser-ish of me to have a playlist called ‘My Grease groove’.”

You could tell you made him nervous and self-conscious about a lot of things apparently. You pressed play and the tune of ‘Summer Nights’ filled the car.

“I happen to love Grease.”

Chris breathed out in relief as he saw your smile out the corner of his eye. You softly sang along to many of the songs and Chris mostly listened and hummed along every now and again.

The drive lasted about 45 minutes which flew in a hurry. Chris parked the car outside what looked like a hall. You dreaded it was a gym center or something like that. As you were getting out, Chris who’d opened your door held up a blind fold which made you narrow your eyes a bit.

“Okay now seeing where we’re…I’m beginning to circle back to the ‘what if’. What if you’re an axe murdering person?”

“Only kidding. C’mon.”

Chris smirked at you and gestured for you to walk ahead. You scanned the place for any signs that would tell you where you were. Mostly because you were so curious to see where you were going.

“So, Y/N. you’re probably wondering what we’re to do out here, yes?”

You nodded your head as Chris continued walking towards a backdoor entrance. He opened the door for you and as you got inside you started to realize just where exactly you were. Or what kind of place it really was. Chris came to stand in front of you with arms wide as he gestured to the room. He sported a very happy face as he watched you.

“What’s your take on Ice skating?”

“The sport genre or my ability to do it?”

“What do you think?”

“Well, I’m probably pretty decent at it but-…”

You and Chris were interrupted by a hoarse voice behind you. An elderly man appeared as you turned around.

“Mr. Evans, I got the rink ready for you and your date. If you’d follow me- Oh, I’m going to need your shoe size, Miss.”

You told him your size and followed the two men leading you to a skating rink. All ready and polished. You felt giddy inside. But something was off. Chris, the man called Sal, and you were the only people in the room.

“Hey, did you rent this entire place?”

“Well…not the entire place just this rink.”

You were completely baffled at this. Never had anyone done something like that for you. Sal came back with two sets of ice skates and gave them to you and Chris.

“Thanks a lot Sal. I’ll be sure to tell my sister to book her son’s birthday party out here.”

“You do that, son. Remember: Sal’s skates is for everyone all shapes, sizes and ages. Now, you two go and have fun.”

You giggled hearing the sales pitch Sal shouted out enthusiastically and sat down to put on your skates. Chris sat down next to you and put on his own. You were much quicker than Chris and already up on your feet when were still working on securing his first skate.

You carefully stepped onto the ice while holding onto the wall for ‘support’.

“So, when I said that I was decent on ice I should’ve probably elaborated.”

Chris looked at you puzzled as you leapt of the wall and started skating with pace and grace that clearly showed that you were no amateur. You skated a few rounds wanting to get warm and went right back the latch where Chris stood with a gaping mouth.

“I’m not just decent, I’m kind of great at skating.”

You bit your lip and offered the gaping Chris a nervous smile.

“Well okay then Tonya Harding.”

You could tell that Chris was still a bit in shock over your confession. It was clear that he hadn’t seen this coming.

“No, no. I’m nowhere near her. Brilliant lady but kind of insane the way things turned out.”

Chris let out a dry chuckle as he ventured out on the ice. He seemed a bit unsteady on his feet. You skated around in circles waiting for Chris to join you when a thought popped into your head. You moved back so you were in front of Chris.

“So, what was the idea or the plan of taking me out here?”

“Plan?”

“Yeah? I mean you must’ve given this some thought. Maybe you thought about taking me bowling but then you ditched that idea and came up with going ice skating. Maybe you assumed or hoped that I wasn’t that good at it? And that I would probably need to lean on you for support or that we would have to hold hands so I wouldn’t fall flat on my ass in front of you. That way we would’ve established the psychical contact… Tell me that wasn’t something you thought of while planning this?”

Chris cringed hard inside for the second time. Was he really that transparent? Had he lost his game and had become this mediocre halfway loser with absolutely no game? His nervous smile gave him away instantly.

“Nooo? Of course not.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you got the worst poker face?”

Chris looked down feeling dumb. You weren’t mad or offended. You hadn’t meant to make him feel like you were calling him out. Even though that’s what you’d gone and done. Now it was your turn to cringe inside. The sound of whistling made him look up.

“Are you going to stay over there or are you going to join me out here? The water’s fine.”

Chris nervously laughed as he moved further out on the ice still a bit wobbly. Chris started regretting his decision as he watched you skate around gracefully while he felt like an elephant inside a porcelain shop.

“C’mon, Chris. I’m sorry if I was a little too harsh but- I think it’s a shame not to take advantage of being here.”

“No it’s not that… I guess, I over- and underestimated this situation both you and myself. I wanted to do something outside the box and in the haste of wanting to get this day right I forgot how bad I really am at ice skating. That was that brilliant yet stupid plan right out the window.”

You giggled softly at the still wobbly Chris and inched closer to him slowly.

“Okay, okay. Maybe your plan is still doable but maybe not in the way that you’d hoped for. Here, take my hand.”

Chris stilled and looked at you.

“What?”

“Hold my hand, Mr. Bold. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Chris reached out and grabbed your smaller hand in his larger one. You started to move bringing Chris with you. The two of you skated in circles in a slow but comfortable pace. Chris smiled widely feeling confident and went to release your hand only to start wobbling a bit again. You could see Chris face falter. He quickly wrapped his arm around your waist with his right hand and the left hand found your still extended hand. Soon he felt himself being steadied. He breathed out in relief. You titled your head and smirked. He was now holding one of your hands and the other arm was wrapped around your waist.

“Now that was real smooth.”

“What?”

You couldn’t decide if he was truly a bit thickheaded to see his move clearly or if he had in fact been on his way to fall flat on the ice. You decided that it didn’t matter. Being that close to Chris wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not even close. Your right hand moved so that it rested on top of the hand on your waist. You saw Chris smile briefly out of the corner of your eye. The two of you went a few rounds like that. It was no secret that both you and Chris enjoyed the closeness while skating. You tried calming yourself down knowing that this was only your second date and that you ought to chill out, like your friend Emmett would say. ‘Chill out girl, and relax.’

“So, tell me Miss ‘Harding’ did you ever do some professional skating or are you just this good all on your own?”

“I did very, very little when I was a kid but nothing worth writing about. But I guess I’ve just always enjoyed skating. I go a few times every year to keep on practicing. Lame I know.”

“Nothing about you is lame, Y/N.”

You shared a sideways smile as you picked up the pace skating in circular motions in the empty rink. Chris listened as you went on about things from your childhood and then asking him about his childhood. He told you about his siblings and the way that they were brought up. Just hearing about his family made you smile. It was clear to you that he came from a family filled with lots of love. His love for his mother shined through when he’d talked about her. You liked listening to Chris talking about everything and nothing. You enjoyed your conversations just as much as he liked them.

The two of you skated for some time. Truth be told, you’d lost track of time during the time you’d spent with him. You smiled at Chris who seemed to also enjoy himself on the ice. Chris started feeling a little more confident as he took the lead and picked up the pace. He even did a little cross with his feet. He looked very proud which only made him look all the more cute to you. He let go of your waist and readied himself for letting go completely. He gently let go of your hand and skated on his own. Chris flashed you a wide smile as he picked up the pace even further. A smirk even appeared on his face as gracefully skated past you in a circular move.

“Wow, look at you. Quick learner I see.”

“Yeah! Well, it’s like riding a bike I suppose. I guess, I was just a bit rusty-AHH!”

Just as he was showing off to you he lost his balance and fell right backwards. Your hands went up to cover your eyes as you saw the whole thing play out in slow motion. You heard a breathy groan which made you look at the scene before your eyes. Chris was lying on his back breathing hard as he raised his head to look at you. You went over to him and bent down to him.

“Chris! Oh my God. Are you okay?”

Chris didn’t answer you straight away and seemed to have trouble looking you in the eye. You instantly feared that he’d hit his head on the ice. You maneuvered so that you kneeled down on the ice and were leaning down to examine him closer.

“Hey look at me. How many fingers am I holding up? Do you know your name? Where you’re right now. Do you know who I am? Are you hurt anywhere-…?”

Your nervous rambling was caught off by Chris’ hoarse and breathy laugh.

“Depends. That was a whole lot of questions.”

You let out a breath of relief hearing him talk.

“My ego’s probably the most wounded…I had this horrible dream where I brought this great girl out here to impress her and only ended up botching this date because I got too cocky.”

You felt yourself smile at that. Chris leaned up on his elbows and pretended to look around as shock appeared on his face.

“OH no…It wasn’t a dream.”

He made a pouty face and looked down.

“Hey, you haven’t botched anything.”

“So, you don’t think I’m a transparent doofus?”

“Well, maybe you’re a little bit transparent but-…”

You sheepishly smiled at him as he let himself gently fall backwards on the ice with a groan.

“Just let me die here of humiliation and embarrassment.”

“God, you movie stars truly have a flair for the dramatics.”

Chris snorted at your comment but well knowing that you were absolutely right. You gently patted his arm making him look at you.

“C’mon, big guy. Up, up.”

You helped Chris upright with ease while still looking him over with worried eyes. He had just fallen quite hard.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yup, yup. I’m okay. Luckily my ass broke the fall.” “You want to go and sit down? Just for a while.” “Sure. Let’s do that.” The two of you slowly skated over to the latch door and Chris went out first. Chris sat down on one of the benches. You carefully went over and sat down next to him.

“So apart from falling flat on my ass in front of you just now, I hoped that you still liked it here.”

“I thought it was a great idea, Chris. Something outside the box.”

“Well, then I have a small plea for you. Or more of a question.”

You nodded your head at him.

“Could we pretend that this was our first date considering that our first was a bust? Clean slate and everything. Although I didn’t make a fool out of myself that other day so maybe it was a bad idea to even-…”

“Chris, it’s cool. This is officially our first date then.”

Chris gave you a grin thankful that you were on. This date had to be great. He wanted everything right to go right.

“Hey, what do you say we get out of here? Unless you want to go back on the ice. I mean we can go if you want to. You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“It’s all good, Chris. I think you’ve had enough ice time for now.”

The two of you took of your skates and went to clerk where you handed them in. Sal came over and quietly shook hands with Chris.

“I hope you kids had fun. It looked like it. I must say that you miss, looked like you knew exactly what you were doing. Say, have you ever done some competitively skating?”

“I did very little when I was a kid but nothing big.”

“You looked like you belonged on the ice. I think Mr. Evans would agree with me.”

Chris only nodded in awe which you felt was totally misguided. Your cheeks felt warm as you felt the two men staring at you. Chris shook hands with Sal while you were putting on your gloves.

“Thanks a lot for today, Sal. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You were getting ready to exit when Chris excused himself to go to the bathroom. You leaned against the counter as you waited. Sal remained behind the counter as he arranged some papers or so.

“So tell me Sal, did you really let him rent an entire hall because he’s famous or?”

“Tell you what, I’ve known him for some time and I would’ve probably let him anyway. That guy’s a good young man. He’s decent that’s for sure.”

“So, he’s brought other girls here too or what do you mean, Sal?”

“Naah, I’ve only ever seen him here with his family. He’s a family man no doubt.”

Sal winked at you and went to answer his phone ringing in his pocket.

Chris came jogging over to you and gestured for you two to walk outside again. As you reached his car, you gave Chris a questionable look.

“Are you sure that you’re okay to drive? You did fall pretty hard…”

“Yeah, I’m fine but if it makes you feel better then-… Here.”

Chris tossed you his car keys. You let out a small gasp.

“Wait- you would let me drive your car just like that?”

“Sure. Unless you would rather not to-…”

“Nooo, it’s all good.”

You grinned and practically jumped over to the driver’s side. Chris chuckled at your enthusiastic laugh and got in the passenger’s seat. You buckled in and started the car. It was defiantly something else than your own. Chris typed in the new address for your next destination. Then you were off to God knows where. Still you’d never felt more safe with Chris by your side.

The drive was about 30 minutes or so, Chris pointed to an exit where the two of you switched places.

“I wanted to keep going with the element of surprise.”

You didn’t mind and Chris seemed very okay to drive. Although he only drove for about maximum of 5 minutes before he’d parked by what looked like field. Chris had beaten you to open your door, he gently grabbed one of your hands and led you closer to wherever you were going.

“Close your eyes.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly but did as he’d asked.

“Tell me what you smell now.”

“Smell, what do you mean?”

“Just go with me on this. Try to take a deep whiff.”

Again, you did as he told. Inhaling, you could suddenly smell all kinds of smells. Confused, you found yourself inhaling like an asthmatic snail.

“Okay maybe I’m way off here, but I smell cotton candy and popcorn but aren’t we out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Well, yes and no. You’re in fact right, cos if you open your eyes you’ll find out just where we’re right now.”

Slowly you opened your eyes and discovered that you were now standing at by the entrance of a funfair or something that looked like a Carnival. You couldn’t hide your shocked state nor excitement. You were definitely liking where this was going. Chris beamed as he watched your happy face as it lit up.

Tag list:

@patzammit

@Chris-butt

@castellandiangelo

@harrysthiccthighss

@tantricevans

@katiew1973

@denisemarieangelina

@pinkdiamond1016

@missswriter

@arabescapr

@liquorlaughslove

@chaneajoyyy

@sunflowercaptain

@ la-cey

@adoreyou976

@geminievans1

Tag list for Falling, Fallen series:

@commanderrykov

@ thatoneperson5000

@hockeychick10

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans series #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you

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all-the-names-are-taken-aaaaa · 4 years

Text

Gabriel not targeting Marinette for Good Reason AU

Gabriel was seething with anger as he replayed the video. "You mean to tell me Adrian never said anything because he was afraid I would pull him out of class?"

Nathalie sat down looking more tired then anyone had ever seen her. "It appears Miss Rossi also blackmailed him using your name. Since she had your favor she believed she could separate him from his friends with just a few words or at least had him believe that."

Gabriel tried to keep his breathing calm. "How much damage are we aware of?" Maybe he could at salvage a friendly work relationship with her.

Nathalie looked ready to tear out her hair in frustration. "Enough to make her leave Paris."

"WHAT" Gabriel slammed his hands down. How could that insolent little brat! Something had to be done soon.

"She is friends with Adrian still. Him finding out she was leaving is what caused the break down. Her and Chloe are leaving in two weeks. He doesn't know exactly were they are going though. And as far as specifics other than that video it would be easier to look at this folder." Nathalie hands him a folder full of things Adrian and Marinette had gathered as proof not that anyone seemed to listen.

"Contact Miss Rossi's mother. I do not care if you have to go to her work. She will be thinkfull we are warning her about the possible lawsuits. I'll personally fire her. And offer my lawyer to Miss Dupain-Cheng." Gabriel knows there is little chance of recovering from this without his company taking some sort of hit. Hell it could possibly go under if people decided it was his fault the girl was full of herself. He had warned Miss Rossi to be nice to her no matter were they interacted.

"Yes sir" Nathalie stood. Based off what Adrian said Lila had made sure it was near impossible to contact her mother. The easiest was would be to go to were she supposedly worked and hope Lila had told the truth about that.

"I am looking for Miss Rossi. It's an urgent. It's about her doughter" the girl sitting on the counter looked up wide eyed.

"Oh god" she muttered rushing out of the room. She returned quickly with a woman looking sickly pale.

"Is my doughter okay? Was it an akuma?" The woman- Miss Rossi asks franticly.

"Mama your daughter is physically fine but she has gotten herself and possibly you in a lot of trouble. Please take a look at these. There is a few videos as well." Nathalie explained letting the woman veiw the folder. The horror on Miss Rossi's face was clear.

"Are you from the school? One of the Celebrities?" Miss Rossi asks. Still looking through the folder.

"Miss? I am Nathalie Sancoeur. I am the assistant for Gabriel Agrest. You should have my number from when you signed the papers for Lila to model." Nathalie began to panic as she saw Miss Rossi's reaction.

"I never signed papers for that. She told me she and the rest of her class modeled on a field trip to the Agrest house..." Miss Rossi looked paler if that was even possible.

"No. She has been working for the Agrest brand for almost a year. There was never a field trip and even of there was we would have to have everyone's parents sign work permissions since they are minors. I'll have someone retrieve the papers so you may look at them" Nathalie explains pulling out her phone and sending a text.

"May I ask a few questions? What is this about travels?" Miss Rossi's horror turned to anger and disappointed slowly as things snowballed from there.

"Nathalie is everything okay? I am almost at the school." Gabriel had calmed. Still angry but calm ish.

"It appears Lila forged her mother's signature on all the paperwork for us. And lied about school. A lot. We will meet you at the school." Nathalie says.

"Yes please do" Gabriel had to take a moment to calm himself. This was not going to end well.

Gabriel stands in the court yard. Classes that had been let out a few minutes early stop and stare. As classes let out more people loitered. Interested why the famous man who was rarely seen was in their court yard.

"Dude your dad is here" Nino whispers to Adrian. Nino pats him on the back as they leave room. Marinette close behind them. The rest stay to hear Lila's latest story. Marinette and Nino wait with the rest of the kids in the courtyard.

"Father?" Adrian asks once he is closer.

"We are waiting on Miss Rossi and Miss Dupain-Cheng." Gabriel states. As Adrian moves to stand beside him. Marinette with Nino moves closer to the inner edge of the crowd but no closer. Gabriel spots her but says nothing

Lila leads her class too the courtyard. She gets excited upon seeing Gabriel believing she could play up her fame. She walks over "Mr. Agrest" she says politely "Do we have a photo shoot?" pointing to Adrian.

"No Lila. You will never have a photo shoot again. You will be lucky if you allowed to be near my son ever again" Gabriel says guiding Adrian behind him. Everyone becomes quiet with the exception of Alya who attempts to storm up there to defend her bestie but is stopped by Nino. Instead she livestreams believing her best friend's celebrity contacts will defend her.

"Lila Rossi you had a responsibility as one of my lead models. You knew the rules and chose to ignore them. Now I find out you forged you mothers signature. You could and probably will face many many definition lawsuits. Not to mention you threatened my son. You blackmailed my son. Your behavior towards my son is sexual hurassment. Do you understand that? Do you realize you took away a huge opportunity for yourself and the company by attacking her? And to post it. We found out because you posted it. Did you think we would not investigate? Did you not think we would contact your mother? Did you think your mother would cover for you? Did you think there would be no consiquences? Did you think you could lie your way out of this?" Gabriel fumed. Lila pales as she sees her mother enter the court yard. Thousands of people tuned in to the live stream. Miss Bustier and the principal come out ready to try and calm the situation only to be stoped by an angry woman.

"Why did you not contact me? You are responsible for Lila while she is here. How did she miss this much school without a single person contacting me. Falsely getting A student explained? A condition that makes her lie? Why didn't you fact check everything? How incompetent are you? How many students did she threaten? How much of this sort of thing is allowed at this school?" Miss Rossi goes off. "No! You contact that poor girl's parents so you can explain to them too. While you are doing that I'm calling Bridgette Chang(known member of the school board)."

"Anyone who has been threatened by Lila Rossi please come forward"Gabrial says. About ten students come forward. "We will be taking this too your office contact all of their parents" he says looking at Damocles.

Some of the students had to leave for after school activities but the parents were contacted.

During the meeting Lila became so enraged that she tried to attack Marinette for revealing her lies. Gabriel grabs her by the back of her shirt and pulls enough for her to fall back into her chair. "Miss Dupain-Cheng. I would like to offer my apologies I had no clue of Miss Rossi's behavior. May I offer you my lawyers?"

"Oh that won't be necessary. The Wayne lawyers are particularly suited to handle her and the tabloid writer" A young man states as he enters the room. "Damian!" Marinette yells running up too hug him "Angel" he says quietly hugging back.

"Is there anything I could do? I do not wish for conflict with your rising business?" Gabriel states. If possible more color drains from Lila's face at the realization Gabriel was serous about being as nice as possible to Marinette. "We are going on tour with Jagged and getting personal tutors. Could Adrian come with us? It would be a great learning experience and it would improve his social skills and your brands audience." Marinette asks.

Gabriel nods "I am sure we can arrange something." The entire room is shocked by today's events.

An investigation is launched on the school. The principal and Miss Bustier are fired. Alya has to give up the Ladyblog and do community service. Lila has to pay a lot of fines, do community service and is transferred to a school for troubled teens. Everything is on her permanent records tho. Those that cheared Lila on as Alya had her rip apart the sketchbook were grounded and forced by their parents to pay for the destroyed designs.

Luka, Kagami, Adrian, Chloe, Marinette, and Damian spent the next year traveling with Jagged. Paris sets up an alert system to contact the hero's. Each hero has a bracelet that buzzes if there is an akuma. Luka performing with him. Luka also has kaalki. Kagami teaching fencing in random schools close to were they were staying and improving her social skills. Adrian and Chloe model Marinette's designs as well as Agrest designs. Adrian practices social skills and takes acting classes with Chloe. Marinette expands the MDC brand. Damian proposes on stage after Jagged convinces Marinette to sing. That video went viral.

Hawkmoth winds up in a fight were Chat yells "why are you doing this" about a month into the tour. Once it is explained that it's for his wife. Marinette/ladybug reviels there is a way to heal her without killing someone else with a wish thanks to guardian powers. So Emilie Agrest stars in a movie with her son and Chloe two years later.

#alya salt #lila salt #marinette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #mlb salt #marinette deserves better #damian x marinette #maribat salt #lila exposed #miraculous fanfic #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous of salt #damian al ghul #damian #uncle jagged #jagged stone

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hoboal87 · 3 years

Text

Not Worth It

Title: Not Worth It

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 500-ish

Warnings: smagst, MOC!Dean

A/N: Requested by @lovealways-j ! I hope you enjoy it Sabrina! 😘

Requests are open! Drop me an ask =)

Dean was giving into the Mark, that much was clear. Sam, and Cas had been working tirelessly over the last week, searching desperately for a cure.

Cas explained that Dean had murdered not only Eli Styne, but the youngest boy, Cyrus, in cold blood. Dean wasn’t a murderer, he was a good man, and the fact that he had no remorse was most concerning of all.

Sam and Cas were determined to keep working and the three of you parted ways, they were going back to Rowena, and you needed to find Dean.

Luckily, the boys were predictable if you knew them, and you quickly found the Motel Dean was staying in. You knocked cautiously on the door, and heard a grunt from the other side.

“Go away, Sam,” Dean grunts, and you knock again. And again. And again. When Dean finally opens the door, he nearly pulls it off the hinges, and his expression changes from anger to shock.

“You shouldn’t be here, Y/N,” he growls. “Go home.”

“No, Dean,” you step into the doorway, stopping him from closing the door in your face. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Go away,” he grabbed at your arm aggressively, and you suspect there will be a bruise later. “I’m poison, you and Sam, you’re good, and whatever you’re trying to do, stop. Stop searching for a cure. I don’t want it.”

“Don’t do this, Dean. You’re not poison, you’re a good man–”

Dean whips you around, pulling you into the room, placing a hard kiss against your lips. A whirlwind of clothes are being ripped off as Dean moves you both towards the bed, his hands gripping at you roughly.

Dean’s enters you in a swift move, and starts fucking you hard. You wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to get deeper inside of you, his calloused hands wrap around your throat, creating just enough pressure to ground you, and roll your hips as you feel your orgasm building.

Dean flips you over, lifting your ass into the air, as you bury your head in the mattress, muffling your screams as Dean thrusts harder and faster.

“Fuck, Dean…” You murmur into the bedsheets. “Please.”

He doesn’t need any more than that, removing his hand from your waist to rub at your bundle of nerves. Dean knows how to play you like a fine-tuned instrument, knowing exactly what to do to get you exactly where he wants you.

“Dean!”

Dean works you through your orgasm, chasing his own high as you come down from your own. Every movement of his hips become impossibly harder, and with a final, almost violent thrust, he cums inside you.

Before you can even process another thought, Dean’s redressing, tucking himself away into his boxers.

“Stop looking for a cure, Y/N. I don’t want it,” he instructs as he pulls his shirt over his head. “And tell Cas that next time, I won’t miss.”

Before you can respond, Dean’s out the door, and possibly out of your life forever.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #moc!dean x reader #moc!dean #dean winchester #moc!dean winchester #smangst #alex writes #lovealways-j

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sxfik · 3 years

Text

and when the seasons change (will you stand by me?)

read on ao3 • main masterlist • law school masterlist

summary: when kang sol's mother has to work late, she has to take care of byeol. it's just her luck that she has an exam the next day, one for professor yang of all people. joon hwi, being the kind classmate he is, offers to study with her.

or: byeol is solhwi mastermind, and she's says everything we wanted to say to the two dummies.

request by anon: hiya! saw that you do solhwi prompts so I was thinking that Sol A has to babysit byeol but there's a big test the next day so she calls joon hwi over to help her w studying. meanwhile byeol(being iconic) tries to set them up in true shipper fashion.

a/n: this is based on a request i got on tumblr, pictured above! i have around 5 (ish) fics that will go out over the week so stay tuned for those lmao! uh yeah, i don't really know what else to say other than im really sad law school ended so i've just been sad and mopey, but still writing to fill that hole. as always, enjoy <333

Although Joon Hwi was the 'star' student of Hankuk Law School, he was never much for studying. It's not because everything came to him that easily, but because finding the strength to concentrate and study when he could be hanging out with his friends or doing anything better with his time was insanely tempting. Finding the effort to get to the library, and read up on his textbooks was arduous and he always found it easier to study by himself, no distractions around. This was, of course, until Kang Sol came along. For Joon Hwi, everything in his life was turned on its axis when she came into his life.

When he first met her, in Professor Yang's class, she was just the poor girl being grilled by the professor. His heart went out to her, watching her pull her hair out of the bun to avoid the question. He didn’t know what possessed him to answer for her, but he assumed it to be a one time thing. But from the moment she crashed into him yelling "Second Round Judicial Exam, save me!", he was stuck on her.

Slowly, she was everywhere in his life, from the study group to the legal clinic to a majority of his classes. Unlike so many of his classmates, who were by the book and generally clinical in personality, she was a fireball of energy and passion. In class, despite not being the best student, she would argue with so much passion and energy that it was impossible to win against her. It was fascinating, watching her connect and jump from case to case. She would throw herself into everything she believed in, which included defending him from the school and his uncle.

Joon Hwi has liked girls before, but he's never been so captivated and head-over-heels for anyone in his life. Love and dating seemed secondary, and he preferred to keep it out of his life until he reached his goals. You could call him selfish but he prefers to call it being focused on his goals. He's always had one goal in life, and it was to work with the law, whether as a judge or working as police or as a prosecutor.

Yet, if Kang Sol was in the room, his eyes were on her. Whether she was frustrated at him or teasing him or gleeful with him, he couldn't help but smile at her. If she was around, he was right by her side, making her laugh or cringe or annoyed.

So there he was, studying in the school library with Kang Sol. Professor Yang’s exam was right around the corner and unlike last time, he cannot miss the comma in the given case. Plus, he doesn’t even have the excuse of being accused of a murder this time, so both Sol and Joon Hwi were hunched over their books, pouring into the texts when Kang Sol’s phone blared loudly from her bag, startling them both.

Sol cringed as she dug around in her cloth bag, the classic dirty looks tossed her way by the sleep deprived students as she stood to leave the library and take the call. He buried himself back into the textbook, but the concentration was lost and he was more interested in the call she’d gotten than ins and outs of defamation laws.

Around 10 minutes later, Sol was speeding back to her chair, the phone clutched firmly in her hand. But Joon hwi could see her frustration from a mile away. Her face held that pout, her eyebrows furrowed and grumbling under her breath. It was adorable.

But he was worried, considering it was the day before the exam, Sol couldn’t afford to be distracted from her studies. He wasn’t blind to her struggles in school, but Joon Hwi never considered her lesser than him for not being able to pick up the concepts with speed.

Unlike him, and a majority of his classmates, she had passion and a heart when dealing with clients. He could see it in her mannerisms with clients in the legal clinic, patiently explaining the clause or the issues they might face to the client. She’s sympathetic to the max, always hearing out the client’s grievances before making a judgement on what they had done. She was exactly what the world needed: a sympathetic, patient lawyer that was willing to fight for the client, someone that they can cling to. He and every professor in the school knew it, but it seemed Sol was the only one who never realized how essential she was.

Suddenly, he felt himself getting up to gather his materials with her without a second thought, despite the confused look Sol shot him. He wasn’t sure what exactly possessed him to do it, but he knew that if she wasn’t there, he didn’t want to study at the library either. Grinning at her, he walked out, side by side until they were outside the quiet library. She paused in her tracks all of a sudden, taking him by surprise and he paused too, looking back at her, tilting his head in confusion.

"My mom needs to work late today, so I need to rush home and take care of Byeol," she looked up at him finally, her face apologetic. "I'm sorry, Joon hwi but I don't think I'll be able to study for the exam with you," she started to walk away, but he couldn't let her go that easily.

"I'll come with you," he offered, surprising himself, "I'll study with you. Plus, it'll be easier to take care of Byeol with two people than one, right?"

She paused, looking back at him, conflicted. Sighing, Joon Hwi stepped closer to her. "Come on, let's not keep her waiting. Shall we?" He was determined to keep her company, especially since she’d have less time to study since she’d have to take care of Byeol. It was easier this way, and I’d do this for any friend he told himself.

The ride there was slow and quiet, but not an uncomfortable one. They both walked in tandem, with their backpacks filled with everything they'd possibly need to study, and even the bus ride was peaceful, the two of them staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by them. Joon hwi sat beside her, rather than across from her like last time, just to save space on the bus. On the very empty bus they were riding together.

Days like this, where the air was heavy and humid, the earth preparing for a heavy rain, were the most comforting types of days. The air was still warm and humid, making Sol’s hair poof out slightly, her naturally wavy hair frizzing out of her bun. The feeling of her beside him, as if this was a regular ritual for both of them, brought a sense of content in his heart. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, whether it was the girl beside him or the past year’s chaos, but watching the trees and the traffic pass by them brought more peace to his life than ever.

The two made their way into the alleyway, where Joon hwi had once stood guard of when Lee Man Ho once lived, threatening her family. He's standing in front of Kang Sol's house behind her, holding her backpack in hand as she struggles with the keys.

Finally, finally, she gets the door open, and a figure zips by, crashing into Sol. Byeol’s arms wrapped Sol's waist, like the adorable sister she is. Sol stumbled back into him slightly at the sudden weight thrown onto her, but nonetheless, crouched to envelop her sister in a bone-crushing hug. Joon hwi couldn’t help but smile at the two sisters, their love for each other enveloping him

"Unnie!" she grinned up at her, "Did you bring him with you?" Her eyes were serious and wide as Sol opened her mouth to answer.

"Byeol-ah!" Joon hwi yelled out from behind Sol, peaking out to see the 8-year old grinning at him, much wider than she did at Sol. Ha!

"Joonhwi-oppa!" the girl squealed out, leaving Sol's grip to run to him. As she ran to him, he picked her up and twirled her in the air, the girl's giggles echoing through the small alleyway as the two greeted each other.

Sol, standing by the door, smiled faintly before calling out, "Come in, before either of you catch a cold!" Both of them filed in, incessantly chattering as if they hadn't seen each other in months, even though it had only been two weeks since Joon hwi had been by to take the two sisters out to the park.

"Oppa! Why did you come with Unnie?" Byeol asked, finally being set down inside the house, looking up at him curiously as Sol

"Ah, we have an exam tomorrow, so I'm here to study with her," Joon hwi replied.

"Good," the girl jumped onto the couch. "Unnie needs a lot of help," the girl quipped back, nodding her head solemnly, making her look a lot older than 8 years.

"Yah Kang Byeol!" Sol exclaimed, indignantly. Joon hwi chuckled at the two as Sol turned to him. "Here, we can work in the dining room," she moved to grab her backpack from him, stepping towards the dining room.

"NO!" Byeol yelled out at the both of them, her hand flying out to stop the two of them, "Unnie, you should work in your room instead! You know I'll be watching TV and obviously, it'd be too loud for you to focus," the girl rushed out, her doe-eyes a bit too wide, her voice a little too innocent. She is definitely plotting something, Joon hwi narrowed his eyes at her but she avoided the look, choosing to jump off the couch and walk towards them instead.

Before either of them could protest, the girl pushed the both of them towards, presumably, Kang Sol's bedroom. Sol awkwardly laughed at him, Joon hwi shooting her an amused look. They awkwardly stood in her room, Joon hwi avoiding her gaze and choosing to look at the walls instead. Her room here looked similar to the one she had back on campus. Her desk was stacked to the max, sticky notes lining the walls with old reminders and little notes of encouragement. It was neat, but brightly colored, which suited Sol so very well.

“Let’s get started shall we?” Sol finally said, clearing her throat, gesturing for him to set down his books. He obliged, sitting at her desk while she chose her bed. They both set up all their materials, the awkward silence shifting into a peaceful one, the two working themselves into a comfortable rhythm.

It had been almost an hour of straight studying, both of them regurgitating criminal codes and case precedents from memory. Joon hwi was sure that by this point that his mind was complete mush, and Sol was starting to wither, her eyes almost glazed over while she started into one of her casefiles. Her hair was a lot puffier than it was when they started. Turns out, Sol had a habit of ruffling her hair with her pencil each time she was confused or working herself too hard, which was often.

“Let’s take a break shall we? I’m going to get a glass of water,” he said, standing up and stretching his arms out, trying to put the two out of their misery. He yawned, the stiffness in his muscles finally noticeable when he stretched out. She nodded back to him, yawning and stretching out in her chair, before she picked up her phone to check some messages.

He walked out of her room and back to the living room, where byeol was still glued to her seat, her eyes on the TV playing some cartoon. Heading over to the dining table, he poured himself a glass of water with the pitcher, before heading back to check on Byeol.

“What’s this show called?” he asked her, taking a sip of the water while watching the show with her.

“Hm?” Byeol turned to him, “Oh, it’s this show about two kids who set out to find a treasure mapped out by their parents,” she explained, gesturing towards him to take a seat beside him. He obliged, opting to sit beside the girl, both their eyes glued to the screen. A few moments passed by, before the little girl turned towards him.

“You know, my sister’s favorite color is dark green. Not like emerald green, but forest green tinted with some dark blue,” Byeol said nonchalantly. Joon Hwi’s eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why the girl is telling this to him. “And, her favorite ice cream is this nutella infused one that you get down the street, closer to the town square. It’s been her favorite since she was little,” she continued, not giving his confusion any heed. The girl rapidly started telling him facts about her dear sister, all the while confusion took over his features.

“Joonhwi-oppa,” she squinted at him, pausing as her face grew serious, “You like my sister, don’t you?” He sputtered, choking and coughing out the water. “I knew it!” she excitedly squealed.

“Byeol, byeol, shh, you can’t let your sister know okay,” he brought a finger to his lips, his eyes alarmed. For an 8 year old, Byeol was surprisingly cunning and observant. She had managed to figure out what he had been struggling with for the past year after just a few short visits. They shared a look of understanding between the two, before the girl turned her attention to the show, leaving Joon Hwi walking back to Sol’s room. The Kang Sisters, he shook his head, laughing as he thought, what a perfect duo.

bonus

It had been almost 3 hours of studying together before Kang Sol realized that the sun had set outside, and all of a sudden, they were in a rush to clean up. Joon hwi had to leave before the dorms closed entrance and because of their studying, the two of them had their head buried in books since the time they got to her house.

She was glad to have him over though. Despite her hesitation at the school and fears of inconveniencing him, having Joon hwi made the process a lot smoother. With his careful and gentle help, she had a much easier time understanding the concepts and she was eternally grateful, considering Professor Yang’s exams were always some of the toughest.

They were rushing out of the house, his backpack in her hand as he hurriedly put on his shoes and stepped outside the house. But before Joon hwi could turn with a hurried goodbye, she called out to him, her breath suddenly lodged in her throat.

“Thank you,” she quietly told him, the prospect of looking into his eyes as he leaned over her doorstep daunting. “Thank you for helping me, Joon hwi, it was really kind of you,” she beamed at him, trying to convey her gratitude and more in the only way she knew possible.

They both paused, looking at each other as the air got thicker between them, as if a string was drawing him closer to her. She watched as he swallowed slightly, his adam’s apple moving slightly before he let out a soft “You’re welcome,” and a classic smile, before he rushed out, trying to catch his bus.

She sighed, watching him as he rushed off, capturing the bus. Soon, she thought, Soon, I’ll tell him how I feel. She reassured herself, turning around only to find Byeol hiding behind a pillar.

“Byeol? What are you doing, weren’t you watching a show?” she questioned her sister, but Byeol made no response. Suddenly her sister frowned at her, muttering something about how can she possibly be a lawyer and she’s so blind, leaving her in utter confusion at the front steps.

#law school jtbc #jtbc law school #law school #law school kdrama #law school netflix #jtbc #jtbc drama #solhwi #mine #my writing #fanfiction #kang sol a #kang byeol #han joon hwi #ryu hye young #kim beom #kim bum #i’m not gonna lie i’m not extremely happy with this one but i really struggled to incorporate the scenes i wanted to have so it felt very #repeatitive

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soulmate-game · 3 years

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Okay, so here’s the story. Let’s rewind to 2010/2011. (Actually, it might be closer to 2008... you get the point) I’m a seventh grader in middle school, that’s the important part. And up until this point, I was pretty heavily bullied in middle school. My entire science class once yelled profanities and called me names all at the same time, when we had a substitute once. Like, I went through the whole fake friendship narrative, people calling me ugly at every available moment, people trying to frame me, etc etc.

BUT! I was also somehow that one person that everyone knew. Sometimes the rest of the school, no matter what grade level they were in, knew things that happened to me or things that were said to me almost before I did. It seemed like everyone was constantly aware of my whole life, it was kind creepy ngl. People would, on a weekly basis or more, walk down the hallway and say, “hey (my name)” and wave. I almost never knew who those people were, they were usually in a different grade and I hardly ever shared any classes with them. It was really confusing.

Well, by the time seventh grade came I was absolutely boiling for revenge. I was never a physical fighter, especially considering that it seemed the whole school was against me, so I was on the lookout for anything I could do to ruin the day for my emotional abusers. And then it happened.

I was in GT (the gifted and talented class— don’t be fooled, it was basically just theater kids. The majority of the test to get into GT was creativity based) and we were working on some project or another. I think we were in the middle of trying to make functional chairs out of nothing but old cardboard boxes and hot glue. And one of my friends let’s it slip that the golf club she was in was doing a fundraiser, but their sales were low as hell and they were scared they wouldn’t make enough to afford their supplies for the season. Considering the golf club was less than ten people, that was an issue. So I, always willing to help and always the person people oddly enough went to for pseudo-marketing help, I waltzed over and asked for details. The club was apparently selling beanies with the school logo on them (the logo is a hawk in flight) but nobody paid attention to their fliers.

First, I knew that anybody who legit wanted a beanie with the school hawk on it were not gonna be the ones that looked at fliers. All of my fellow beanie lovers were the sort that stared straight at the floor the entire time we walked through the halls. So I got the info for the golf club and got permission from their club supervisor to brainstorm ideas. They almost immediately approved my idea of making a sales jingle, a little song, to help sales. I spent a good hour, just an hour, thinking up the catchiest, corniest, yet professional-sounding thirty second jingle I possibly could. To make things worse (better, way better) I based it off of a KidzBop rendition of a song on purpose. Add that cringe factor, ya know?

And I went straight to the vice principle. This dude would bend the school rules for me, and I have no Fucking idea why. But damn if I wasn’t gonna make use of it for my revenge. I showed him the written lyrics for my jingle, and explained my heart-wrenching story about just wanting to help my friend and her club be able to afford their golf clubs and supplies. I felt so bad that such a small club wasn’t getting any attention or support, etc etc. He ate it all up. He asked me how I planned to share the jingle so that the sales could go up, and this is when I struck: I asked for permission to sing it in my classes first to see how people responded to it. He agreed, and offered for me to use the cafeteria stage if all went well.

Let me back up: in my middle school, there was an iron clad rule. Before the bell for the first classes rang, everyone in sixth grade and everyone eating breakfast HAD to stay in the cafeteria. No exceptions. If you were in seventh or eighth grade, you could go to the library or the back courtyard to wait for the bell to ring, or the computer lab, but that was it. So every single day, there was at least 800 captive kids in the cafeteria who either couldn’t leave because they were sixth graders, or because they were busy eating. My school had 2000+ kids, so this was a good number for me. On a good day, I might even have half of the school quite literally trapped in the cafeteria as my captive audience.

So I sang the jingle in my science class first. Yes, the same class that just a few weeks earlier had all yelled profanities at me as one horrible, toxic group. They laughed and teased me as much as they could get away with in front of our awesome teacher, but this time I felt no shame and I was not at all discouraged. They didn’t even suspect the fact that singing it to them first was just a warning; a taste of the Hell to come. Several people commented (away from the teacher’s hearing) that I sucked at singing and shouldn’t do it again. Honestly, that was exactly what I wanted to hear. I just smiled fake-apologetically and said I would try better next time.

But my science teacher loved it, she was completely supportive of me and said that the sales jingle was a great idea to sell beanies. She loved how supportive I was of our school’s smallest club, etc etc. which was honestly all I needed; that day, I went straight to the vice principle with the good news. My teachers loved the song and thought it was a great idea to help the fundraiser. Later, back in GT, I told my friend the good news and asked her to print me as many of her sales fliers as she could. I would hand them out when I launched my big plan the next day. She was excited and thanked me profusely, and we got the all-clear from our GT teachers to spend the rest of the class printing and cutting out a good 200-ish fliers so that everyone knew what colors the beanies came in, where to buy, and how much they were.

The next day, the vice principle gave me full access to the cafeteria stage before the first bell rang, and a fully functional microphone. You better fucking bet I got the attention of every last one of the 800+ captives there, and sang my jingle at full belt for everyone. At first, people shrugged it off and laughed and playfully covered their ears.

But then they noticed I was there again the very next morning. And I sang the jingle again, over the microphone. Everyone was noticeably a little less entertained by this point. But I didn’t stop there— oh hell no. Every morning for the rest of that week, I got up on the stage and horribly sang my sales jingle to all of the captive kids. Some of them started yelling for me to please not sing again by the third day, to which I ignored gleefully. People started trying to bribe me in the hallways to please, please not sing again the next morning.

I had never felt so powerful before in my life. It was amazing.

On the last day of the fundraiser, the vice principle asked me and two of my friends to sing the jingle again— over the intercom during morning announcements, when literally nobody in the whole school could avoid hearing it. I was absolutely ecstatic because I hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. So we were able to end my reign of terror with one last song when everyone thought they were safe, but literally couldn’t escape it. It was even better because my friends and I hadn’t rehearsed for even a second, so we were all out of pace and not in tune and it was gloriously bad.

My friend ran up to me later that day with the biggest smile ever on her face, and told me that someone had literally donated $200 to the club, not even wanting a beanie, just asking that we stop singing the damn song. By then, she had caught on to my plan and kept thanking me for purposely annoying the hell out of people so that they donated. I think they ended up making somewhere around a $1,000 in sales along with a few smaller “stop singing” donations.

For the rest of that year and even the year after, all I had to do to get people to leave me the fuck alone was start singing the jingle. Anyone who had attended the school in time to hear it immediately covered their ears and ran away, or shut up immediately. I got random ass people I never met calling me by name in the hallways complaining about how my song was still stuck in their head literal weeks later, and they couldn’t even intimidate or properly threaten me because I just started singing the song and they were gone faster than I could say “what are you gonna do about it?”

this is revenge. And I have never been more proud of myself.

#soulmate-game #the heroes’ game #story time #revenge #revenge story #bullying #tw: bullying #singing #fundraiser story #middle school #sweet sweet revenge #petty #I was so petty #it was glorious

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whumpering-heights · 4 years

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Villain and Sidekick

[A/N: This is a part two, but I think you can read this without having read part 1. @teachunks thank you for the reluctant caretaking idea! (And sorry I tagged you on my wrong blog before oops) Thank you for your support! I’m currently working on a part 3, so stay tuned for that.]

Part one - Part 3 - Part 4

Villain was laying on his cot. His hand ached and he couldn’t really close it well. He tried to avoid looking at his leg. His shin had a bend in it, and the skin was pulled taut over one end of the fracture, the bone threatening to break through. The rest of his leg had swelled and pulsed with a throbbing pain. That probably wasn’t good. Were they ever going to set that? What if he damaged some of his muscles or nerves when he was moving? Oh god, will he even be able to walk again? He took a shaky breath and covered his eyes with his good hand. No use thinking like that. That will only make him panicky, that’s the last thing he needs. Stay calm. The only good thing about him is his brain. He can’t go screwing that up, too. He heard the lock on the cell door being opened and groaned.

“God, you can’t get enough of me, can you? Will you just let me lick my wounds in peace?” There came no response, and he heard the door being locked again. He raised his hands to see a young boy standing next to his cot. He almost didn’t recognize him without the mask, but he’d know that ginger haircut anywhere.

“Sidekick? Is that you?”

The boy nodded. Villain noticed he was holding a first aid kit, which was the best thing he’d seen in a while.

“You here to patch me up?” Sidekick nodded. He didn’t look very happy about it. He knelt down and emptied his kit, laying everything reading. Two long splints, gauze and medical tape. Villain looked at his bend leg.

“This...This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” Sidekick nodded. A small smile crept on his face. He grabbed the leg above the fracture, and Villain hissed through his teeth. The inflamed flesh was sensitive, and Sidekick didn’t seem like he was going to be very gentle. He grabbed the lower part of the leg and pulled down. Villain tried to keep down his scream, instead turning it into a groan. Sidekick grunted as he pulled the leg in its proper position and with a sickening crunch, the bone fragments were lined back up. Villain lay panting on his cot. His leg was throbbing and spasming, but it was nice to have everything in the right place again. Hopefully, everything will heal alright. He looked at Sidekick, who had started wrapping the leg with the splints. Villain was struck by how young he looked beneath his mask. An uncomfortable feeling sank in his gut. He knew Sidekick was young, but he’d always guessed him at 18-19-ish, before. This kid looked barely old enough to drive.

“Hey kid, indulge an injured man, will ya. How old are you?” The boy looked up in confusion, but didn’t respond.

“Right, you never talked much, did you? I know some sign language, you know. You could talk to me that way, if you can’t do it verbally.” The boy shook his head. “Well, why don’t you ever talk, then?” Sidekick glanced at the door, before answering softly and curtly.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you.” Villain shrugged. “Well, alright. You don’t have to talk to me, though. You can just hold up your fingers to let me know your age.” Sidekick squinted. “Why do you want to know so badly?” “Because I want to know if I’ve been fighting a kindergartner all this time.” The boy huffed. “I’m not a kindergartner! I’m-” He caught himself and held up his hands. First, he held up both, and then he put one down.

“15? You’re 15?” He nodded. Villain stared in horror. “Oh god, and I’ve been kicking your ass for about two years now. Jesus kid! I’m sorry, I didn’t… I wouldn’t have fought you if I knew you were a child.”

“I’m not a child.” Sidekick sneered. “I’m a hero! Don’t treat me like I ‘m lesser than you. ” Villain held up his good hand defensively. “Alright, okay. I’m sorry.” The boy continued wrapping his leg. “So, do you go to school?” The kid scoffed. “What would I need school for? I’m going to replace Hero someday. I don’t need maths to do that.” “Right. And your parents, what do they think of that?” Sidekick’s face turned dark. “Not much, because you killed them.” Oh. Villain tried to keep civilians out of fire as much as possible, but sometimes schemes go wrong. Sometimes the explosives are a bit more potent than thought, or people are stupid and get in the way, and they get hurt.

“I’m sorry, Sidekick.” he said, and he meant it. The kid just frowned and pulled the splint tighter. “Yeah, well, should have thought about that before you threw a car through their house.” Villain frowned. “I did what now?” Sidekick’s mouth became a tight line. His voice was soft and strained with the threat of tears.

“You don’t even remember, do you? For you, it was just another day. But I’ll remember that April 20th very well, I tell you.” Villain racked his brain. “April 20th... Hold on, you mean when I robbed the bank, 5 years ago?”

‘So you do remember.”

“Yes. But I didn’t kill your parents, Sidekick.” The boy glared at him. “Oh, I suppose that car just drove itself through their house, then? Through the second floor?” Villain propped himself up on his elbows.

“No, hold on, I remember. I was getting away, and Hero started throwing parked cars, trying to stop me. He tried the same thing last week, you were there.” Sidekick turned quiet.

“Well, yeah. But he never hit any civilians. He wouldn’t do that. You’re lying.” Villain leaned forward. “I’m not, Sidekick. I don’t have super strength, I just have gadgets. You know that. And none of them can throw cars through second floors. I’m sorry about your parents, I am, but I didn’t kill-” “Shut up!” Sidekick stood up and kicked Villain’s leg. A sharp pain shot through his leg and up his spine. He gasped and curled in on himself. Above him, Sidekick yelled: “You’re lying! This is why I ‘m not allowed to talk to you, you just manipulate me!” Swallowing down the pain, Villain spoke through gritted teeth.

“Does it count as manipulating if it’s true, though?” This earned him another kick against his leg, as well as one in the ribs that stole his breath. As he lay gasping for breath, Sidekick stormed out of his cell.

#whump #villain whump #reluctant caretaker #my stuff #my writing #ocs #captivity #broken bones #sidekick #villain #villain whumpee

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namgee · 4 years

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where there are no notes (1/2) | jjk

❥ pairing: jungkook x reader ❥ genre: angst, fluff, fantasy (ish, probably very little ) ❥ summary: In a society where unsung notes meant the inevitable demise of one’s life, you spent the entirety of your own surviving on small snippets of sounds, whispered careful so to only be heard by your own ears. Never could you have imagined the magnitude your shy voice would take in the ears of the town’s curious prodigy. For Jungkook, there is hope but can he manage to bring out your unsung notes? ❥ word count: 1.9 k ❥ warnings: mentions of death, brief mention of violence/alluding to violence ❥ author’s note: This is just a cute lil idea I’ve had for a while that has been siting in my drafts, so I wanted to try out something new i guess. This is a part of a two shot. The next part should be up around the same time next week (i write slow okay T_T). Also sorry for any mistakes ;( . I hope you enjoy ;))

Whenever you sang, even for a small while, everything around you wilted, grays creeping in, dark tones accentuating themselves further. unrhythmic notes bouncing off onto blank walls to hit back at your curious ears. You sang, but never long enough to let your voice and its frailty travel through the cracks present on old squeaky doors and windows and allow your unknown regular visitor, whose steps emitted careful tones that tickled your attentive ears, to hear you sing.

At nights, just like this one, where you feel less alone now that much can’t be seen, you dare to open your mouth, to push with hesitant muscles against your stomach, to feel the vibrations rise through your chest and let the unpracticed sounds leave your barely open mouth. Only then, your eyes shielded by darkness, unable to bear witness to the way your voice murders all color, do you manage to let some of it go and grow into the air.

Unlike the rest of your family you managed to escape. It’s the least you can do, sing a little, night by night for yourself and to remember the lost voices of your loved ones.

Just like you, they didn’t sing often, only enough to stay alive, the collective burden of your voices too much for their eyes to bear.

Your family wasn’t like the others, unable to do the very thing that keeps them alive and colors their loved land. For that they had to pay the price. There were only so many singing evaluations you could manage to escape with the help of the few kind hearted people you encountered. It was only a matter of time until silence raised suspicions, ones that turned into interrogations that revealed your malign voices.

The problem was dealt with however they saw fit. Helping would have been too much of a bother, the easy way out, was simply to cleanse the bad fruits from the rest. It was in well accustomed darkness that your family was muzzled, left alone as the little life they had managed to conjure up with their disjointed singing, wilted into extinction. You, the youngest all of them all, had been left to watch them leave as silently as they lived.

Restless, bordering on lifeless, you laid down on the floor awaiting your time, listening to the rhythmic sounds of coarse boots as they echo louder than you, setting its tone on the long hallway bordering your freezing cell, the same way the notes you admired with pitiful eyes coloured your favourite music sheets.

You had thought the steps had come to give the last order to your heart, like a director swings his stick to welcome the end. Anticipating it all you drifted off, lighthearted in your mind, but heavy in your chest from all unsung melodies. If only you had known that in fact, what was coming to you wasn’t an end, but the light taping of the director’s stick against his stand, letting you know, the beginning is near.

Call it what you want, a miracle, a blessing, a sign. Someone must have sang life back into you as you had found yourself by the gate of your house. Someone had thought that the sheet of your life still had room for more uncertain notes, no matter how rare they were to you.

Every couple of days, the rustling vegetation outside would indicate the arrival of your unidentified visitor. You don’t know who they are, only that they come by once in a while to sing healing melodies. However sweet and familiar the gesture is, your curiosity never arises. The short life you’ve so far had has already sung its notes to you, clear and harsh: nobody can be trusted.

Tomorrow is your birthday. Like all the previous years, the night before, clinging to childish hope that your heart can speak louder than your mouth, you wish to magically wake up with the ability to sing. You didn’t have to have the most beautiful voice, you just wanted to sing. Yet, for the past years, every birthday morning has been quieter than the other. So when you wake up, you keep silent. Your wish has not been granted.

You go through the day ravaging your dead sister’s drawer for her piano sheets. Your family couldn’t sing notes, but they could play them. You continue searching for the light notes of childhood songs, a little birthday tune to color your day. As the night settles, so does that the need to do something about this day. You never asked for much, but if you were going to keep living like this, a little celebration and room for your frustration should be acceptable on such a day.

The rush of the ocean waves crashing against your closed window frame get you to hurry. You cover up as much as possible, sneaking out of your estate. You didn’t want to surprisingly find out that your secret visitor decided to come by and risk getting caught. Even the kindest voice could house hatred in the worst scenarios.

You rush into town with trembling limbs. There’s a definite lack of energy for you to be exerting this much effort. Tonight, you had chosen not to sing. The day was meant to celebrate you for you, the you that is everything except her inability to carry out pleasant notes.

Head down, you stumble your way through the stores prompting a few curious glances. Hand weighed down by a small plastic bag, you head towards the park. It’s vast enough for you to find some place secure to sit under gleaming stars and far enough to allow you to scream and free some of that heaviness in your chest without having to face the competing crashing sound of ocean waves. And you do just that, you scream, voice amplifying more as the sweet mixture of cheese cake and liquor settles in your body.

The walk back home is as slurred as your incoherent mumbling about any random sad or happy subject that your fleeting mind manages to catch. With your hazy vision, head somehow hanging even lower than before it takes a lot longer to find your way to one of the many gates of your estate. One you thought you had closed upon your departure. Apparently not. Usually, your first instinct would have been to hide, even if it’s your home, your property. After all, who would like to lay claim on something you’ve disregarded for so long. Your reality doesn’t matter, people only judge what they can see.

Yet, you stand still, leaning onto the cool metal of the gate, anchoring your stance. With the backdrop of the rising sun and clearing night, you watch as your sunflowers radiate with warming yellows and dark chocolatey centers. The scene doesn’t register in your mind given your non-existent belief in drunken thoughts. Your uncoordinated limbs manage to shift your body past the entrance, allowing you to peek into the corner.

Now that you can see the person colouring your estate does the dainty sound of soft melodies reach your ears. Shivers lay a claim on your condition, the plastic bag filled with the remains of your pitiful night falling down. You take full breath, the rejuvenating sound lightens your mood and brings a smile to your lips. The more you listen, the warmer you get, not because of the beauty in the sound but because of its uncanny familiarity. You let your mind wander, as inept as it might still be in your current state, and let it trace back to the oldest memory you have of any similar feeling.

It all goes by quickly. Creases adorn your face with every rushing image of your time back in the cell, weak, desperately hanging by any thread of hope you had managed to conjure up. The doom-like sound of incoming steps on that very day you managed to leave abruptly ceased. You know something happened, but the solution is still unknown to you. But the current melodies colouring the incoming sea breeze feel like an answer.

The man ahead of you keeps singing, eyes closed as his hair, tucked behind his ears, frees itself to sway in the breeze. Out of curiosity, or maybe enchantment you walk closer. His voice booms with a growing intensity and the sudden gush of energy has you stepping back far enough to stop being entranced with his presence and realise the new state of your estate.

For the first time in your life you get to see past the potential of your home and get to witness the vibrancy it can own. Your parents were well-off as professional musicians and music educators. They took advantage of that and set to live by the sea, far from the prying eyes of the bustling city.

The land was vast, it was covered with unkempt vegetation that blocked the small gravel pathways leading to your home. Surprised by your own thoughts you avert your gaze up to look at the tall building. It’s unusual for you to call it your home, now that you’re the only one residing in it. But it is your home, no matter how much you wish to detach yourself from it, given the pain it has brought you. That’s something this mysterious man singing life back into it is making you realise. Is this what you had been missing your whole life?

This sweet and calming feeling you’re getting every time you take a breath. The happy, giddy bouncing of your eyes as you try your hardest to look at every nook and cranny of your home and garden. You wouldn’t want to miss any transformation happening before your eyes.

The man suddenly turns to you and on instinct, you look away, head facing down. He sings, erasing the little space in between you as his boots come into your constricted field of vision. Your body reacts the only way it knows to, out of fear, as you fist your hands and screw your eyes shut, trembling from the intensity of your force. He sings and you get warmer. Your body is being bathed in a pool of positive emotions few of which you know how to place. For now you sum it all up into happiness, and it all feels good, you conclude. Addictively good.

The sound rustling sound of plastic clashes with the fading melody of his voice. You don’t dare to open your eyes. Your body and heart surely are betraying you but your mind contains the memories of your life, wired to make you act on instinct which is what you do when he reaches for your hand, his warm fingers brushing your fisted ones as he attempts to place the bag where it was.

You jump back, hands slapping away at unknown feelings as you rush into your house, heartbeat banging against your eardrums. The door slams hard enough for a painting to fall off the wall. You distance yourself from the door, ragged breaths and shaky limbs. Simply from memory you’re in your current crumbling state. The last time someone had touched while you were still conscious shouldn’t be something worth remembering. As your body fears for your survival, the soft and warm singing resurges.

Your breath starts to even out, pulsing calming down only to spike at a question no one, not even yourself, has ever asked you before.

“Don’t you want to learn how to sing?”

#jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jungkook #Jungkook fanfiction #Jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #bangtan #jungkook scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff

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mirrorfalls · 3 years

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Lego Liveblogs ST: TOS, part 15 (of who-the-hell-knows-how-many?)

Fun Fact: Court Martial was designed as a bottle episode that could be filmed for the low low price of one set. Funner fact: It failed spectacularly at this, so now we’ve got a two-part clip show to pad out the cost. So say hi to The Menagerie, everybody!

Broadly speaking, I have fond-ish memories of the Trek-that-never-was pilot we’re getting all the clips from - here’s hoping they won’t all get dashed to pieces by the next hour and change.

* Ahh, Starbase Eleven. Feels like we were here just last week. * Ho-ly jeez. ** I know some people probably think ��Dalek” Pike looks hilarious, but it wouldn’t surprise me if his original actor refused to reprise solely because of how goddamn horrifying his fate is. * Ooh, Starfleet Noir! Didn’t expect you back so soon but I ain’t complaining. ** Aaaand we’re rehashing the whole “He said/the computer said” plot now. Well, at least the last episode taught everyone to deem the things just a little less infallible. * Today we learned: Spock’s the original rule-breaking Starfleet cowboy. ** Wonder if he walked all the way into that room with tapes in hand, hoping nobody would notice. * I love Uhura’s “WTH is going on here” face. * “The simple fact that he's a Vulcan means he's incapable of telling a lie.” and other fairy tales Kirk and McCoy tell themselves because they’re too terrified to think about what damage Spock could wreak on the ship otherwise! ** Case in point: this. * Spock, I sure hope you have a good reason for tricking Bones aboard, because if anyone’s gonna defy your one-man show it’s him. * Wait, how did he fake Kirk’s voice anyway? Was he taking lessons from the big guy in What Are Little Girls Made Of? * Anyway, I’m sure Kirk will do the sensible thing and wait for another Enterprise-class starship to become available before chas-ahahahahaha no. ** “You had no right to come along.” “Yeah, well, you had no right to drive a superior officer out past the point of no return!” * An attack of conscience, Mr. Spock? ** Of course not! He’s just letting Kirk onboard now that nobody can stop the Enterprise from reaching the death planet! * Welp, that’s enough action and intrigue for one ep. On with the clip show! * “How the hell did you get exterior footage of the Enterprise in the first place?” “Tell you next episode.” * Good ol’ Pike, in his prime. Still the coldblooded sonuvabitch I remember from Pilot Numero Uno. ** So, my overall retrospective thoughts on The Cage: it’s an interesting enough slice of what Roddenberry wanted Trek to be, with plenty of memorably grisly bits, but as a character piece it took us way too fast into Pike’s nadir when we had no idea what he’s like normally. Worse, Pike’s entire character now revolves around this one planet, which shuts off a lot of character and story potential. ** That said - for all Pike’s being a Grim, Grittier Captain than Kirk could ever hope to, there’s something delightful and almost precious about how he and his team (Spock included!) just light up at the singing flowers of Talos. They’re not just explorers - they’re a kid’s ideal of explorers. ** On a completely unrelated note: I know it’s a bog-standard Grey design, but I can’t stop thinking of the Hey Arnold! Halloween special whenever I see these aliens. * Alas, Spock’s efforts have come to nothing! The Commodore remains unconvinced, Starfleet High Command’s about to pass down the death penalty, and even Kirk seems to have lost faith in his buddy! How can our heroes possibly get out of this one? Stay tuned.

Well, as a Starfleet procedural, this feels a hell of a lot more plausible than Court Martial, but that’s not really much of a compliment. No, where it really shines is in having the guts to actually put Spock’s character on the firing line; there’s no frame-up here, no cleverly-forged evidence, he’s done the unthinkable and it’s wholly up to us to decide whether his reason behind it all is good enough. Difficult in any circumstance, and made much more so by the reminder that Spock didn’t spring from the Earth as Kirk’s BFF, but as his own person, with his own secrets and loyalties that even Kirk doesn’t get to override.

Next: What other secrets lurk, beneath the soils of Talos...?

#Lego Liveblogs Star Trek #Star Trek: The Original Series

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amyscascadingtabs · 3 years

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✨creator tag meme✨

i’ve been tagged in this by @feeisamarshmallow @dolston17 and @arnies-bitch and i love doing these every year (self love!) so, even though this year has been a year of far less fic-writing for me for various reasons... here goes ❤️

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

listed chronologically in terms of date published;

💫 i’ll walk through hell with you

i know i chose this one last year as well, BUT, i did write and publish the two-three last chapters of this in 2020 so i’m including it again. i’m so freaking proud of this one. it was an experience to write and i did SO much research and i had such fun with it. writing the two last chapters was such a high and i remember i wrote the sixth one in like three days where i just couldn’t stop. it was also the last fic i wrote and published with my original peraltiago kiddos leah and olivia santiago-peralta and it was lovely to get to say goodbye to them in style. plus the way i literally predicted trying.. my mind ❤️ (i do have a document of the similarities and how i worded it vs how the show did it... if any fan of this is curious)

a favourite quote:

But what I was actually trying to say was…” Jake blushes, and she can tell there’s a moment of emotional sincerity coming. “I’m with you. I know that. I also know that as long as I’m with you, all the bad stuff is survivable, and all the good stuff is a million times better. And I’d rather have hard days with you, and Lee, and I guess soon whoever this is,” he holds his hand to her stomach through her sweater, “than good days with anyone else.”

“Me too,” she snivels, having to wipe the tears on her shirt sleeve because of course, this is making her cry. “How’d you get so wise all of a sudden?”

“Married you,” he shrugs. “And had kids. Also, I got hella old.”

💫 paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans

was this possibly the only fic i wrote this year that was (almost) baby-free? probably. i blame it on season 7. but yes; i wrote a fic about rosa dealing with her breakup from jocelyn and it was great fun and made me want to write even more rosa (which i did!). she’s just great, and writing her with amy is incredible. plus, i got such amazing guidance from @vernonfielding with this one which i think truly brought out the best in this story.

a favourite quote:

“I hate it,” Rosa mutters. “I didn’t get a fucking choice. I never knew how much of a difference that made.”

“Well, now you know. It sucks. But...” Amy leans her head to the side. “Maybe that’s a good thing, too?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If it hurts, that means it mattered, right? If you miss something, then there was something to miss in the first place. It means you opened yourself up and built something of meaning with someone. I know that doesn’t make it easier -”

Rosa snorts. “No, it doesn’t.”

“But it might mean that something can matter again,” Amy says, fixing her eyes on Rosa’s. “Someday. Even if it feels impossible right now.”

💫 bracing for the winds i always summon

we all know i love some sweet amy content... this was one of the things i wrote early on in covid quarantine life, and it brings out a lot of memories. i do still consider going back and editing the last parts so they can fully agree with canon, but i’ve not had the energy quite yet. either way, i’m really proud of the way i wove canon and minor episode details into this one. we got such limited pregnant amy content and i wanted more! i’ve reread this one a ton of times, because it’s just.. satisfying to me. i answered a lot of my own questions in it. filling in the holes!!

a favourite quote:

She’s felt protective of this life since the day she found out about it, but it’s a great and positive change to be able to feel like she’s starting to know the child she’s protecting. She doesn’t know his name, although it keeps being debated, or what he looks like aside from the gray-and-white sonogram pictures, but she knows he’s most awake at night before they go to bed and that he moves like crazy to the sound of Jake humming renditions of his favorite Taylor Swift-tunes to him, and it feels like the most important information she’s ever known about someone.

Maybe she’s okay at making babies, Amy thinks. She’s wholly certain this child is too good for her, is still worried he’ll be taken away at a moment’s notice, but right now he’s here, and he’s making her want to try her best.

💫 (three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life

i didn’t write very much this summer for several reasons, but what little motivation i had for writing, mostly went to this one. it was originally meant to be for father’s day and i published it in september, so i missed out slightly there, but i’m still really proud of it. writing jake and his feelings about fatherhood is something i’ve always enjoyed so much, and this was 13k words of doing just that. i’m proud of so much in this fic, and i’m really happy i actually finished it in the end. god i love jake and baby mac ❤️

a favourite quote:

Jake is amazed by how much better fatherhood has gotten with time. It was always the most amazing thing to ever happen to him, but it was so different when his son was a newborn. Mac was rarely awake for the first weeks, and when he was, he was either stuck to Amy for feeding or crying because he was overtired or needed his diaper changed. Jake always loved his son, but for the first month or so, he felt pretty useless around him. The daily attempts at bottle-feeding, and the precious times Mac fell asleep against his Jake’s chest as they walked around the apartment at night, had made up most of their bonding time together. It was still wonderful, and Jake can miss the time when Mac actually stayed where you put him, but in the end, it’s got nothing on what fatherhood is like at eight months in. Now, Mac interacts with them, laughing and smiling and trying to babble gibberish back at them when they talk to him. He’s always on the move, like he’s anxious to miss out on anything the world has to offer if he sits still for too long. Judging from the way he’s currently trying to use the tree next to them to get up to a standing position, Jake wonders how long they’ve got left until he’s walking. It’s clear that Mac has his own personality now, no longer just traces of it hidden in a newborn’s constant needs, and every day of fatherhood seems to bring a new adventure.

There had been a time when Jake wasn’t sure if he wanted this. Little did he know, it’s better than anything he could have dreamt.

💫 when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)

last but not least, my second sleuth sisters fic of the year and second rosa fic too! i’ve thought about writing this since i watched lights out; i love writing rosa and amy so much and it’s always fun to write jake and amy from someone else’s perspective, especially as i think the choice by the show to have them keep their pregnancy private when everyone had already figured it out was so interesting. i love supportive rosa and i love the relationship she’s going to have with mac and i love her secretly loving babies. they’re so cute it’s fucked up!!!! anyway, yeah; i love writing rosa and this was such a fun challenge.

a favourite quote:

There’s a tenderness even to the way she speaks to him, like love is packed into each word. Rosa thinks of the way Amy hid her pregnancy for months in fear that something would go wrong, and how scared she was that giving birth under less than ideal circumstances would somehow make her a bad mom. She doesn’t seem as scared anymore. Rather, there’s an air of quiet confidence over her when she’s holding him, and it’s moving to see.

“Slow down, McClane,” she whispers, thumb stroking over his cheek. “I know you’re hungry, but if you keep going like that, you’re going to puke, okay? We’ve been through this.”

“I’m proud of you,” the words spill out of Rosa, and Amy blinks.

“You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah, I’m proud of you.” A shy smile flutters across Amy’s lips. “But if you ever have another kid, I’m not going near you a month before you’re due, okay? I’ll transfer precincts or something. Never again.”

Amy laughs, but Rosa just stares at her, and she goes silent. “Got it. Cool. That’s fair.”

tags 2019/2018 ❤️

i’m tagging @johnny-and-dora, @letsperaltiago, @amydancepants-peralta, @b99peraltiago and @nessa007 to do some self love over any creations this year you're proud of ❤️❤️❤️

#my writing #johanna talks writing #tag games

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