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justcourttee · 4 years

Note

Adrien is super in love with Marinette and gets the rest of the class to help him confesses. Marinette rejects him because she's dating Damian and doesn't like him anymore

I’ll Wait Forever

Adrien just knew it.

Today was the day that he was finally going to ask out Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He wasn’t really sure when he fell in love with her, but he did know that when he realized it, the feeling hit him like a freight train. Suddenly, everything she did became so precious from her laughter to her stumbling about.

She must love him too.

He could vividly remember all the times that she had attempted to confess, each one making his heartache at how long he had been making his princess wait.

As his car pulled to a stop in front of the school, Adrien was practically floating. One look at his princess, or even just a photo, like the one she had posted this morning, was enough to send his heart aflutter.

“Woah, dude, care to come down from cloud 9? The rest of us can’t see you up there.”

Nino smiled cheekily as he nudged Adrien’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry Nino, it’s just, I haven’t felt this free in a while. I think I’m finally going to do it today.”

Nino’s whole demeanor changed as his cheeky smile dropped into a serious frown.

“Dude, Alya mentioned something last night, and I think you should hear it before you get your hopes up-”

Adrien shook his head, placing his finger to Nino’s lips. The boy’s eyebrows furrowed together as he nearly went cross-eyed looking at Adrien’s hand.

“I don’t want to know how she feels about me, Nino. It makes this all the more exciting. I wonder if she’ll cry from the joy of finally being able to let go of her secret. I won’t lie, I might cry too.”

Nino tried to open his mouth, warn his friend, but it was too late. Adrien was long gone. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As Adrien walked into the classroom, his eyes instantly landed on her empty seat. It was the perfect opportunity.

“Hey, guys!”

The class slowly silenced as curious eyes turned their attention toward him.

“Today’s the day!”

Instantly the mood shifted as everyone shared a look, one that Adrien could swear looked like pity.

“I mean it guys! I’m not backing out today!”

All eyes shifted behind him as if waiting for approval for someone. He turned just in time to see Nino give them a solemn nod. Why did they need Nino’s approval? What was going on?

“Okay Adrien, what do you want us to do?”

Alix stepped forward, a pitiful smile gracing her face. They all didn’t believe in him, that had to be it. But he was going to show them just how serious he was about this.

“Here’s what I was thinking-”

They all gathered around as Adrien laid out his master plan. With the help of his classmates and best friend, there was no way that this was going to fail. By the end of the day, he would be dating Marinette Dupain-Cheng and he couldn’t be more excited. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“You’re really going to let him do this?”

Adrien stopped in his tracks as he leaned in near the lockerroom doors. It sounded like Alya, why wasn’t she with Marinette? This could throw off the whole plan.

“It’s the only way babe. You know him, he’s stubborn. No amount of words are going to discourage him, especially if you and Marinette won’t even give the rest of the guy’s name.”

“I told you! I usually would tell you everything, but this is one secret Marinette begged me to keep. You didn’t see the look in her eyes. She’s serious about him.”

Could they be talking about him? No, Nino would tell him if there was something going on. Maybe they were just worried Marinette would panic in front of the big group and say no. She used to have them all the time around him, swearing that she didn’t like him when all she wanted was to be with him. Yeah, they were just worried.

Adrien straightened up, his smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Adrien! We have everything set up! Lila said she couldn’t get Jagged to come, but that’s okay. We’ll just do it without him.”

Adrien bit back a chuckle as Rose cocked her head to the side.

He knew Lila couldn’t get him here, but she seemed so excited to help him. So, he gave her a big job so that she wouldn’t get involved with the poster. Who knows what damage she could’ve done if she got her hands on it.

“Perfect Rose, Alya should be on her way to grab Marinette from the art room any minute now. Let’s go get set up by the entrance!”

As he raced down the stairs, his mind was spinning. After months of pining, it was finally here. Settling into his spot behind the banner, Adrien felt confident.

Slowly the door crept open from above their heads. A hushed silence fell over the courtyard as Alya and Nino stepped out, Marinette nestled between them. Her smile was radiant as a soft giggle escaped her lips causing his heart to flip and twist.

As her first foot hit the top of the stairs, the group Adrien had gathered caught her attention. Instantly, her entire face burned red. That was an excellent sign if he ever saw one.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” his voice echoed across the silent courtyard as his heart ran wildly in his chest. With a point of his fingers, the members of kitty section began a soft ballad that Adrien had wrote.

He waited patiently for Alya to give her a slight nudge. She appeared to be frozen in place, the red quickly fading to a much paler shade than her normal fair skin tone. Adorable.

“Marinette, I will never know the exact moment I fell in love with you, whether it has been gradually over the past few years or whether I woke up last week with the instant realization, but I do know this.”

He took a step forward, offering her his hand as she stepped down from the last step holding them apart.

“I know that I will love you even when the last star in the sky flickers out. I know I will love you even when the last drop of the ocean is shriveled up. I know I will love you when I take my last breath because I know that the love I feel for you is earth-shattering and never-ending. Please, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, will you love me back?”

At some point, he had dropped down to one knee during his confession. He wasn’t quite sure when, all he could focus on was the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, and two piercing blue eyes staring into his.

A minute passed, and then two and she still had yet to respond. But that was okay, this was Marinette after all. A big, public confession wasn’t really her style. He should’ve held back from the music and the banners, but it just felt like an injustice to how he felt.

“Adrien, I-”

“Is that a yes?” his hopeful eyes glistened as tears began to form in hers. Slowly she knelt down, pulling her hand from his grasp. Moving in, she wrapped her small frame around him, a comfort that matched no other.

“I can’t. I’m in love with someone else.”

The words were almost silent, whispered from her mouth pressed against his ear, but it didn’t help soften the blow that smacked his heart from mid-air. She held on for a few moments more before she pulled back, allowing him to slump forward into someone else’s arms.

There was a soft buzz throughout the courtyard as many began to theorize what could’ve been said. He thought he could hear Marinette ask Nino to take care of him, but there was nothing else. Nothing.

His eyes slowly focused as she fled from the courtyard and into the arms of a dark-haired boy waiting at the edge. The boy seemed agitated as he wiped her tears away, throwing deadly glares in Adrien’s direction. He watched as the boy placed a small kiss on his beloved’s head before ushering her away under his arm.

“I was too late.” his voice sounded foreign as Nino rubbed small circles into his back.

“I’m sorry dude.”

Adrien let out a small humorless laugh as he reached up to catch the tear before it could even fall.

“I guess I couldn’t expect her to wait for me forever huh?”

Nino’s eyebrows furrowed as he opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure of what to say.

“Hey, Alya?”

Alya took a tentative step forward as she finished shooing away the last of the bystanders. With a heavy face, she squatted down beside him, her half-smile full of pity.

“What’s up sunshine?”

“Can you let her know?”

Alya cocked her head to the side, concern replacing where the pity once was.

“Let her know what?”

“Let her know that I don’t expect her to come back, but if she does, if he ever breaks her heart. I’ll be waiting. For her, I’ll wait forever.”

Without another word, Adrien stood, following the same path Marinette had taken minutes earlier to exit the building. He entered his car feeling a million pounds heavier than he did exiting the car that morning.

Only one thought helped drive him forward as he motioned for Gorilla to take him home.

The hope that maybe, just maybe, she would be happy knowing that he was waiting for one day to come, no matter how soon.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb

#miraculous ladybug #maribat #daminette #adrinette

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parcoeurs · 3 years

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Extremely fascinated by your wag AU tag 👀.

thanks bestie so am i.

okay lmao so this isn't an actual fic that'll ever be written but. i was talking to my friend about it who still hasn't finished dts season 3 unfortunately but it means that i've switched around ages and years etc. i promise this has the potential to be a fun and sexy time but there's just s o much background shit that needs to be discussed. tw for mentions of irl deaths etc:

but pierre & charles meeting when they're 5-6 (which is what i think charles actually says irl but someone said it might've been closer to when they were 10-11? regardless.) and charles' dad passes away when they're 9-10, and jules when they're 13-14 and charles quits racing then. (fyi i know that irl jules passed away first)

he thinks about quitting when his dad passes away but keeps going with help from jules. so when the accident etc happens, it's not even like an active decision he ponders. he just knows there's no way he'll race again.

and pierre's been with him throughout everything, his best friend who he can talk to when he can't bear looking at his own family. so he doesn't understand when pierre tells him he's going to keep racing. when charles had told him he was never going to get into a kart ever again, pierre had nodded, grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. important to note that they're barely teenagers rn so yes charles feels betrayed that pierre isn't feeling the same things he is and isn't choosing the same future for himself etc.

they have a huge fight, lots of crying, lots of dramatic teenage angst. but it ultimately ends with charles shutting pierre out of his life. which is easier said than done when it's your best friend whose family is super close with yours. but it works because pierre is off racing around the world and charles has done all he can to never have to think about that stuff.

so charles goes to school, is doing uni somewhere in europe. studies something generic like business or maybe if i'm feeling suuuuper indulgent i will have him major in environmental studies like moi <3 pointedly does not come to monaco during grand prix weekend or the week before or the week after.

and then anthoine passes away too. (they're 20-21 now)

they see each other again at the funeral but don't talk, they meet up afterwards. pierre breaking down in charles' arms, clutching at his back, telling him he was right. pierre should've quit, he can't do this anymore either. they haven't said a word to each other in 7 years but charles still knows pierre, and knows that this isn't actually what pierre wants. or what he should do. (charles vaguely knows pierre's in f1 but doesn't know he's with redbull, doesn't know redbull's the top team etc)

"you can still do this, you will," charles tells him.

"not without you again."

so then comes the challenge of mending their relationship while still working through the shared trauma, and the Layers of past trauma. and also just the general awkwardness that comes with a friendship breakup/makeup situation you know! they can't just act like nothing happened but would it be easier that way?

they start texting first, then they play fifa or cod together. (sometimes pierre's british friend lewis joins too.)

slowly slowly slowly, they become friends again and then inseparable too. maybe even closer than they were before and charles only now realizes how much he missed pierre. while pierre still can't believe he has charles back now, it's as good as he let himself imagine.

the part i'm unsure about is if i would want pierre's career trajectory to be the same or not. because i think the demotion adds SUCH a painful but interesting aspect to his ~storyline. but ultimately i think maybe he just doesn't get the second seat immediately. spends more years with toro rosso/alpha tauri before getting "called up" (sorry i have no idea what the proper terminology is haha ignore the nba/nhl terms).

he invites charles to his first race in the red bull and charles says no. immediately. pierre's quiet on the other side of the phone, internally thinking he messed this up somehow. he thought things were going well and he takes this as charles doesn't want to see him. but he knows there's a lot more that's stopping charles and he also knows charles will definitely pull back if pierre asks about the other stuff. so he moves right along, asking charles about school, the weather, and tries not to let it show in his voice that he misses his best friend and needs him too.

"i'm going to try to watch," charles says, after pierre's yawned goodnight through the phone and is waiting for him to hang up. because you know pierre's not going to hang up first.

"what?"

"the race. i'm going to try. goodnight!" mentally charles slams the phone shut but really he just smashes at the red button before shoving it under his bed and looking at his hands trying to get answers for what he just did.

his only relief is that he didn't promise pierre he would watch, just that he would try. couldn't even choke out a, "good luck." (insert long paragraph about charles letting pierre down or thinking he has).

he only watches qualifying. pierre p3. already knows on saturday that there's no way he can watch the actual race.

but on sunday when he's supposed to be going over his notes for his climate change science & policy course (yes.... i did it...) he finds himself with his heart in his mouth refreshing formula1 dot com. watches the random names move up and down while keeping his eyes on 10 - gasly. (starts shaking for a second when he sees pierre's name drop until the IN PIT sign comes up across his name. fellas the thing about triggers is-- anyways.)

the scariest part is that by the time he's scrolled through all of red bull's socials to look at pictures of pierre on the podium (he finished p2 sorry i know this truly does not matter), he's forgotten about the race. the anxiety sits small in the back of his throat, his happiness for pierre is bright and loud in front of him. charles sends him a message, asking him to call whenever he can and adds a blue & red heart emoji which feels like a Big Step. but basically pierre calls and acts like nothing has happened since the last time they talked. mentions the breakfast he had in detail as if he didn’t get a podium in his first race with red bull. finally with a big team. but charles embarrassingly realizes that maybe his text didn't exactly imply in literally any way whatsoever that he knows the results of the race and was trying to congratulate pierre with this call. charles probably feels so embarrassed at this point but somehow still can't manage to say anything about the race until the next day maybe.

maybe texts pierre, good job. or, you were great. or something about him and not the race. or maybe reposts a picture from red bull but not one of pierre in his car, pointedly. only one of him on the podium. and pierre probably reposts it with the squid emoji and/or my favourite sentence in the world, merci petit calamaro.

charles cries when he reads it.

not to be lazy now but [insert 10k words of them building their friendship. meeting up in monaco with both of their families. meeting in milan or london or paris idk where pierre would live. but he flies charles out. not on a private jet because charles flat out refused lol. not because he's an environmentally conscious king he's just too, embarrassed? overwhelmed? by pierre doing Things Like That for him. even though he wants it lol. like when he graduates he's soooo annoyed that pierre couldn't come celebrate immediately because it was race week. but when he comes home his apartment is filled with flowers (roses, his favourite) and balloons and a giant teddy bear as tall as charles. and he DOES post 12 instagram stories to go with the other 30 from his other friends congratulating him. so yeah charles goes through a lot of personal growth and therapy. to the point where he's watching pierre race again, and waiting for him to invite him to a race again!!! do not even think about actual dates i'm fucking begging you but the one he goes to is monza :))))]

ultimately charles' path to understand/accepting/moving on from, his trauma, happens once he has pierre back in his life. it's also encouraged by pierre, but it's also not entirely because of him. not sure how to word that but yeah. these things are happening at the same time but charles still has to go through them by himself.

pierre takes him on romantic dates all around the world and charles doesn't realize that's what they are. fully in his bestie vibes only mood while pining for pierre in a way he doesn't even quite understand. almost a self deprecating, jeez whoever gets to date pierre is going to be so lucky :/

fanpage on ig: met pierre's alleged bf he's so pretty and sweet, i complimented his shoes and he was so nice. charles reading that: i didnt know he was dating someone :( why wouldn't he tell me :( well at least someone complimented my shoes today :(

pierre doesn't necessarily think they're dating, but he does know charles doesn't quite realize what they're doing so he's just waiting for him to come to terms with it.

not to give this au 10 different subplots but yeah that miscommunication plot becomes our prize for surviving through the first part of this.

but yeah at the last race of the year, that pierre wins because i said so? charles finds him before he goes on to the podium, kisses his helmet. says i love you, i'm so proud of you.

THEN, finally, charles does become pierre's wag. we made it kids. we did it joe.

#rs #anonymous #asks #1016 #just checked this is 1.7k words i am so so so sorry

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thatesqcrush · 3 years

Text

Christmas in The Heights

Nevada Ramirez x Reader. I haven’t written Nevada in a hot minute. This is for @madpanda75 who requested Nevada and lights for holiday bingo. I also had an anon from way back when request Nevada with the line: “You’re the only one who gets to call me that, you know.” from the grumpy prompt list.

CW: blowjobs, language, p in v sex.

WC: 1828

AN: Posting without editing. Sorry for typos. Also Spanish sprinkled throughout. Will post a key at the end.

***

Christmas in The Heights was a multi-sensory experience. Lights hung off the fire escapes of the apartment building. As temperatures begin to fall and the sun begins to set a bit earlier, corner fruit stands put away the limónes and naranjas and instead, put out peras, apples and uvas dangling from strings, a lot like seasonal baubles. Groups of family and friends, or Aguinaldos, would walk from house to house, singing with great cheer and as they made their way around the neighborhood, creating a spontaneous holiday street festival.

You looked down from your apartment window, smiling as you watched the Aguinaldo make its way around, with more and more people joining in. You danced around in just an oversized sweatshirt and a Santa hat as you strung up more and more lights around the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, Nevada.

You looked at the clock, after stringing up the last of the lights. Nevada was nowhere to be found. You let out an irritated sigh. Everyone would soon be arriving for Noche Buena and you told everyone during el Día de Acción de Gracias that you would happily host.

You check on the puerco asado, the delicious smell making your stomach rumble. Everything else was ready – the roast pork was the last thing to cook. You had ensalada rusa, pasteles and moro de gandules. You picked up fresh telera from the bakery along with dulce frio and spiced bread pudding. Not one to forget the little kids who would be coming – including Nevada’s nephew and niece, you picked up gomitas (and had some soaking in rum for the adults).

It was no surprise that Nevada had the apartment wired with cameras. When you’re the El Jefe, everyone wants to take a shot at you. You opened the app on your phone, scanning various rooms – no dice on Trujillo’s location. On a hunch, you decide to look in the underground garage and sure enough, he was there – working on his motorcycle.

You smile and slip on your chanclas and make way downstairs – but not before lowering the heat on the oven, lest you ruin the roast pork.

“Nevada, what are you doing?” You ask. “Everyone is going to be here soon – even your egotistical hermano.”

“Ya me voy.” Nevada grumbles, barely looking up at you as he works on the motorcycle. His hands are smeared with oil and he is wearing a black tanktop and worn jeans. They ride dangerously low on his hips and desire pools between your thighs. He stands up straight and comments how he’s hot, before whipping off his tank top, wiping his brow with it.

You swallow hard, your eyes raking over his lean, taut body, covered in thick dark chest hair. But the furrowed brows and scowl on his face brought you back to reality. He seemed on edge, and this was completely out of character for him.

“Oye papi, que pasas?” You ask softly, approaching him. Nevada looks at you, the frown deepening.

“Nada mami. Go back upstairs and finish getting ready – I’ll be up soon.”

You straighten to your full height and cross your arms. Your eyes narrow and your lips purse. “No me jodas. Dime la verdad mi osito.”

Nevada drops the wrench and in two wide steps, he’s in front of you, meeting you eye to eye. His normally jade eyes are dark and intense. You match his heated expression and arch a single brow.

Nevada met his match with you. You both stood there staring at each other, nostrils flaring and tempers rising. Finally Nevada backed down, taking a step back. He reached for the wrench and whipped it at the wall, the sound of the metal clattering echoing though the garage. “You’re the only one who gets to call me that, you know.” Nevada replies irritated.

“Nevada, por favor, talk to me.” You reply, your face softening. Never had you seen him keyed up like this.

Nevada hops onto a stool and rubs his hands over his face. “It’s my brother.”

“What about him?” You ask, walking over until you stood in front of him again. You leaned into him – he smelled like a mix of leather and sweat.

“Every time he comes home – to el barrio – he goes on and on about being some big shot abogado with los gringuitos. He’s a fucking sellout – even changing his last name to be one of them. And then all I hear is oye, why can’t you be more like Bryan – look what he’s made of his life and all you got is el club.” Nevada huffed.

You look at Nevada sadly. “Amor, who gives a shit. El es demasiado. You have so much to be proud of. So you amass your wealth differently, who cares? I don’t. I love you, for you. I wouldn’t be with you if you were like Bryan, so fucking uptight with his skinny bitch of a wife. I am surprised they are even coming at all.”

“They have the nanny with them and they are staying in the city – who, by the way, Bryan is fucking.” Nevada laughs coldly.

“Speaking of fucking….” Your eyes rake over Nevada’s bare chest once more. “Want to have some fun before everyone shows?”

A delicious grin spreads on Nevada’s face. “Damn mami, I like the way you think.”

Nevada hops off the stool and you wink before you remove your sweatshirt. You weren’t wearing a bra, so you were clad in just your panties. Your eyes land on the massive erection pressing against the front of his jeans.

Nevada unbuttons his jeans and it’s no surprise to you that he is commando. You take your sweatshirt and drop it in front of him, using it as a cushion as you fall to your knees, your pulse racing with excitement.

You nuzzles his warm flesh, your hands trailing up his muscled thighs. Your pussy aches as you take his cock into your hand. It’s huge and thick and you can feel every vein and ridge in your hand. It’s perfect. You lick your lips hungrily and take his cock in your mouth. His cock felt heavy in your mouth and you relished in the feeling. You look up at him, meeting his heated gaze as you bob on his erection. The salty taste of his pre-cum floods your mouth and you let out a muffled moan as his hands wrap into your hair.

“That’s it mami.” Nevada grunts. “Suck my cock.” Both hands grip the back of my head, guiding you on his length, silently encouraging you to take more and more until the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. You choke and sputter, saliva pooling down your chin and dripping. You briefly close your eyes and relax your throat and again begin working his length.

You flick your tongue against the underside of the head of his cock. “Love your cock papi. But I like it better in my pussy.” You spat into your hand and gave Nevada’s cock a few strokes before guiding him back into your mouth. You began to rhythmically bob once more, while using your hand to help jack him off.

Nevada hisses and tighten his grip on your hair, forcing you off him. Your lips are spit shiny and swollen, your mascara from earlier in the day runs down your cheeks. Nevada drops to a squat, so he is eye to eye with you. His hand grips the back of your neck. “Is that what you want? For me to fuck you?”

You nod. “Please papi. I need it.”

“Over the bike.” Nevada growls. You nod and stand on wobbly legs, bracing yourself over the seat of the bike, your ass presented to him.

There is no teasing, no playing with your pussy – Nevada wasn’t in the mood. Instead he smacks your ass hard, resulting in your eyes being pinpricked with tears and a reddened imprint on your ass.

Nevada stands behind you and runs his hand over his length. He pats your ass with his dick before he uses his fingers to push your panties to the side. He teasingly rubs it against your folds. You moaned and tried to press against him, desperate for his cock. “Don’t worry my beautiful puta. You’ll get papi’s cock.”

Nevada grips your hips tightly and slides his cock into you, letting out a deep satisfying grunt. He fucks you earnestly, each thrust propelling you forward.

“Oh yes, just like that!” You moan. “Fuck me papi, give it to me.”

Nevada grunts as he continues to pound into you. “Damn, mamí, your pussy is so fucking good.” He grips the fat of your ass and rolls it before delivering another spank. Nevada feels your walls flutter around his cock and he knows you are close.

“Cream all over that cock.” Nevada encourages. He reaches around and uses the rough pad of his thumb to rub circles on your swollen clitoris.

You wail his name as the coil in your belly explodes, like fireworks being set off.

“That’s it.” Nevada grunts. Just as you are coming down, he pulls out of you and turns you around. You squat and begin to suck his cock once more, tasting the combined mixture of your and his release on his cock.

“Oh, fuck Y/N, oh fuck.” Nevada groans, his cock twitching and pulsing in your mouth as he comes, unloading his seed into your warm mouth.

“Don’t swallow.” You hear him say and you look up at him once more and open your mouth, showing off his release on your tongue.

“Muy bien.” Nevada grunts. “Now swallow.” You do as told and then open your mouth once more, showing off that it is clean.

Nevada pulls you up and kisses you hard. He trails the outline of your face and for a brief moment, the ruthless blood hungry drug lord appears soft.

You press a kiss to the tip of his finger. “Now lets go back upstairs before dinner gets ruined.”

Nevada pulls on his jeans and you slip your sweatshirt on. Eventually you both clean up and head back upstairs where you finish dinner. Both of you clean up, no one is wise to the fact that you had both been fucking just an hour prior. You watch carefully as Nevada greets his brother and his sister-in-law. You hand some gomitas to the kids and they both run off to see the presents under the tree.

You hand out glasses filled with ponche de ron to Bryan and his wife, whatever ordinary name she has, and you plaster a smile on your face. Nevada whispers in your ear as you nod along, pretending to be interested in the latest legal win the attorney had.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Nevada murmurs.

You cover mouth with your drink and turn slightly towards him. “Love you too papi.”

FIN.

Key:

Limónes: lemons

Naranjas: oranges

Peras: pears

Uvas: grapes

Noche Buena: Christmas Eve

Día de Acción de Gracias: Thanksgiving Day

Ponche de ron: Spiked eggnog like drink

Puerco asado: roast pork

Ensalada rusa: Russian salad

Pasteles: in some cultures, this means cake/pastries but for the purposes of this story, I use it as mashed plaintains stuffed with meat and its wrapped in banana leaves - these only come out during Christmas.

Moro de gandules/arroz con gandules: Rice with pigeon peas

Telera: Bread that only comes out during Christmas.

Gomitas: gummy bears

Oye papi, que pasas?: Hey daddy, what’s up?

Ya me voy: I’m leaving.

No me jodas. Dime la verdad mi osito: Don’t bullshit me, tell me the truth, little bear.

Tags: @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @delia26 @mgarner1227 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02 @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @teamsladsandgents @stardust-fray

#nevada ramirez #thatesqcrush holiday bingo #nevada ramirez smut #nevada ramirez x reader #nevada ramirez imagine

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glimmerglanger · 4 years

Note

*casts sneaky vote in for Spicy September* only because of the alliteration and not cause it’s sooner I swear... also a prompt idea- role reversal, Padawan now Knight Kenobi abruptly figuring out his former Master is in love with him and taking action.

The dark, possessive role-swap AU won the vote last night to get posted today! (By a landslide). This prompt perhaps shifted the most as I was working on it. It is TECHNICALLY about recently knighted Obi-Wan, but their relationship started before that. Warnings for power imbalance, past/current (very) dubious consent, and Anakin just… being manipulative. Also, Obi-Wan is tipsy in this fic. Anakin is much darker than I usually write him, if that’s not what you’re looking for. Dead dove, do not eat, etc.

I also came up with far too extensive head-canons for the backstory in this, because it’s the first time I’ve really tried to write an Anakin over the age of thirty, you know? Trying to determine how he would grow and change after 10 more years of manipulation by Palpatine was a lot of fun (spoilers: it has not helped him), also imagining his relationship with Qui-Gon. (I stand by the idea that Anakin would have been a darker person in general if Qui-Gon had trained him).

SPICY, not safe for wizards (and other things starting with “w”), dirty talk, over stimulation, d/s vibes. PLEASE heed the warnings re: dubious (VERY) consent, power imbalances, etc. This is the longest note I have for any of the Spicy fics because it’s really the only one with warnings.

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

Obi-Wan’s Knighting happened so quickly. It felt like one moment they were on Geonosis, fighting for their lives, and the next there was a war, they were back on Coruscant, and he was kneeling in front of the Council, Anakin’s hand on his shoulder.

The metal of Anakin’s new fingers felt cold, even through the glove he wore and Obi-Wan’s robes. He felt a hitch of guilt in his gut. It was his fault that his Master had lost a limb; if he’d just been a little faster, a little stronger, Dooku would not have taken him out of the fight.

But the brutal heat of Geonosis was behind them. There was nothing but the cool air of the Council chambers, the intent expressions of the Council members as he spoke his vows, as Anakin slid fingers up the side of his neck - prompting an inappropriate shiver, but his body remembered Anakin touching him that way in so many other situations - to grip his braid.

Obi-Wan’s heart raced, when Anakin cut through the hair, when Master Yoda smiled and told him to rise. He felt like he was dreaming, even as he stood and got a look at Anakin’s face - his expression seemed strange, unusually tense - and he gripped Obi-Wan tightly, when they embraced.

The rest of the day was a blur. The Council members all had words to say to him and his friends insisted on dragging him out of the Temple, afterwards, to celebrate. He felt Anakin’s gaze as he was tugged along, trying to call out an invitation, but something about the expression in Anakin’s eyes, dark and tense, made the words catch in his throat.

Obi-Wan was still thinking about that look when he made it back to the Temple, in the early hours of the morning. His head buzzed with drink, leaving him feeling loose as he went back to their quarters. He made no effort to be quiet as he entered; he felt Anakin’s mind - awake and restless - as he approached.

The lights were dim, when he entered their quarters. Anakin was standing over by the window, one hand braced on the wall, his shoulders a tight line, tunics gone so Obi-Wan could see the line of his spine, all the marks of different battles they’d fought together. Anakin’s hair hung loose, for once, across his shoulders. He was beautiful, so much so that for a moment Obi-Wan just stopped and stared.

Anakin asked, as the door shut behind Obi-Wan, “Have a good time?”

“Mm.” Obi-Wan shrugged. It had been nice, spending time with Aayla and the others. But he’d felt, throughout the entire evening, the tension coming off of Anakin through their bond. It had distracted him, keeping his thoughts always back on the Temple, on whatever was bothering his Master so much. He made his way across the room, asking, as he brushed a touch across Anakin’s arm, “Are you alright?”

Anakin turned away from the window without answering, all sudden movement, hard to track with Obi-Wan’s thoughts all blurred. Obi-Wan’s breath punched out, all in a rush, when Anakin pushed him against the wall.

Anakin was so close, one forearm on the wall by Obi-Wan’s head, his breath dancing across Obi-Wan’s cheeks. His eyes were dark in the dim light, capturing and holding Obi-Wan’s gaze. Obi-Wan shivered with anticipation, his body responding the way it always had when Anakin got like this. He could feel himself getting hard, without even being touched, really.

“Master,” he murmured, into the space between them, still not sure what to make of Anakin’s mood - he got into similar states often, quiet and intense, but Obi-Wan always managed to bring him back, Anakin said he was the only one who could--

Anakin made a sharp little sound, mouth twitching. “I’m not your Master anymore.” He said the words almost viciously, a curl of something dark rising in his thoughts, twining around Obi-Wan, leaving him with a shiver down his back. “And you’re not my Padawan,” Anakin added, shifting a little closer, nose sliding against Obi-Wan’s cheek. “I’ve been waiting all night to properly congratulate you, but we need to talk, first.”

“What--” Obi-Wan started, and Anakin kissed him, hard, brief.

When he pulled back, his eyes were burning. He said, low, an edge of desperation in this voice, “You’re still going to be mine, aren’t you, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan gasped, hands gripping at Anakin’s back, knowing exactly what Anakin needed to hear, feeling how much he needed to hear it, and rasping back, “Yes.”

He’d worried, the first time Anakin had said such things. Attachment and possession were not the Jedi way, but -- but everyone had said his Master was the Chosen One, and so, surely, Anakin knew what he was talking about, surely it was alright for Anakin to want him that way, just like it had been alright the first time Anakin pulled him close and kissed him, telling him, voice low and intense, afterwards, “You can’t tell the Council about this, Obi-Wan, neither of us can, or they’ll take you away from me, and I couldn’t bear that. Losing you would destroy me.”

Obi-Wan had never told anyone, not once, about the way his Master kissed him or - or any of the other things they did together.

Anakin made a hoarse sound, shifting to curl his fingers around Obi-Wan’s jaw, kissing him there, against the wall, hard and relentless. Obi-Wan hung onto him, melting into the embrace, because he knew what Anakin needed, when he got like this, his emotions flaring hot and demanding between them.

He knew exactly what his Master needed, and had always been the only one who could help.

Obi-Wan’s jaw ached, when Anakin broke the kiss. He was breathing hard, lower lip aching from Anakni’s parting nip. “You’re always going to be mine,” Anakin said, sucking kisses to his jaw, his hand sliding down. He no longer sounded like he was asking, only - only speaking fact into being, mouth hot on Obi-Wan’s throat as he nipped and sucked.

His Master liked to leave marks on him. Obi-Wan had learned that, long ago, and adjusted his garb appropriately. No one had asked why he started wearing the undertunic and high-necked shirts, but it was - was so important that no one see the dark stains on his neck, his shoulders, and--

“Say it,” Anakin rumbled, tugging at his belt, dropping it to the ground. Anakin shoved fabric back, out of the way, and the first time he’d made the request, years ago, Obi-Wan hadn’t known what it was Anakin needed to hear.

Those days were long past.

He gasped out, shivering and aching as Anakin set teeth against his skin, “I’m yours.”

Anakin’s emotions curled tighter around him, deepening. He tugged Obi-Wan’s tunics down, discarding them on the ground, trailing biting kisses out across his shoulder, rasping out, “That’s right, you’re mine. Not the Council’s.”

Anakin tore, roughly, at the closures on his trousers, shoving them down more with the Force than anything else. He curled fingers around Obi-Wan’s cock, strong and familiar and callused, and the first time Anakin had touched him like this, Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to believe it; it seemed impossible that Anakin would want him, but--

But Obi-Wan knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Anakin did. Anakin wanted him in a way he didn’t want anyone else in the galaxy. He - somehow - made Anakin happy, made him smile and - and Obi-Wan could give him what he needed, could help him, make him--

“Just yours,” Obi-Wan rasped, in dizzy confirmation, and Anakin made a pleased sound, dark and deep. Anakin ran a hand down his body, looking him over, as though there were any parts of Obi-Wan he hadn’t seen.

“No one else gets to see you like this,” Anakin rumbled, fingers brushing over marks left across Obi-Wan’s collarbone, his nipple. Obi-Wan shivered, breath getting faster from the look in Anakin’s eyes, from the way he said, “No one gets to touch you like this,” as he stroked Obi-Wan’s cock, proprietary, faster. “Not your little friends. Only I do.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why they were talking about his friends. But, then, Anakin could get… strange, if Obi-Wan spent too much time with other people. He had so much weight on his shoulders. So much asked of him. The least Obi-Wan could do was be there for him, help him, give him what he needed, promise him, “Only you.”

“Force,” Anakin rasped, leaning forward to kiss him, filthily, stroking his cock, relentless, nothing but pure pleasure in the touch as he murmured, “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, Obi-Wan?” And all Obi-Wan could do was gasp out confirmation, shivering all over as his gut tightened and he spilled all over Anakin’s fingers.

Anakin leaned back a little, just staring down at him, before he said, thick, “On your knees.”

Obi-Wan shivered, responding automatically, still lost in a haze of pleasure. He sank down, murmuring, “Yes, Master,” from long, long habit, and listening to Anakin make a hoarse, hungry sound. Anakin may not have, technically, been his Master anymore, but--but he’d long ago grown accustomed to murmuring the words, to just… doing as Anakin said, obeying his Master.

“You look so good like this,” Anakin rasped, hand still braced on the wall, reaching out to cup Obi-Wan’s jaw with his other hand, thumb stroking across Obi-Wan’s bottom lip. Obi-Wan’s breath was coming fast, shaky, his head buzzing.

He opened his mouth without prompting, when Anakin let go, tugging himself free of his slacks, his cock hard already. Obi-Wan licked across his lips, making them slick, and felt his eyes flutter as Anakin slid into his mouth.

Anakin had taught him how to properly lick and suck, taught him how to relax into it, taught him how not to gag at the pressure against the back of his throat. Sometimes, Anakin wanted him to hollow his cheeks, to bob his head and linger. And, sometimes, Anakin wanted to grip the short strands of his hair, to tilt his head just so and to fuck into his mouth and throat.

Anakin panted above him, pushing the back of Obi-Wan’s head against the wall. Obi-Wan didn’t choke, when Anakin pushed in, breath caught inside his chest, feeling every inch of Anakin’s cock. He wondered, in that vague, distant way his thoughts arrived, when Anakin was like this, if Anakin would come in his mouth or across his skin, if--

Anakin pulled out of his mouth an age later with a bitten off curse, his cock wet and hard. Obi-Wan coughed, gasping for breath, feeling his pulse throbbing in his face, the air cool on the wet skin of his cheeks and chin. He’d made a mess, but he always did, when Anakin fucked his throat.

He didn’t choke and gag anymore, but the way his eyes watered seemed to be some kind of… built in thing. Unavoidable. “Come here,” Anakin ground out, grabbing his arms and drawing him to his feet while his head was still swimming, while his thoughts were all quiet and scattered. He could only distantly sense the other Jedi in the Temple, the world beyond. Anakin’s emotions and needs filled the room, filled his head, and he shivered when Anakin kissed him, hard.

“My Obi-Wan,” Anakin panted, against his mouth, after a moment, stroking a hand back over his hair, other hand sliding down Obi-Wan’s body, over his stomach, brushing across his half-hard cock. Anakin made a thoughtful little sound when Obi-Wan jumped - still sensitive - and curled fingers around him, stroking him, slow and firm, until he’d hardened again, despite the strange ache it left in his gut. “You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan nodded; he’d always tried to do well, to be a good Padawan, to be what Anakin needed. He felt Anakin smile, felt his approval and pleasure, right before Anakin brushed a kiss against his jaw, and said, “Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, not even thinking to protest. He always listened to what Anakin told him to do. He didn’t see why that would change, even if he weren’t Anakin’s Padawan anymore. He turned, years of training letting him stay steady, even though his head was swimming. He put his hands to the cool wall, and Anakin made an appreciative sound, dragging both hands down his sides, grip settling at his hips.

Obi-Wan gasped when Anakin shifted closer behind him, cock dragging over his skin. “I need you,” Anakin panted out. “Force, Obi-Wan. Do you see how hard you make me? How desperate? I need you so kriffing much…” He took a hand off Obi-Wan’s skin, and Obi-Wan’s breath caught when, a moment later, something slick spilled over his skin, when he heard the tell-tale sound of Anakin slicking himself up.

They’d--they’d been intimate, earlier. Before his Knighting. Anakin had been desperate, had needed him, has pressed him into their mattress and pinned his hands, fucking him hard and fast. He was still sore, aching. But it meant he was still stretched, a little, and--

And Obi-Wan forgot how to breathe, for a moment, anyway, when Anakin pushed into him, murmuring, “None of your friends know how you look like this. All reddened. Used. Desperate for it again.” He reached around to curl fingers around Obi-Wan’s cock at the same time, the sensation teetering on the edge of far too much.

Obi-Wan reached out to the Force, the way he’d learned how to do. “There you go, breathe,” Anakin murmured, stroking his cock, “you always do this so well, Obi-Wan.” And - and the praise made him shiver, even as Anakin shifted back and pushed in once more, further, Obi-Wan giving around him in a series of breathless moments, only distantly aware of the sounds he was making, all caught up in touch, in the buzz in his nerves, until Anakin’s hips were flush with his skin.

“And why,” Anakin said, like he was picking up some conversation Obi-Wan had lost track of, his voice dark and his emotions all close and swirling, as he rocked his hips, fucking Obi-Wan slow and deep. Purposeful, hand moving constantly over Obi-Wan’s cock. “Do you take me so well, hm?”

Obi-Wan knew the answer, knew it out of his head, knew it breathless, knew it with his shoulders trembling and his fingers flexing against the wall, so close to an orgasm that he knew would ache. He gasped out, “Because I’m yours.”

Anakin made a low sound, all approval, pace picking up, his hips snapping forward and the sound of skin on skin filled their quarters. Obi-Wan cried out again, pushed right up to the edge despite the discomfort, the burn, Anakin’s pleasure all in his head, all in his nerves, his own echoing out with each thrust because - because Anakin always made him feel good, when they did this, touched places inside of him Obi-Wan had never knew about and--

“There you go,” Anakin murmured, thick and pleased, when Obi-Wan came, and oh, it felt so good and it left him aching all at once, trembling as Anakin shifted and fucked him harder. He felt so sensitive he could barely breathe, floundering, his heart skipping beats.

He kept his hands on the wall, though, through all of it. He let his head dip forward, all the muscles in his shoulders shaking, feeling sweat slide down his back, feeling Anakin’s hands gripping into his hips - there’d be new marks, he knew, layered on top of the purple-green bruises already there, and--

“I can’t lose you,” Anakin panted, thrusts getting more desperate, the sounds of them moving together filling the air. “I can’t, kriff, you’re all that keeps me sane, you know that, don’t you? I love you, so much.”

Obi-Wan nodded, as best he could, trying to hold himself together. He knew, he knew it all, Anakin had told him so many times. “Say it,” Anakin ground out, his needs and desperation like physical presences in the room, “say you’re mine, Obi-Wan, say I’ll never lose you.”

Obi-Wan worked his jaw for a moment. His voice cracked, when he managed to rasp out, shakily, “I’m yours.”

“Always,” Anakin growled, voice lower, hands gripping tighter.

“Always yours,” Obi-Wan gasped, trembling, hoping he was being what Anakin needed, hoping--

And Anakin ground out, “Fuck, Obi-Wan,” and pushed into him, losing his rhythm - finally - coming with a low, ragged sound. Obi-Wan felt shiveringly aware of the length of him, the stretch. Each movement jolted through him, as Anakin breathed, heavy, against the back of his neck, just - just pressing a few kisses, absent, to his skin.

“Force, you undo me,” Anakin murmured, sliding out of him, finally, Obi-Wan felt each inch and muffled a cry by biting his bottom lip, head spinning when Anakin pressed against his side. “You’re just...irresistible. So perfect for me. Just for me.”

“Master,” he panted, his head nothing but sensation, all his thoughts gone.

Anakin made a soft sound, thick, and slid a hand over his hip, down, and Obi-Wan whimpered at the push of two fingers, just into him, the feel of leather moving into his body unfamiliar and shocking. It was so far past the edge of what he thought he could bear, but he bit back the words “I can’t.”

Anakin hated it, when he said that. And - and Anakin knew, what he could do, he was the Chosen One and he--

“I could never let you go,” Anakin murmured, soft, lazily working his fingers in and out, over flesh so sensitive that Obi-Wan wanted to grab his wrist, but he’d learned self-control. Even the Council had remarked upon it. He crooked his fingers, and Obi-Wan heard himself whimper, from somewhere far away, pleasure running through his veins alongside pain.

Anakin slid his other hand forward, after a long, long moment, curling his fingers around Obi-Wan’s cock, impossibly hard again. “I need you, Obi-Wan, you know that, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan nodded, jerkily, keeping still, back and thighs trembling as Anakin pressed against him, crooked his fingers inside, and breathed, against his ear, “You’ve been so very, very good. Just what I needed. But I need you to come for me again. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t actually sure he could, but he nodded anyway, rasped out, “Yes, Master.” And Anakin rumbled, pleased, emotions so settled now, all of his tension bled away, leaving just - just contentment and something else, far darker, that wound ever tighter around Obi-Wan - but he must have just been imagining that, and--

And Anakin worked in another finger, stroking him without reprieve, sucking kisses to Obi-Wan’s skin, murmuring, “You look so good like this, all red around my fingers, my come running down your legs. I wish the Council could see you right now, so they’d all know--”

Obi-Wan’s orgasm hurt, torn out of him, pleasure and pain racing through him as he cried out, knees going weak as his head swam. Anakin kept stroking his cock, and Obi-Wan whimpered, blinking his stinging, blurry eyes, another sound torn out of him when Anakin slid his fingers free.

He felt boneless and considered just sinking down to the floor, but Anakin moved before he could, sweeping him up with infinite gentleness. Obi-Wan pressed his face against Anakin’s solid shoulder, breathing unsteady as Anakin held him, so carefully, and murmured, dark and thick, “Congratulations, Knight Kenobi.”

#glimmer replies #obikin #as me anything #Spicy September Week #dub con #over stimulation #d/s dynamic #age swap role swap #please read the warnings #SPICY #long #dead dove do not eat #possessive anakin

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

intermission • v | moonshine

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. jihope + seokjin) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: homoerotic tension (?), delulu shippers, seokjin is a nosy motherfucker (as per usual) → words: 7.3K → a/n: it’s been,, ten million years,, sorry to my fox rain readers but let’s just say my brain has been a smoothie for a while but now!! it is still a smoothie but perhaps a little chunkier ;w; anyway, we love jihope in this household,, and seokjin,, is seokjin,, we love him too

— • masterlist | prev | intermission v | next • —

In a small studio apartment somewhere close to your university campus, notoriously handsome and oh-so-talented Kim Seokjin wakes up in cold sweat, his heart beating a mile a second and a chill running down his spine. “There’s been a disturbance in the force,” he mutters lowly to himself, a drop of sweat making its way down his razor-sharp jaw.

He had been in the midst of a wondrous dream wherein he, the universe’s protagonist, was being showered with praise and adoration after the sensational debut of his autobiographical documentary. Men and women alike were at his feet, peppering his heaven-sent toesies with the worship that he deserves. Everyone was there, even you had been there, his self-declared rival! But just as you were about to reach the head of the line, lips puckered and ready to go, Seokjin was ripped away from his kissies without warning.

You, of course, were not the reason for his mind-bending, earth-shattering, cock-jizzing premature arousal from his slumber. No –– Kim Seokjin does not wake up prematurely, for every moment of his life is a beacon of perfection. Only events of the most catastrophic order were able to wake him up from his slumber, so whatever cosmic force caused him to awaken must’ve been no joke. He had to take this seriously, as it might mean thousands of lives were at stake.

Seokjin jumps to his feet with a flourish, his entire body oozing grace, so much so that it would make any grown ballerina cry. He rushes to unplug his phone from its charger, unlocking it and immediately going to search through his social media accounts. As he scans through the tweets and posts, his well-trained eye sifts through the dreary and the mundane, his only intent to find whatever it is that might forewarn him of a natural disaster.

His follower count is stable. His engagement graphs show that his posts are at an all-time high. To any other novice, this might have been a sign that his gut feeling had been nothing but a fluke. Surely, nothing is wrong in the universe? But no, Seokjin is not some mere amateur! He wouldn’t be as successful at being a prick celebrity social media influencer if he didn’t have the reflexes that he did. He has to keep searching and pick out any little thing that might indicate that something was amiss.

It takes a hot minute (three hours to be exact) for Seokjin to find it, but he does. And oh, his intuition had been right: this was a level nine catastrophe. To give you an understanding of what that might mean, then here’s some context to scale: a level eight catastrophe would be if you ever found that he might have had a crush on you when you first met each other; a level ten catastrophe would be if Kim Seokjin lost all his followers overnight and was forced to relinquish his title as an Instagram baddie. So yes, level nine was dire, if not almost life-threatening.

The evidence?

...

To the untrained eye, it might look like nothing. But to a delulu devoted JiHope stan? This was a living nightmare.

Oh god, the signs are all there! The context, the timestamps, the emojis… They all made sense in Seokjin’s complicated maze of a mind. Like a seasoned detective, he’s able to connect all the dots to make a valid hypothesis that yes, JiHope is in danger of breaking up*.

[Addendum: Please note that JiHope has never dated before. Kim Seokjin is a lunatic and the constraints of reality do not apply to those of his kind. Please read the rest of this report with that in mind. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

“FUCK!” he exclaims (with feeling), dropping to his knees as he cries (with feeling). The signs are all there: something is causing a rift between his two favorite homos* from staying together and he, as the chosen one, must do something to save them before it’s too late.

[Addendum: Well, technically he’s right, but Jimin is bisexual at the very least, but that’s a matter of semantics… But that’s pretty much as “factual” as Kim Seokjin is ever going to get, so let’s take that as a blessing. Noted by: Min Yoongi (again).]

He can’t jump headfirst into this madness, however. He needs a plan; not only did it need to be foolproof, but it also had to be undeniably fabulous and downright heinous. Seokjin never did see himself as the morally right hero from those dreary Marvel comic books despite the allure of their skintight spandex and ostentatious capes. No–– Seokjin is of a higher calling, one where the hero needs to pull his dirtiest tricks in order to save the day.

Which is why Seokjin finds no error in his ways when he decides to stalk Jimin and Hoseok throughout their day, trying to pinpoint which clogs in his JiHope machine need oiling and lubing.

Nothing is ever too much for Kim Seokjin. In fact, he’ll go out of his way to follow them to their homes if he has to, but luckily (for Jimin and Hoseok), he doesn’t need to go that far. In fact, it’s a downright fucking miracle that his intuition from this morning had been correct, made apparent by hour ten (10) of his stalking misadventures:

It’s nearing five in the afternoon. Kim Seokjin’s patience and determination has been put to the test before, but never like this. He could never ever imagine himself setting foot in this damned place, what with its overflowing abundance of knowledge, nerds, and public displays of integrity. He nearly gagged the moment he took one step in the library, and not even the thought of seeing Jimin and Hoseok together was enough to settle the bile climbing up his throat.

To make matters worse, you were there too. Not that Seokjin particularly cares (he does) that you are, but there is something… annoying about seeing you just sitting there, teaching Hoseok like it was normal*.

[Addendum: It is fucking normal. As per usual, Kim Seokjin is a dipshit who has never worked a day in his life and does not understand the notion of helping others study for their courses. To this day, I can’t understand how he’s passing his classes, though I’m kind of afraid of finding out how. Some things are better left… unsolved. Noted by: Min “I’m-not-paid-enough-for-this” Yoongi.]

He had been busy following Jimin around before this, but he was forced to change targets when one of his adoring fans had distracted him while asking for an autograph, causing him to lose track of Jimin entirely. It was of little consequence, however, given that he knows that Jimin was also going to be tutored by you later on anyway, so he just hopes that Jimin doesn’t do something stupid while he’s out of sight for the time being.

Normally, he’d try to find out where Jimin was going next, but the hardest part about following Jimin is that he didn’t have a fixed schedule like Hoseok did. Even Seokjin didn’t quite understand what Jimin was majoring in, and he prides himself in knowing every single detail of both their lives. But for now, it didn’t matter; at least Seokjin was left with one schedule to follow, so it made sense to just let Jimin be and go to wherever Hoseok was probably at the moment.

When Seokjin had finally located him walking out of his last class, Hoseok hadn’t appeared all that different from his usual demeanor. A bit dazed maybe, but that could be brushed off due to the essay he had to cram for that morning (a fact that Seokjin had learned through various connections). He walks lazily to the nearby library where he would be meeting you, and with a heavy heart, Seokjin follows suit.

You were already there when the two of them arrive. Seokjin is lucky when your eyes train automatically on Hoseok, ignoring him completely. In any other scenario, Seokjin would’ve felt incredibly scorned by this. He would’ve immediately stomped over to where you sat, making sure to announce his presence to you and everyone else within a fifty-foot radius. But today was not an ordinary day, so Seokjin is forced to hold his tongue and save his bitchin’ for another day. And so, he quietly slinks away to a seat a few tables away, his contemptuous aura causing all the previously seated students to vacate the table in a rush.

Much to his chagrin, it feels like Seokjin has just wasted an hour as he watches the two of you being productive (Seokjin lets out a shudder), not even bothering to film your tutoring session due to how little information he was getting. The only point of interest is how pissed off you seem, though it’s not like Seokjin has ever witnessed you in any other state anyway. He watches as Hoseok’s sunny disposition slowly chips away at your foul mood, and to his awe and surprise, sees you crack a smile just as the hour was about to pass.

It isn’t like that was important to Seokjin, though. So what if he noticed that you were happier with Hoseok around? It’s not every day that Seokjin catches you in a good mood (and he reluctantly admits that it’s always nice to see you smiling, even if his presence unfailingly causes a deep-set frown to appear on your lips.)

That was of little importance, he told himself.

Seokjin had hoped that when Hoseok’s tutoring session would end that he might manage to see him and Jimin cross paths. Unfortunately, it seems like Hoseok has other plans as he quickly shuffles his things into his bag, looking apologetic as he waves a hasty goodbye to you. You and Seokjin gaze at the empty spot he has left in his wake, both of you knowing even without Hoseok’s admittance that this rift between him and Jimin was far deeper than either of you had imagined.

Seeing Hoseok so skittish has a terrible effect on one’s psyche, and Seokjin feels despair growing in the pit of his stomach at what might be an unsalvageable situation for the JiHope community.

“Nonsense!” his inner-voice (that suspiciously sounds like you) chastises, whacking him with a proverbial rolled-up newspaper. “There is no such thing as unsalvageable when it comes to the magnificent Kim Seokjin!”

“You’re right,” Seokjin says (out loud), slamming his fists on the table. The jittery librarian’s assistant by the front desk jumps up in surprise, but Seokjin pays him no mind.

Seokjin is so immersed by his own internal monologue that he doesn’t notice the aforementioned librarian’s assistant leave his station with a small handwritten note clutched tightly in his hand. Seokjin also doesn’t notice when he speaks to you with pink dusting the apples of his cheeks before returning to his desk, sans note*.

[Addendum: I’M SO MAD WHY DOESN’T ANYONE NOTICE FUCKING JUNGKOOK??? NEXT TIME I SEE SEOKJIN IT’S ON FUCKING SIGHT HOW DARE HE NOT SEE MY LIL BABY WALK TO HIS ***** AND FULFIL ALL MY HOPES AND DREAMS? I’M GONNA KILL YOU KIM SEOKJIN! (Angrily) Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to arrive, and he’s kind of hard to miss with how loud his entrance is. Seokjin nods in approval as the younger enters the drab library with an astounding flourish, complete with his hair gently flowing in the (nonexistent) wind and hips swaying to the (nonexistent) beat.

None of this out of the ordinary, especially with how unfazed the general library populace was to Jimin’s commotion. What is a little different, however, is the beaming, oversaturated, downright diabetic smile on his face, complete with his signature eyes creased into their cute little crescents.

It isn’t that Jimin wasn’t a naturally sunny person; on the contrary, his kind and gregarious personality is what drew Seokjin into shipping him with Hoseok in the first place. But there was something about this level of overflowing giddiness that is a bit… disconcerting, for lack of a better word.

Even you appeared to be dumbstruck by Jimin’s odd mood. You squint curiously at Jimin, taking his worksheets from his hands without another word. Seokjin covertly takes out his phone to pretend to take a selfie, but proceeds to tape the whole tutoring session for him to review later that night. He strains his ears to try and catch the bits and pieces of your conversation with Jimin, but he’s left high and dry when he realizes that you were the type who actually liked to whisper at the library, further foiling his plans.

“Dammit,” he mutters to himself, hastily shoving his “textbooks” into his sling bag as he moves to a table slightly closer to the two of you. He doesn’t bother unpacking them again on the table, foregoing the pretense that he was actually there to “study” when in fact he had goals much loftier than those of an ordinary university student.

He carefully adjusts his camera, trying his best to stay out of your and Jimin’s view. He cranes his head forward as far as he can, face crumpling (handsomely) from the strain.

Seokjin had missed it when he was busy relocating to his better position, but it seems like you had finally gotten fed up with Jimin’s strange behavior. He only sees Jimin look shocked by your irritability, but that quickly fades away as his previously dopey smile comes back at full force. Knowing you, your eye is probably twitching right now, but Seokjin attributes that to the stick permanently stuck up your ass.

“It’s, umm…” Jimin looks extremely bashful all of a sudden, and Seokjin makes sure to zoom in on his face for better analysis later. There’s a slight pause, and both you and Seokjin wait for Jimin to continue. “Do you know… uh…” He takes a deep breath, blushing all the while. “Y/N, you know Lee Sera, right?”

Since you’re faced away from Seokjin, he doesn’t get to see what type of reaction you might be sporting on your face. He has a guess though, and that’s mostly because he already knows what Lee Sera means to you.

Seokjin only just saw the forum post this morning when he was going through his social media. Since he was one of the only people who actually knew you were the author, he’d known from the get-go that Lee Sera had probably written that post revealing herself as the author as a way to get easy clout. Nothing annoyed Seokjin more than people getting more famous than him, so he was honestly a strongly-worded call-out post away from revealing the truth to the masses, but was eventually stopped by the thought of your desperate face from days ago.

As much as Seokjin was a slut for drama, even he isn’t that mean. He can be mean in other ways, such as by putting an ugly filter on your face as he continues to videotape you without your consent. Case in point:

“What?” you say, almost shouting. Unbeknownst to you, there is a pooping baby currently superimposed on your forehead. The film looks shaky at best, but that’s all because of how hard Seokjin is shaking from trying not to laugh.

“Do you know if she likes anyone?” he replies, still dreamy. The AR pooping baby is also on his head, but Jimin manages to pull the look off.

Seokjin waits for your explosion to come, but he underestimates your self-control because he completely misses the next few words you say from how calmly and quietly you speak, though he only imagines that you must be on the way to a mental breakdown soon enough.

The calm before the storm, Seokjin thinks giddily to himself. He could always post your mental breakdown on Youtube for a couple thousand views. C’mon… let’s go viral, baby!

Jimin watches you eagerly from the sides and waits for your response, but you’re too busy short-circuiting right in front of him to give one. Seokjin almost feels sorry for you, but he’s too busy trying not to burst into laughter as it is. God, you’re such a fucking sad mess.

Lucky for you, your timer goes off to signal the end of your tutoring session, and Seokjin notices the way your shoulders slacken with relief. And Jimin seems to have forgotten all about his query because he’s started to pack his things already, humming softly to himself. Once he finishes, he pulls out his phone to read something on his screen, tapping away through his social media as he waits for you to say goodbye.

You’re too busy packing away your own things that you don’t notice when Jimin’s eyes begin to bug out, his mouth dropping and his nostrils flaring with the intensity of his breathing. When he scrolls a little bit further down, he lets out a sharp gasp, catching you and Seokjin off guard.

Jimin has just seen the post, didn’t he? Either that, or he saw porn on his timeline, though Seokjin doesn’t think that would excite Jimin as much as the former would. You seem to guess the same, judging by how stiff you become at his exclamation.

“Y/N! Y/N, she–– she’s––!”

Your fight or flight instincts activate, and Seokjin has to scramble after you as you powerwalk out of the library, desperate to get away from Jimin and his revelation. Unfortunately, you’re not entirely in your best shape right now, so it would be an absolute miracle if you were ever to outpace Park “abs of steel” Jimin. Jimin continues to titter beside you, unaware of the waves of tension running rivers down your form.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she? And she’s so humble to have kept quiet about the whole thing, too. Wah, she’s so…” Seokjin hears Jimin say, and he has to stop himself from snorting at how blatantly love blind Jimin seems to be. Seokjin isn’t anywhere near as good as you when it comes to writing (though he hates to admit it), but even he knows that Lee Sera isn’t as capable as you are. Jimin must really be a sucker for bitches in tight skirts and basic nude pumps because honestly… Why have the knock-off when you can have real Gucci?*

[Addendum: Hey it’s me again… Just wanted to say… Why is Seokjin lowkey kinda making me wanna ship him with Y/N… This is for real weird… Stop this… I’m scared… Noted by: Confused Min Yoongi.]

“I never really paid it much attention, but now that I’m rereading the poem… she’s so talented.” Jimin continues to gush, and you look half a second away from painting the walls with your vomit. Your head is bowed, so you don’t notice when the library doors open and a student in a loose white shirt and flowy black pants enters, looking as far removed from the environment as Seokjin did. “It’s no wonder it blew up so much, she’s such a gifted––”

“Who’s such a gifted what?” the new intruder asks. Kim Taehyung stops right in front of you in all his indie glory, and the sudden apparition of another of one of your “muses” must have frayed your unraveling mind even further. Seokjin is already turning his camera to your face with a dramatic pan left zoom, the pooping baby filter still on your head. It slips a turd onto your grimacing face.

Jimin, ever the sweet himbo, has already forgotten about you and instead rushes over to Taehyung with the news. “Tae! The author of that poem you’re always raging about––”

Seokjin watches with interest as Taehyung elbows Jimin strongly in the gut, a strong blush coating his cheeks.

Jimin continues, undeterred. “The author of the poem, it’s Lee Sera! I know I always ignored you when you talked about it, but now…” Seokjin has already stopped listening in favor of watching the way Taehyung’s expression slowly morphs from bashful embarrassment to careful indifference. His eyebrows raise even further when Taehyung’s gaze sweeps towards you, unwavering despite the animated prattlings of his best friend beside him.

Inch-resting… Inch-resting indeed…

Seokjin leaves then, not wanting to be caught by any of you as he slinks away unseen. He stops his recording, an array of thoughts swimming through his head as he tries to piece together the puzzle in front of him. He’ll need to follow you, Jimin, and Hoseok again, and he knows in the pit of his stomach that the tsunami is fast approaching.

x x x x x

And so, Seokjin follows the three of you around like a parasite, waiting for any of you to drop the ball on him. It’s the next Monday now, and he’s still not any closer to witnessing the “climax” of his JiHope prophecy. While he is aware that Lee Sera is undoubtedly going to be the catalyst for breaking his ult ship, he can’t exactly fix the problem unless something wrong happens first.

Of course, he could always slip a laxative into Sera’s disgusting tummy tea when she isn’t looking, but Seokjin finished using all of them up when he slipped them into your breakfast a few weeks ago. Plus, drinking tummy tea is punishment enough, so he’ll hold his punches for now.

Seokjin has a strong feeling that today is going to be the day where something finally shifts. He doesn’t know why he thinks this, though he likes to tell himself it’s a God-given gift of JiHope senses, but he digresses.

He’s starting to lose hope in his trusty JiHope senses, however, when he watches another fruitless tutoring session between you and Hoseok. Man, if not for the fact that Seokjin was a delulu JiHope shipper, he’d totally be the type to shove Hoseok down the toilet in middle school. That dude… he’s too smart and studious for him, and Seokjin is always threatened by anyone who can get a score above 4 in an exam.

Hoseok leaves in a rush as per usual, and Seokjin has since figured out that it wasn’t because the English major was keen on rushing back home to jack off. Hoseok’s eyes search around frantically as he exits the library, like he’s afraid of running into a certain someone. It causes Seokjin’s grip on his pencil prop to tighten, so much so that he snaps it in half when he sees it happen for the third session in a row.

The situation in the JiHope fandom is much worse than he can ever imagine, and Seokjin resolves himself to fix it no matter what. He’ll even ask you for help, if worst comes to worst.

Hoseok practically leaves a dust trail in his wake, hurriedly vacating the premises just as you say goodbye. Just as Hoseok leaves, Jimin enters the scene with his signature bubbly laughter echoing through the rows of shelves. Seokjin turns his head towards the sound, but he can feel something is amiss already. There’s… someone with him.

I can smell the cheap drug store perfume all the way from here. Seokjin sneers to himself, crinkling his nose as the sound of another pair of footfalls confirms his suspicions right away. When he turns to look at you, the look of utter rage and disbelief on your face is almost enough to make him forget about the horrendous stench of Lee Sera.

Sera tears herself away from Jimin when she catches sight of you, and Seokjin’s heart clenches when he sees the utter look of confusion replacing the grin on Jimin’s face. She was just draped over Jimin’s arm a few seconds ago, but the complete 180 definitely must have bewildered the poor lovesick fool.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Lee Sera craved the attention she was being given after coming out as the “author” of the poem, though Seokjin finds her neediness distasteful. As someone who loved being in the limelight, Seokjin didn’t go around taking other people’s credit for his success! Clearly, he was the better one (as he always is in any situation).

Anyway, point stands: you look like you’re about to shit yourself from anger. Seokjin isn’t really listening to the conversation between the two of you, instead focusing on both of your body languages. Sera is playing the role of the remorseful peasant, begging for reconciliation from you, the ireful landlady who refuses to watch another second of her quivering lip.

It’s all very dramatic. Even though Seokjin is mostly recording the fight for analysis purposes, he’s probably going to keep the video for archival purposes as well. The rage, the hurt, the chaos… Seokjin could turn this entire narrative into its own wildly popular musical! He would obviously play himself as the omnipotent, all-seeing jack-of-all-trades, and you’d probably be played by some hag he can cast from the street. Seokjin can almost feel the Tony award jutting up his ass.

Slap! Seokjin jerks to attention and his dreams of his musical fade as he watches, slack-jawed, at the aftermath of your rage. The sound reverberates so loudly that Seokjin feels his ears ringing. In his surprise, he instinctively turns off his camera, ready to go and join stop the fight. Before he can take a step forward, however, a whirlwind shoves past him in a blur, but Seokjin already knows from his lean form that Hoseok had come to intervene. Seokjin hadn’t even noticed the lilac-haired boy was still around the library, but it doesn’t matter now that he’s here to save the day like the bishounen protagonist that he is.

Hoseok holds you back, but it does nothing to quell your anger. “How could you say that to him!” you cry, arms struggling to free themselves from Hoseok to throttle Sera. You look a bit like a rabid animal, teeth bared as you squirm in Hoseok’s hold.

To the side, Jimin chokes up in silence. He’s begun to regain his senses, limbs shifting as he prepares to escape. Seokjin doesn’t miss the shine in his eyes, tears forming and threatening to fall. He turns on his feel, high-tailing out of there without another word.

Hoseok says something into your ear and you nod mindlessly in response. He lets you go, watches as you chase after Jimin. His jaw is set, fists clenched by his sides, but he doesn’t make a move to follow. He takes one last look at Sera’s bamboozled expression, tuts angrily to himself, and walks away in the opposite direction.

Seokjin is speechless.

What the fuck was that? Seokjin isn’t a stranger to the current happenings of your sad love heptagon, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It probably could have been solved much sooner if you just confessed to him already, but he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the drama*.

[Addendum: She literally does not have a crush on Seokjin. If she did, I’d block her immediately. I didn’t raise Y/N for her to fall in love with this psychopath. PLEASE. Signed: Min Yoongi.]

No, Seokjin isn’t confused about the whole Sera thing. What he’s more confused about is why Hoseok isn’t going to comfort his boyfriend lover homie like he’s supposed to! Something must have caused a rift in their friendship, and Seokjin is determined to find out and fix this mess once and for all! There’s no need to fear for Seokjin is here!*

[Addendum: “Hallelujah!” said no one ever. I hate this dude. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

x x x x x

After spending an inexcusable amount of time planning and plotting later that night, Seokjin comes to campus early the next day to put his incredibly profound plan into motion. Lucky for Seokjin, he’s equipped with a myriad of skills that go beyond that of acting and being a nuisance, so it comes as no surprise that he’s quite handy with Photoshop. He uses his Amazing Incredible Fantastic Photoshop skillz to their limits to print out a dozen or so fake posters for a new dance exhibition on Saturday.

Why? Because Seokjin is a genius of course! He knows for certain that Jimin will want to attend the exhibition to cheer himself up after the whole Sera debacle. He always did like watching the university’s dance club from the windows, always wistfully looking but never joining even though he COULD dance if he WANTED to but of course he wouldn’t! Because his beloved Hoseokie-hyung wouldn’t be there to be his partner and it’s all very sad and romantic, yadayadayada… Long story short, Seokjin is whipped for this BL trope and he will die on this hill if he has to!

However, Hoseok is going to be a bit harder to bait... He’d never be caught dead attending a dance exhibition, so Seokjin has to scavenge the last remaining brain cells he has to think of an event that Hoseok would want to go to. He settles on making a fake poster for a book signing by Pi Ness Hughman that is “mandatory” for all English Literature majors to attend. He even goes the whole way and makes a spoof e-mail to send to Hoseok, and no, Seokjin will not be explaining how he did that because he might be bordering on being a criminal, but that doesn’t mean he wants other people to be criminals too. That’s just how great of a person he is!

And what does any of this have to do with anything? Well… He’s going to lock them together inside a classroom and hope that they solve their differences there. Is Seokjin certain that his plan is going to work? Not at all. Is it more likely to use this as an excuse to get inspiration for his upcoming 100K slow burn enemies to lover fic that he’s been planning on starting? Absolutely.

Point of the matter is that Team Kim Seokjin never loses, and he’ll still end up on top even if everything goes to shit, and that is honestly all that matters.

Seokjin proceeds with his plan, going as smoothly as he can. He places the posters around areas that he is sure the duo would pass by. He also makes sure to accidentally “misplace” other posters and advertisements on the cork board that might serve as distractions, but you didn’t hear that from him. He watches stealthily from the shadows, carefully keeping track of their movements to make sure that they see the posters and that everything goes according to keikaku*.

[Addendum: Hey, it’s Yoongi again. I just wanted to say that I saw Seokjin when he was doing this because I caught him taking down some of the ads near my residence, and let me just say that his version of “making sure they see his fake posters” is literally just shoving the papers in their faces and then running away as soon as he can. So, I guess he did succeed on what he aimed to do, but was it moral? Was it just? Well, dear reader… I’m leaving that judgment up to you. (Tiredly) Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

It’s Saturday afternoon and Seokjin has just finished setting up his “trap” when he hears footsteps approaching where he was. He quickly jumps inside a nearby utility closet, keeping the door ajar to observe the upcoming interaction. Seokjin doesn’t even need to look to know that it’s Hoseok who has arrived first, always notoriously strict when it comes to scheduled meetings. He begins to worry, realizing belatedly that Jimin is the exact opposite of Hoseok when it comes to things like this, and while that makes for a good fanfic couple trope, it doesn’t really help Seokjin in this case.

He watches Hoseok peek into the classroom, brows scrunched in confusion as he must wonder why nobody seems to be at the supposed book signing. He snatches the poster from inside his satchel, squinting at the meeting details that should say that his class was supposed to meet at this very much abandoned classroom in the Law building. For how smart Hoseok is, he certainly didn’t question the sketchiness of the venue that Seokjin had chosen.

Hoseok taps his shoes against the linoleum floor, lips pursed as he debates on what to do. Just as Seokjin is about to blow his cover and just shove Hoseok into the classroom himself, a loud bang resounds from the end of the hall. They both flinch, looking over to see a head of red hair zooming towards them.

Jimin is dressed haphazardly in a ripped jean jacket and comically short shorts – you wouldn’t be able to tell what season it was based on his clothes alone. He looks like he’d just jumped out of bed, what with the noticeable drool stain still caked around his chin. He grinds to a halt in front of the classroom, breathing heavily through his mouth and still not yet aware of the company he has found himself with.

“Jimin? What the fuck?” Hoseok exclaims, staring incredulously at him. Jimin finally looks up, pausing in his heavy breathing to stare back.

He straightens up, pointing an accusing finger at the elder. “GASP! What are you doing here?”

Hoseok points his own finger. “Did you just say ‘gasp’ in real life?”

“I asked you first!”

“I asked you second!”

“Well,” Hoseok coughs awkwardly, gesturing to the empty classroom mindlessly. “I’m supposed to be here for a book signing, but I feel like I got a fake ad by accident.”

“Hah! Foolish of you,” Jimin snorts, nose high in the air. He procures his own fake poster from his short pockets, presenting it to Hoseok. “You must be Miss Steak Anne, because this classroom is supposed to be where a dance exhibition is being held. I knew you wanted to watch them dance! You’re just trying to cover up your embarrassment!”

“What?” Hoseok splutters, snatching the poster from his hands. He reads it, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin’s masterpiece of deception. “Dude. The poster is fake too. They spelled ‘dance’ like ‘dunce.’”

Jimin takes it back, slack-jawed when he sees that Hoseok was right. “What the fuck,” he says. He groans, smacking himself in the face. “I’m the foolish one now!”

Before Hoseok can retort, Seokjin chooses that moment to burst forth from his hiding place. “Hello, boys!” he greets, not waiting for a response. The two boys jump in surprise, but they don’t even have time to scream before Seokjin promptly shoves them into the classroom. He clicks the lock in place, grateful that he scouted this place during his first year in case he’d ever need somewhere to lock his unsuspecting classmates in*.

[Addendum: Me. It was me. He locked me in there when I told him JiHope was the worst ship on campus. Y/NKook for life! Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

“Hey! Let us out!” Jimin yells from behind the door, his tiny fists banging uselessly against the door. Seokjin cackles maniacally from the outside, doing a funny dance through the frosted glass window.

“Not until you guys fix whatever angst bullshit you have going on! I’ll be back in an hour. Until then, homos!” Seokjin singsongs, skipping away from the mess he created. But not to worry, dear readers, for Seokjin had planted microphones all over the classroom in advance so that we may all be privy to the ensuing drama/hotness courtesy of JiHope! Oh, how incredibly big-brained of him! The following is a transcript of the aforementioned recording because, as you know, Seokjin always wins.

Transcript by Min Yoongi:*

[Addendum: Paid-slash-blackmailed, by the way. I would never do this willingly. He knows too much about me… It’s sickening but also he offered to buy me chicken nuggets and I’d be an idiot to decline that. Anyway, here’s this pile of shit. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

[0:00] *heavy banging from Jimin’s tiny baby fists*

[0:10] Jimin: Ugh, this shit BLOWS! *proceeds to stomp around like a baby before sliding to the ground with a thud*

[0:20] Hoseok: Well, it could be worse. We could have been kidnapped by a serial killer.

[0:25] Jimin: I’m pretty sure Kim Seokjin categorizes as one, but go off.

[0:30] Hoseok: *grumbling* I’m just trying to lighten the mood.

[0:35] Jimin: Oh wow, thanks soooo much. This is all your fault, by the way. Can’t believe your dumbass got bamboozled by Seokjin.

[0:40] Hoseok: How the fuck is this my fault? You were fooled too! And will you stop sitting like that? I can see everything with how short your shorts are.

[0:45] Jimin: Oh, and now you’re going to police how I dress? Bitch, people would be honored to see my nuts! They’re prized nuts!

[0:50] Hoseok: *snorts* Sure, if you say so.

[0:55] *there is a short pause and you can hear Jimin’s heavy breathing* Jimin, mumbling: Taehyung says my nuts are great…

[1:00] Hoseok: Well, Taehyung is an idiot. He probably says that shit to everybody.

[1:05] Jimin: *gasps* TAKE THAT BACK! HE’S MY FUCKING SOULMATE!”

[1:10] Hoseok: Oh, he’s your soulmate, is he? Guess you like throwing that word around to just about anybody, huh? Because last time, I remember you calling me your soulmate!”

[1:15-6:15] *literally just five minutes of silence* *you can hear Jimin crying a little bit but it’s obvious he’s trying to hold it in* *Hoseok (?) or maybe Jimin is pacing around*

[6:20] Hoseok: I, uhh... *hesitates some more* I didn’t... Mean to say that.

[6:25] Jimin: *starts to laugh hysterically* Fuck…

[6:30] Jimin: *slams his tiny baby hand against the wall again* Fuck!

[6:35] Jimin, choking up: You didn’t mean to say what? That we really were soulmates? That we used to be best friends?

[6:40] Hoseok, quietly: Jimin... No, I meant––

[6:45] Jimin: What do you mean, huh? I can never understand you. You never explain yourself. It’s always a guessing game with you and I just end up getting my feelings hurt because I always make the wrong assumptions, isn’t that right?

[7:00] Hoseok, choking up: Of course not. You’re right, I’m stupid and––

[7:05] Jimin, yelling: That’s right! You are fucking stupid! You’ve been stupid since day one and I can’t believe I wanted to be friends with you! *sniffles loudly* And I’m even stupider for still wanting to be friends with you.

[7:20-7:30] *there is a long silence except for the sound of Jimin’s heavy sniffling*

[7:35] Hoseok, sighing: I know that I don’t deserve to be your friend. I’m ashamed. I’m so fucking ashamed. There isn’t a day where I don’t regret not telling you about giving up dance all those years ago. I should’ve been more open with you.

[7:50] *Jimin stops sniffling* Jimin: Yeah. You should’ve. You should be. Asshole.

[8:00] Hoseok: And every time I try telling myself that I should apologize, I’d just get cold feet. It got even worse when you started hanging around Taehyung more... And I just... Lost it.

[8:10] Jimin, laughing harshly: Oh? So you were fucking jealous? Please.

[8:15] Hoseok: It sounds childish, but yea. I was.

[8:20] Jimin, quietly: Oh.

[8:30] Hoseok: And then when I saw you hanging off of Sera’s stupid little finger like a lovesick fool, it... It really fucking messed me up.

[8:40] Jimin: Oh my god. Was that why you’ve been so moody these past few days? Holy shit.

[8:45] Hoseok: When you put it that way... Ugh, this is so embarrassing. I’m really not a feelings guy, you know? I’m always just supposed to be the happy-go-lucky sunshine guy.

[9:00] Jimin: You’re allowed to feel, you know? Get rid of that toxic masculinity bullshit you have going on. This is why we fucking drifted in the first place!

[9:10] Hoseok, laughing hoarsely: Yeah... You’re right. *sound of a body sliding down to the floor... Hoseok must have sat beside Jimin*

[9:30] Jimin: We are literally so stupid. Do you realize how dumb our arguments sound? We’re being so childish, and for what?

[9:40] Hoseok: *sighing* I know… I’m the asshole here. I know what I did and I’m the reason why our friendship shifted. I’ve never been considerate to you and now…

[9:50] Hoseok: You probably hate me. And I used to tell myself that it’s better that you moved on but I know the reason why you never applied for the dance program is because of me.

[10:00] Jimin: I mean, yeah. That’s true.

[10:05] Hoseok: Wait, the asshole part or…

[10:10] Jimin: Pretty much everything. Yes, you’re the asshole. Yes, you ruined our friendship. Yes, I didn’t apply for the dance program because of you.

[10:15] Hoseok: *sighing* And you probably hate me, right?

[10:20] Jimin, softer: No, of course not. I could never hate you, hyung. Hell, I thought you hated me! You never hang out with me anymore! I literally only started taking those tutoring lessons from Y/N so that I would have an excuse to see you sometimes.

[10:35] Hoseok: ...oh. I didn’t know… I guess I’ve been a little bit too self-absorbed.

[10:45] Jimin: Understatement of the century, hyung. I just fucking miss you, okay? *sniffles loudly* God, I am so sick of crying all the time! First that shit with Sera, and now this…

[10:55] Hoseok: *panicking* Shit! Jimin-ah, please don’t cry… I’m such a fuck up! Why do you even want to hang around me?

[11:05] Jimin: Don’t you get it? You’re my best friend! How could I just erase years of friendship over what? Just because you don’t wanna dance anymore? Listen, I know I always pester you to go dance with me again, but I’d be more than happy just having you as my friend. I don’t care about that shit anymore! I just want you to look at me without looking so fucking guilty all the time.

[11:35] Hoseok: Well… I still want to dance. All the time, believe me. But… I can’t go around wasting my time when I made a promise to my dad.

[11:45] Jimin, hesitantly: Your… your dad?

[11:50] Hoseok: Yeah. He told me it was his greatest wish if I followed in his footsteps and became a teacher… I’m sorry, Jimin. I couldn’t just let my old man down like that. I…

[12:00] Jimin: Oh my god. You idiot. You fucking dunce. You dick for brains.

[12:05] Hoseok: What the fuck? What did I do now?

[12:10] Jimin: Have you ever considered… that you could teach shit other than English? Huh?

[12:15] *Hoseok.exe has stopped working*

[12:20] Jimin: Oh my god! I have a fucking feeling your dad meant he just wanted to see you teach kids, not necessarily become an English teacher like he was! You fucking stupid piece of shit!

[12:30] Hoseok: I… literally didn’t think. How the fuck..?

[12:35] Jimin: Are you literally just telling me right now that we could’ve escaped 3 years of stupid misunderstanding if you just hadn’t been an idiot? Give me a break! How the hell do you think you’d ever become a teacher?!

[12:50] *there is a pause before the two of them start laughing loudly*

[13:00] Hoseok: Jesus. Guess I really am the asshole, huh?

[13:05] Jimin: You think? Ugh, maybe getting locked in a classroom with you isn’t so bad after all…

[13:10] Hoseok: Speaking of… When do you think Seokjin is gonna let us out of here? I kinda need to piss and as happy as I am to be your friend again, I don’t think I wanna relive our toddler years together either.

[13:20] Jimin: *snorts* Gross. *shuffling* Hyung! Stand here! I’m gonna climb you and try to open the latch to the window over there. Shouldn’t be that far of a jump. Then I’ll just open the door for you.

[13:40] Hoseok: Jimin, are you insane? That could be dangerous! Let me do it.

[13:50] Jimin: You and what? Your skinny ass? Please! Do you see the gloriousness of this ass? I can get us out of here in no time.

[14:00] Hoseok, whispering: Assuming you can even squeeze through the window…

[14:05] Jimin, yelling: EXCUSE ME? I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT THIS ASS HAS WON ME MANY FREE MCDONALD’S HAPPY MEALS IN MY DAY––

End of Audio

x x x x x

Yoongi pauses from his typing to recheck the file, making sure he hadn’t accidentally paused the recording. When he sees that the audio does end there, he leans back into his chair, letting his headphones fall back to settle around his neck. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick text to Seokjin to ask what happened to the two stupid lovebirds.

288 notes · View notes

pl-panda · 4 years

Text

Damienette aranged marriage: part 3

Whoa... Two parts in one day. Sorry if this one is worse, but yet again I wrote this instead of sleeping.

Warning: there will be some cursing from Jason, but can you really blame him? Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 3

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“And why would you tell her everything?!” Jason screamed, still hidden behind Batman’s towering posture.

“Because she is my wife Todd!” Damian screamed. The silence in the room was thick enough that if the assassin swinged his sword, he would be able to cut it in half. Finally, Bruce was the one to break it.

“Fuck.”

This worked like detonating a bomb. Immediately, Red Hood, Red Robin and Nightwing pushed their way into the room and surrounded the two teens.

“You were gone for less than forty-eight hours!” Dick

“How did you manage to get married!” Drake

“You are just fifteen demon spawn!” Todd

“And who is she!?” Drake again.

Talia watched this whole ordeal with no small amount of amusement. That is until Bruce suddenly appeared next to her. His frown was downright scary even for her. “Explain. Now!” The growl was low and emotionless, but it was enough to yet again put the room in dead silence.

“Beloved. It is good to see you too.” Talia smiled seductively.

“I am not in the mood. Now talk!”

“Fine.” She dropped all illusion of niceness. “I made peace with old enemy of the League. Or even a shaky alliance. But to seal the treaty, an assurance was required.”

“And that assurance was?” Jason asked confused, earning a facepalm from Dick.

“The Royal Marriage. An heir of the League and future leader of the Order.”

“And that leader would be… her?” Batman asked, not fully convinced.

Marinette was standing there the whole time, greatly uncomfortable with the attention Bat Family was giving her and Damian. She did read a bit on them, but it was always Alya who never shut up about heroes. For the most part, she preferred talk about Ladybug, but lately there was slowly forming a rift. The aspiring reporter was falling into Lila’s lies, posting unreliable videos on Ladyblog. Rossi had it for Ladybug and Alya, together with the rest of Marinette’s class, was falling for her machinations. They still hanged out with Marinette, but there was this distaste forming around her. She was no longer their to-go person with personal problems, being replaced by Lila who was awful at helping others unless it benefited her. But now Marinette had more pressing matter than a pity little liar. She looked at Batman, then at the bat-kids and finally at Damian. They were all looking at her expectantly.

“Oh right! Sorry. I did it again…” She gave them a sheepish smile. “I am Ladybug, hero of Paris and Great Guardian of the Miraculous.” She stated. Most of the heroes (bar Damian who knew a tidy bit about the Order of the Guardians) were confused.

“Paris doesn’t have heroes. There aren’t even any supervillains there.”

“Excuse me?! How does nobody knows what is going on in Paris!” Ladybug shouted. “Ugh! Seriously?!”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Forgive me, Ladybug, but the Justice League would know if there was a threat in Paris. So who are you really.”

“Then ask Green Lantern. He was the one who laughed at my plea for help.” She scowled, but then her demeanor changed. She calmed down and gave a sheepish smile. “But guess I should thank him. I can only dread what would happen if Superman was akumatized. Or Flash. Or anyone really. I don’t think I could win.”

Batman frowned. He would have a talk with Hal once he dealt with this. If there was really a threat like that, ignoring it was not only stupid, but dangerous. And the girl was at best Damian’s age. She was dealing with this for how long? The way she spoke suggested that she was in charge. A child fighting in a war all alone.

“For now beloved, it should be enough for you that the two of them are legally married.”

“Like hell!” Jason shouted at her, waving his gun. “They are fifteen. No court would accept this.”

“Actually,” Tim started, “under some laws they can be married. For example ‘The Personal Status Law of Muslims’ in Sudan sets the minimum age at ten.” He spoke like he was reading an encyclopedia.

“But we are somewhere between Nepal and China. I don’t think there are such laws here.” Dick said, but his confidence wavered.”

“Tt. First of why don’t anyone ask me or Marinette about our opinion?” Damian asked irritated.

“Shut up Demon Spawn. Adults are working here”

“If you don’t shut up, Todd, I will make you eat your dirty socks until you choke on the stench.” The young boy threatened. Marinette cringed at this, not really wanting to imaging such situation.

“The marriage stays.” Talia stated coldly. “Otherwise, I will not be able to stop League from going to war against Order of the Guardians.”

“You are their leader.” Batman pointed out.

“That may be correct, beloved, but I am but a regent. Only after Damian finally assumes the leadership, his word will be law. I do try to reform the league, but there is little I can do in this situation.”

“Bullshit!” Jason cursed. “You are just manipulative bitch.”

“Jason!” Dick hit the back of Red Hood’s helmet, causing him to almost tumble. “Language. There are minors in the room.”

“Don’t worry Mousier.” Marinette noted that the whole debate shifted to English. She learned it years ago when she first got interested in fashion. Some of the greatest fashion critiques wrote only in English and she didn’t want to be left behind. And other foreign critiques and designers were always translated into English. “After today, cursing is the least of my worries.” During the talk, Marinette pulled her yo-yo to check the situation in Paris. The good news were that there was no Akuma attack since her confrontation with Hawkmoth. Bad news: she was gone for over forty hours already.

“What exactly is the deal?” Bruce sighted. He loved his boys, but he could practically feel his hair graying. At least the girls didn’t go around marrying total strangers. “I want the full story Talia. Don’t even try to deceive us.”

“As you wish Beloved.” She smiled and sat back at her chair. Jason was about to hop onto where Marinette sat, but Damian ‘accidentally’ tripped him. Ladybug detransformed and Tikki flew out.

“What is this flying mouse?!” Dick screeched upon seeing a kwami.

“My name is Tikki. I am kwami, or if you prefer a small god, of creation and luck.”

“Okay… I’ve totally seen weirder.” Jason shrugged and Tim was too busy trying to plug in his pocket kettle to make himself some coffee.

“Ekhm.” Bruce faux-coughted to get their attention. “Begin Talia.”

“Many centuries ago, magic jewels bestowing extraordinary powers were created. These were... the Miraculous. Throughout history, heroes have used these jewels for the good of the human race. Order of The Guardians was responsible for protecting and distributing the Miraculous for the good of all humanity. Some time in the past, League has learned about the existence of this artifacts, more powerful than even Lazarus Pit. A secret war began between two organizations. There was a constant stalemate until the Order was mysteriously destroyed without a trace. We believed all miraculous to be lost until two years ago heroes and villains using them appeared in Paris. Initially, we ignored them, long since abandoning this war. But then, some month ago a temple of the Guardians suddenly reappeared with the Order in chaos. The League attacked, but they were strong enough to withstand the initial strike and turn it into a siege. In time, we would have succeeded and wiped them once and for all. But instead, the Guardians understood their situation and reached to us with agreement. A truce and alliance, in exchange for sparing them.”

“Yeah right! Only an idiot would take such offer!” Red Hood kept arguing with the Assassin woman.

“Or a strategist. Either way, the League wins. They no longer need to worry about threat, but this way they also get an ally.” Batman remained expressionless, but he kept sending Damian and Marinette side-glares. He wanted to know how they are coping with this. The girl was a bit shaken, but that was to be expected. He would talk more with her later. What surprised him was that Damian seemed to show concern for her. The kind he usually reserved only for his brothers and father.

“Yes. While our methods differ, the League and the Order have a common goal: prosperity for all humanity. But to ensure that neither side would go against the other, there needed to be a more tangible symbol of this union.”

“Marriage of the heirs. In the past such method was often used to symbolize an alliance. It symbolized equality of both partners and parties they represented.” Tim acted as an universal encyclopedia again, which Jason did exploit to tease him mercilessly while the others focused on the discussion.

“And let me guess” Dick frowned. “If they break the deal, it means war?”

“Yes.” Damian simply nodded. The memory of his mother’s threat hanging over the girl’s live was still fresh. Now that he got to know her better Damian was surprised that someone so brave and strong could at the same time be such emotionally unstable or open. It was almost refreshing. His family was awful with emotions and beyond that women only saw his last name. Many times he dealt with liars who tried to use him to get into the pockets of his father. But with Marinette he was sure that she was genuine with her feelings. He could not find any reason for her not to be at the moment, especially after she revealed her secret to him.

“So what? We are just supposed to roll with it? What will press think? You will give Alfred a heart attack Damian.” Dick rambled. Youngest Wayne decided to ignore him and turn to his father.

“While this might be a bit inconvenient, I believe it is the best course of action for now.” Damian spoke with cold and calculative voice.

“And what about you?” Batman turned to the girl, who for the most part lately was busy discussing something with the kwami in French. Bruce was proficient, but he was too focused on Talia and Damian.

“I… I accepted that my duty as Great Guardian comes with certain responsibilities. If this is what it takes to preserve peace, then I guess… I guess I will roll with it.” She smiled at Dick, almost daringly. Damian smiled too. Anyone who teased his brothers like that earned some points in his book. “But I can’t just leave Paris. For now it’s peaceful, but I don’t know how long it will last. And there are my parents… Oh Kwami! What will I tell my parents! Or my friends! Or my class! What if they reject me for this and I will be kicked from home, then I will not become a professional designer and I will never fulfill my dream and I will be forever lonely…” She unintentionally rambled in mixture of English and French while walking in circle and waving her hands. Damian grabbed her by her wrists to stop her before she accidentally knocked someone out and then cupped her hands with his. She was still talking random stuff, which made absolutely zero sense. Damn. She is cute when she is rambling. What!? He shut down the intrusive thoughts and focused on the girl… his wife.

“Calm down. Take deep breaths. You will not be alone.” He hoped it would work, but she barely slowed down. He sighted. Damian looked her deep in her bluebell eyes and she saw the two whirlpools of jade green he had. They were more prominent that Adrien’s. “Listen to my voice. All is going to be fine. We will not leave you.” This time, it did work and she calmed down.

Rest of the Batfam watched in shock how Damian has acted. It was most unusual for him to initiate physical contact at all, much less act this gentle. They looked at Talia, but she shrugged.

“I didn’t do anything if that’s what you think.” She smirked. “But I don’t think I needed.” Two newly-wed were just standing there, starring in each other’s eyes.

“Robin!” Batman finally got him to break out of this. “We gotta go. We will figure out exactly what to do later.”

“Fine. But we are taking Marinette with us.” Damian stubbornly stated.

“Yes. She should not stay here. And I have more questions for her.”

The flight to Paris was surprisingly fast. They traveled in perfect silence, but she felt rather uncomfortable with how everyone (bar Damian) sent her a suspicious glares. Finally, they landed around 8 PM on the rooftop of local Wayne Enterprises headquarter. She walked out first, happy to finally get back onto her home turf.

“Now there are some questions that needs to be answered.” Batman spoke.

“Uhm… Okay?”

“Stop intimidating her Father.” Damian scowled.

Bruce reluctantly nodded. “Maybe it would be the best to discuss it in private of my office.” He pressed some buttons on his glove and the bat-plane camouflage. Well, it was probably more of Bat-cargo plane since it could fit six people comfortably and still have much space free.

They got into the office, where Bruce had a total of five armchairs set around the coffee table. Immediately, Damian and Dick took two of them, leaving the head one for Bruce and one in between the two Waynes for Marinette. Tim didn’t bother trying to fight with Jason over who gets the last place, instead opting to just jump onto computer chair at the desk and activating a holo-screen. He quickly connected to Batcomputer and started to pull various files (mostly on Marinette and her close ones, but she didn’t see it).

“So tell me. What is our young couple planning to do now?” Dick teased them.

Jason was standing next to the alcohol bar, pouring several glasses of whiskey. Before Bruce could protest, he brought five and placed them on the table. His reaction to disapproving glare from the other adults was to just shrug. “What? They are married. I think underage drinking would be the least of the problems. Oh! That reminds me.” Jason grinned maliciously and pulled his wallet. He tossed something square and silver at Damian. “I don’t want any demon spawns junior running around soon.”

Once Marinette realized what was that and what was he implying she turned redder than Tim’s outfit. Damian scowled. “I have a sword on me Todd, so watch what you are saying. I might not have chosen her to be my bride, but I will not let you embarrass her just for your fun.”

Jason saw an opportunity and he would be damned if he didn’t take it. “Which sword are you talking about?”

Damian hissed like an angry cat and drawn his sword, lunging at his brother. Todd initially wanted to block the attack with his gun, but fine steel cut right through it. Seeing murder in Damian’s face he did the only plausible thing: started to run.

Marinette was inventing new shades of red with her blushing. Bruce gave her an apologetic look. “Please, don’t take his comments to heart. Jason is…” before batman could find a right word there was a sound of something crashing, followed by a painful yelp. In just a moment, Damian returned happy, his sword a bit bloody.

“Please tell me you didn’t kill him…” Dick begged. Marinette was not sure whether this was a joke or not, but the longer she stayed with the batfam, the less sane they appeared.

“Nah. But he didn’t look where he was running and toppled the stack of boxes and I ended up stabbing him in his left calf. He will live.” Damian assured them. And true to his words, a limping Jason appeared in the doors. He grabbed a fresh bottle of whiskey on his way to the armchair and slumped resigned. “Demon spawn!”

“Idiot!”

“Enough!” Bruce wanted to pull his hair out. “We came here to discuss a certain situation not stab each other. Marinette?”

“Yes monsieur Wayne?” She asked, still stunned with what happened. She had to admit Damian acter chiviliarus protecting her honor, even if his way was pretty violent.

“I was trying to ask you, what do you plan on doing now?”

“I… I don’t know. This all happened so fast…”

“It’s okay. I don’t think anyone would have a plan for such situation.” Dick reassured her

“Bruce does. It’s inside the safe in the batcave in folder labeled ‘Talia never gives up’.” Tim chimed in before returning to his research.

“Well, no one sane has such plans.” Dick tried to cheer her up. It did work even if just a bit. “But ask yourself what do you want.”

“Well… I would wish to finish my education and I always dreamed about becoming a professional fashion designer.”

“And how is this plan working so far?” Bruce inquired.

“Well, I do run a small internet boutique, where I take commissions and uncle Jagged refuses to wear anything that wasn’t personally designed by me.” She said casually.

“Wait a moment… Uncle Jagged as in Jagged Stone, the world-class rock musician?!” Tim suddenly shouted.

“Uh… yes?” She got confused

“But his only designer is the mysterious MDC! That would mean you are MDC!”

“Uh… yes?” Marinette had no idea why Tim acted like that.

“Oh god! Oh god! I got to meet MDC! Can I get your authograph?” He was suddenly next to her, holding a copy of the her first album cover she made for Jagged.

“Sure.” She signed it and handed it back. It read: ‘Good luck TD, MDC’.

Tim Fainted.

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Taglist (sorry if I missed you)

@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64

#fanfic #fanfiction #crossover #marinette x damian #order of the guardians #guardian!marinette #maridami #maribat #damienette #maribat au #league of assassins #arranged marriage au #batman

546 notes · View notes

megalodon-writes · 4 years

Text

Misunderstandings

Pairing - Akaashi Keiji x F!Reader

Word Count - 1.5k - Part II

Warnings - slight unwanted physical contact

Synopsis - The reader has to present with Tozen again

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

a/n: okay so I’m trash and couldn’t resist posting the second part already. I love this chapter a lot. This fic seriously was so much fun to write. I watched Finding Nemo, Finding Dory, Robin Hood, Home on The Range, and Oliver & Company while doing so... not to mention all the hours of HQ OST I listened to while editing. I’m thriving off of you guys liking my story so thank you 💖

On day four of realizing that Bokuto wasn’t going to text you after getting your number, your heart sank. You looked at the schedule and remembered you were going to have to present with Tozen again, so that didn’t help your mood any. You were sitting in the break room for your lunch and you gloomily were looking through instagram when your phone buzzed. It was from an unsaved number and a hopeful smile crossed your face as you read what it said.

We’ll be there for your presentation today.

You quickly saved the number as ‘Bokuto’ and slid your phone back into your pocket. You cleaned up your lunch and walked back out to the touch pool, noticing several kids trying to climb in. Thankfully their parents were around and stopped them before you had to. It reminded you of when Akaashi had to hold Bokuto's shirt out of the water and you chuckled under your breath. You let your mind wander, and before you knew it, you only had an hour left until the presentation.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Someone said behind you, making you jump slightly. You turned around to see Bokuto and Akaashi standing there. Before you could say anything, Bokuto enveloped you in a hug and it surprised you so much you would have lost your balance if it wasn’t for him. He let go and grinned and when you looked at Akaashi you couldn’t believe you had forgotten how stunning he was. His hair was a bit messy and you could tell he was tired, but the way he smiled affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“Sorry we haven’t come back. I got busy with work and school.” He said.

“It’s fine. Adulting is rough.” You laughed as Bokuto patted your shoulder.

“I’m ready to learn more fish facts!” He threw his fists into the air and smiled so wide you wondered if he was purposefully trying to show off every tooth.

“Alright!” You cheered. “We’ve still got a bit of time before it starts though.”

“Penguins, right?” Akaashi asked. You were surprised he knew, but nodded. “Can we stay by you until it starts?” Your heart skipped a beat and you looked around the touch pool, thinking only for a moment before saying yes.

The next hour of work was the most fun that you had ever had. Bokuto basically kept his arm in the pool the entire time and whenever he actually got to touch a stingray he would turn to Akaashi to make sure he saw. You thought it was sweet that Akaashi was like a mother, giving a small smile or a thumbs up everytime his ‘child’ turned in excitement.

“Did you guys know, rays are slimy because they’re covered in a protective layer of mucous? It helps them fight infection and diseases!” You said happily into your mic. Akaashi looked at you out of the corner of his eye, silently admiring how much information about aquatic life you knew.

“That’s one of my favorite things about this job.” You said, thinking he was looking at the grinning children. “I love seeing the kids' responses to fish. Specifically the rays. It’s all so wholesome and makes me really happy.”

“Is that why you stay?” He asked. The question caught you slightly off guard and when you looked at him he had a serious expression.

“Well, yeah. There are lots of reasons but that’s the main one.” You looked back over to Bokuto whose arm shot out of the water and he shuffled over, looking more sad than you had ever seen someone look.

“There’s a shark and I couldn’t reach him.” He frowned and held his hand out, moving his fingers slowly.

“It looks like Zippy the shark is back out again, folks.” You said into the mic. “He is a leopard shark, and he loves to be pet.” A group of kids gasped and threw their hands in the water. Zippy swam around happily letting several children run their fingers along his back. Bokutos expression started to change into excitement the more he listened to you talk. “Zippy came to us because he was tangled in some fishing net. Sadly, he lost his vision, but every so often he makes an appearance out of his hidey hole to get some much wanted attention.” Bokuto shut his mouth and rushed to stick his hand back into the water excitedly. Akaashi gave you a side glance before craning his neck to see Zippy. You bumped his arm slightly. “I know you want to pet him.” His ears tinged pink ever so slightly and you couldn’t hold back a smile as he carefully rolled his sleeve up to put his hand into the cold water. You could see the moment he touched the small shark, because his face lit up.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto cheered happily. You giggled at the boys and Akaashi turned to look at you with amazement written across his face. He stood up and quickly rinsed his arm off before returning to your side. For a moment, you could see his exposed bicep and your face flushed slightly as he rolled his sleeve back down.

You took a step into the terrarium after Tozen and heard a cheer from the other side of the glass. You grinned and set the bucket of fish down. Sadly, you couldn’t see out of the glass very well from how the rooms were lit, so you were a little bit uncomfortable from the fact that it felt like you and Tozen were alone. The only saving grace was that you could hear your co-workers voice ring throughout the speakers and you decided to focus on her and the penguins. One waddled up to you and took a fish out of your gloved hand.

“-two feeders in there. Say hi guys!”

“Hey everyone!” You said happily. “I’m Y/N and this is Tozen.” You gestured to him. “As you know we have a lot of penguins in here, but did you know that we actually have raised a few of them from birth?”

“That’s right, we’ve got about 6 babies that should be able to join this group in a few weeks.” Tozen laughed and threw a couple fish into the water. Several penguins dove for them and others squawked happily. “Most of ours here are anywhere from 2-12 years old!”

“Oh look, here comes Mino, who just celebrated his third birthday.” You said, watching a penguin come up to you and drop a pebble. “Sorry buddy, I’m not interested.” You joked, just happening to glance up at Tozen.

“Looks like I’ve got some competition.” He laughed, winking at you. You twitched slightly and bent down to the penguin to give him a small fish. “When a male penguin has decided who he wants to mate with, he spends a long time looking for the perfect rock before presenting it to a female.” You gave out your last fish and stood back up.

“Gentoo penguins are truly romantic.” You forced a smile and looked at the penguins to make sure they had all been fed. “They can swim about 22 miles per hour, making them the fastest swimmers of all penguins!” You said. Once the floor was open for questions, Bokuto asked a couple and every time he spoke a wave of relief washed over you. You wished Akaashi would have said something so you could at least hear him, but Bokuto was so excited that it made you feel a little more at ease. After all the questions had been answered, you waved bye and quickly left to change but not before Tozen let his hand rest on your lower back to guide you out. Thankfully, by the time you got out of the changing room, he was already gone. You could feel your left hand start shaking as you hung up the gear on the wall pegs. You held a tight fist and leaned up against the wall for support so you could take a moment to breathe. Inhaling for a count of four, and exhaling for 8 slowly started to calm your racing heart. Once you felt like you had more control over your voice and body, you opened the door. Akaashi was standing there with his arms crossed, looking less than happy.

“Hey!” You smiled. “Oh, where’s Bokuto?” You glanced behind him but didn’t see anyone.

“He’s talking to your co-worker.” He stated. “Why haven’t you reported him yet?”

“Why would I report Bokuto-”

“You know who I mean.” He said. You swallowed and could feel your hand start shaking again. You tucked it into your pocket to hide it but Akaashis eyes flicked there before looking at you again. “You’re clearly uncomfortable around him. Just talk to your manager about it.” He uncrossed his arms and placed a hand on his hip.

“He is my manager.” You said quietly. Because you were looking at the ground you couldn’t see the concerned look on his face.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that. Report him.”

“I can’t do that.” You whispered. “He hasn’t done anything.”

“So you’re going to wait until he does? That doesn’t feel right.” He laid a warm hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him. The soft look he was giving you made your heart squeeze.

“No.” You shook your head. “I - I’ll talk to him about it.”

#tozen makes me 😡#Akaashi x reader #akaashi x female reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyuu fic #bokuto #haikyuu writers #fanfic #fic #akaashi scenario #akaashi keiji x reader

100 notes · View notes

blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Cosmic Scheme Pt 3

Katy Perry: 365

…

Waking up next to you in the middle of the week

Never needed anyone to send me off to sleep

And I know I said go slow

But I can't hold back no more

Got a premonition this ain't gonna be a fling

“The slight was not intentional Thorin!”

“She stated none of my clothing makes a difference!” Thorin barked back tossing another of his shirts onto his bed trying to find a different shirt you hadn’t seen yet.

Balin rolled his eyes and sat on the stool at the foot of the bed. He wasn’t meant to lie to the King, but drastic times call for drastic measures. “That is because I overheard her stating to Miss Tauriel that she found you lovely in all you wear.” Silence fell in the closet and half naked Thorin stoically strode into the doorway pursed lipped to watch his cousin add, “It is the person within them she finds appealing.”

Thorin blinked and rumbled, “I should go shirtless?”

Balin, “I did not-,”

But Thorin was already turned to head into his bath to ready his hair, “I shall go shirtless. Our bond was formed in rescuing this peak and I was shirtless then. It is my strength and stature that shall guarantee her acceptance of my courtship brunch.”

Shaking his head Balin shrugged to the ceiling uncertain of how their King could be so wise and fearless a leader and such a buffoon in wooing you all at once. This was going to be the day. The first day of spring and he was going to earn the right to gift you his courting marker to drape around your ever so charming slender wrist if allowed to wander his mind would circle the notion of tracing it with his thumb while cradling your hand after tea or a supper waiting for the dessert.

You make a weekend feel like a year

Baby, you got me changing

24/7, I want you here

I hope you feel the same thing

Today was going to be the day. Although from the moment of your wide eyed good morning trying not to ogle the dark hair patches across the toned and broad King who couldn’t forget the feel of your arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist breathing deeply to remain calm through those memories, his eyes could not be torn from you. Or rather, the onyx wrapped large emerald cut diamond ring on a mithril band settled neatly on your finger for all to see while you tapped your fingers to your pen laying on your parchment waiting to be called to give the report you had on the job of restoring some old murals for the clan trickling back home again slowly by the day now that the weather had cleared.

While his eyes were fixed on your ring others had noted the gift a moment until the twitch of your brow and poorly withheld squirming in your seat alongside the ever clammier appearance you bore since arriving in this frigid hall four hours prior. Nori broke the silence however barking out halfway through Gloin’s report on the forge repair job he already shared with any within earshot several times throughout the day, “I’m famished. I suppose a day might be called?”

The tone had Thorin huffing and his shirtless self slumping back in his chair still staring at you grumbling, “Until tomorrow.” Blindly finding his ram statuette with his seal on the bottom he tapped to the chunk of wood between it and the table that rattled flat again post bounce while he pocketed the ram. Shakily you stood and with his head cocking slightly he caught a slight tremor to your hand a bit too pale for his liking he attributed to a once pointed out condition sporadically through the month leaving you requiring to snack every few hours or you could become dizzy. The symptoms you had hinted grew worse the longer you went without food yet he never allowed you to elaborate further as dizzy and weak was his limit right there he wished to prevent all together.

As a master of subtlety the King simply stated, “The ring is new.”

Now facing him his stomach dropped seeing you close to the shade of fresh snow bearing darkening circles under your eyes, “Yes,” all the same your weak self still smiled widely at him, “Kuu arrived last night, asked me for my wish. My mother had a ring like this, though the stones and metal was fake, I wished for a real one. Today’s her birthday, I suppose I wanted a piece of her to carry since I can’t visit her grave any more.”

Everyone’s heart had dropped and yet you smiled and shifted around your chair pausing with a grip of he back of it when he asked, “Would you join me for a brunch?”

“No,” you sighed out and his eyes clenched trying not to take this public rejection poorly, “I don’t think, I can-,”

Back your eyes rolled and when your knees buckled the gasp from Nori had Thorin wide eyed and lifting you in his arms not even letting you touch the ground. Straight to the Healing Wing Nori raced to send their best up to you in your apartment Bilbo rushed around in a frenzy to whip up some of the usual tonics for Hobbits that might work to ease your ailment presenting to be a bastardized version of what you might call chicken pox. Far from lethal for one your age, although no less debilitating or inconvenient and with all the Durins who had Hobbit blood already having caught it in their own youths they knew the bothersome time very well. Burning up to the touch but freezing with body aches galore and rashes to go with bouts of peeling skin towards the end of the ordeal. Little could be done but help you to sleep and keep you well fed and watered until it passed granting you time out of bed again under watch until fully symptom free.

I want you to be the one that's on my mind

On my mind, on my mind

I want you to be there on a Monday night

Tuesday night, every night

Are you gonna be the one that's on my mind?

3-6-5, all the time

I want you to be the one to stay

And give me the night and day

“We should ready the first bath, Bunnanunê should be waking soon,” Thorin rumbled out still yet to release your hand he had been cradling on his lap since your examination by the Healers confirming the Pox diagnosis.

Bombur nodded saying, “The cinnamon raison bread should be done baking and cooled by the time Miss Pear wakes.”

Dori, “How could you think of your bread at a time like this?”

Bombur huffed saying, “Miss Pear stated before every year on her Amad’s birth she would bake cinnamon raison bread and take it to her grave for a picnic like they used to have when she was alive. Share all that was missed.”

The sentiment had the men silent, Fili broke that however by saying, “We could round up some more furs, five fur shops in the market won’t have kin to retrieve the goods, all the better for us to keep her warm.”

Thorin nodded and Kili said, “And we should add more clothes, I know her size and we have all witnessed her preference for large shirts to sleep in. I will gather more. Surely she will sweat through all she has within a week.”

Dwalin however broke the lofty mood and earned glares by saying, “I will fetch an urn.”

Thorin growled out, “My Bunnanunê is not dying!”

Dwalin scowled back a moment in his huff and replied, “For her Amad. Yearly she would visit her grave, surely if we offered the Lass an urn she could fill with tokens reminding of moments together it might comfort her in the years to come.”

Gloin huffed out, “If only we had a likeness of Miss Pear’s Amad, I could forge a fine bust to place beside the urn.”

Bilbo’s lips parted and he darted off, “We do,” a few moments later he returned with an old cigar box he opened parting their lips seeing the photographs revealing moments of your years together from her pregnancy all the way to an image of her funeral with you curled up under her coffin crying.

Bofur, “Oh Miss Pear, just as stunning as her Amad.”

Ori, “They are near to identical. Past the crooked nose and mole Miss Pear lacks.”

Dwalin tried not to weep at the image of you as a baby while Oin eyed another of you in the bath he showed to Balin, “Does that not appear to be a ram?” Pointing to the birthmark on the top of your upper thigh near your groin, right where Thorin’s identical mark was placed.

Balin nodded, “Aye, it does.”

From the selection Gloin chose the best to grant him a full side to side guide to her face for the gift and hurried off to get to work in the forges while the Princes rushed off to gather goods and Thorin sat waiting for the deep inhale to signal your waking for the first round of stew and water to keep you well nourished through this before tucking you in to sleep again.

Love it when you come back and can't take it when you leave

Got me fantasizing our initials already

And I wanna just let go

Falling deeper than before

Say that you are ready, lock it up in a heartbeat

To say you missed your mother would be a vast understatement. Every day it seemed to be harder not to prep as you used to for that painful but necessary visit. Both hating and craving it to be near her again. Moonlight however seemed to ghost dust flakes in the air to view across you room and lost to your sinking mood dropping more and more in the past week as pain seemed to radiate through you more and more nearly keeping you in bed all day to keep from moving.

Green eyes from the shadow of the corner across from your bed triggered an urge to sit up. Achingly you did just that and up to the edge of the bed again Kuu, the Great Owl protector walked and came to a stop with his face inching closer to yours. “I can see you have an inkling of a wish, little one.”

On your lap your fingers wrung together, thumb tracing over the same finger your mother’s favorite ring used to sit on her hand. Anxiously you wet your lips and replied, “My mother had a ring, big emerald cut clear stone surrounded by black crystal on a cheap tin band. Said one day she’d get a real one. I wish I had a real one, with a big emerald cut diamond and onyx stones around it on the best metal band possible with a silvery shade instead of gold.” For a moment his eyes scoured yours taking in the memory of the ring you were picturing, blinking at your saying, “Unless, it’s too much?”

Around his beak his cheeks puffed out in a grin and he replied, “Sentiment is never too much, little one.” Lifting up his foot it extended to over your fingers and he stated, “Mithril band, the most enduring metal to offer well beyond value that will fit itself to any finger chosen for it. In place of a diamond one emerald cut stone of Lasgalen, far rarer reflecting starlight when the sun has left the sky, a stone of pure commitment that none but you may wear. Pure Onyx borders that stone darker than any discovered in these lands before with great powers of protection and consolation in times of grief or stress.”

“Thank you,” your eyes dropped to the glowing ring in your palm that you slipped onto your left index finger with a timid grin spreading across your lips. “So very much.”

His head tilted and he drew back straightening up again as if pleased that you had passed some test by the grateful tears in your eyes. “I am fond of you little one. Do not fear the shadows, I rest there ever watchful of those whom I choose.”

“Can I ask a question?” His head cocked again, “I was wondering, what do the foxes do? The ones that were here when I arrived?”

“When approaching my presence those to be tested witness those foxes, the greater their numbers the deeper innocence within. They are guardians of children mainly when not at my bidding.”

“Ah, makes sense. Thank you again.”

“Rest well. I must fly.” With that he turned and strolled back to the shadowy corner and down again you wiggled to stretch out grinning to yourself a few moments admiring your gift. Wiping away the tears that broke free when the aches in your body took hold again. Clenching your eyes shut you tried with all your might to force yourself to sleep, even imagining your mother still here to stroke your hair and sing to you as she used to.

Work was going to be hell if this kept up, and another meeting with the bright eyed King who seemed ever so flippant in your company for how he might consider you ranked in his daily life would not help things at all. You used to feel so light and free in his presence, at least until it seemed all you said or didn’t say was under such scrutiny somehow. Things seemed to be growing more complicated by the day. All the same you didn’t want to feel like this around him, you wanted to be happy and not irritable and wishing to crawl under a rock forever certain to irritate him even more by speaking rashly.

Ooh, ooh ooh ooh

Are you gonna be the one?

Ooh, ooh ooh ooh, ooh

Are you gonna be the one? (Are you gonna be the one?)

I want you to be the one

Days in and out of consciousness followed a strict routine until daily bouts of groggy ramblings from you were noted by those looking in on you to be shared with the hovering King later. Work on the gift came with ample time and effort to perfect each one to be presented to you later. One clay bed for a row of glowing nocturnal succulents that flourish in these dark halls would make a lovely little makeshift garden to settle the highly detailed palm sized bust of your mother into or beside. Most likely for a mantle or spare table along the wall to be set up later with the urn to be filled with whatever you wished.

All of their traditions were filled to the T. String of beads personalized with what details they could muster, a half pound of diamonds to add to the urn as her favorite stone with exactly 48 sapphires to, on the other side, shift to lanterns to light her path to eternal peace. One small jewel hammer and an anvil necklace engraved with the name of her surviving child to bear proudly that will shift to a brick to add to the dwellings of her clan. Bells for Hobbits on strings in elegant detail mixed with paint powder in a small jar and five thimbles hand carved from acorns gathered from Greenwood by the Elves who added personalized coins of pressed wax to add their own sealed promises to protect the child left behind along with pressed petals woven to form shapes of birds or the plants they were taken from.

Damp cloths were dabbed to your forehead only to be motioned away by your hand leading to a hefty helping of arguments from the King who returned again feeling that your forehead was clammy and coated in dried sweat. “That is what the cloths are here for, to keep the sweat from her brow.”

The muddled voice replied, “Well then you sit there through the pouting and swatting that you know is occurring from the young Lass.”

“That is beside the point. I gave you orders to care for my Queen. Now there’s no telling how soaked her clothes are.”

A pair of Dams turned huffing to go and towel bathe the woman no doubt ready to fuss about it. Thorin huffed himself hearing you being helped from your shirt and toweled down. “Water, water, honestly! Can’t go five minutes without water being splashed on me. Always cold, I’m already freezing, just let me sleep.”

Thorin once you were redressed crept into your bedroom hearing you sniffle then whimper out, “It’s so cold,” painfully he watched you curling up in a ball under a thick pile of covers sure to be coated in sweat once again in minutes, “Everything hurts.” Again you sniffled and he came to sit beside you rubbing your back hoping to help lull you to sleep knowing this was the worst part for you and everyone watching after you.

Slowly your eyes broke open hours later and still Thorin sat there rubbing your back, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Hmm?” His eyes landed on yours hearing your broken murmur while your next round of stew was being wheeled in.

“I could infect you. King shouldn’t be with someone sick like me.”

Thorin smirked humming back, “I have already endured the Pox when I was a child. I cannot catch it again.”

“Did I get anyone sick?”

To himself Thorin chuckled and stated, “All of our Hobbit kin in the mountain have already endured the Pox. No doubt it was one of our reinforcements who passed it onto you. Two of our Lords on the Council had bairns who just recovered from it before their arrival. Both have sent wishes to apologize for this painful time once you have recovered.”

Again you curled up grumbling as your head pressed into the side of his thigh, “Why is it so cold, and painful. Everything hurts…”

Thorin sighed, “I know, and you are burning up actually.”

“No I’m not, and they keep coating me with water,”

“That is sweat, Bunnanunê.” Up he helped you and sat with you while you ate then watched a pair of Dams help stretch you out and rub down your aching muscles once again coating you in creams to help you sleep and relieve the pain. The process that helped to lull you to sleep again.

Daily your focus grew a bit clearer between lingering bouts of pain and to the loud crash of thunder waking you from the storm in your dream of an icy tornado loaded with electric eels chasing you through your old town up you staggered and out into the hall. Through the silent Royal Wing you found yourself at the door of the fire filled King whose contact seemed to help warm you and ease your pain for the moments it lasted. Often in films there was guards galore and you supposed maybe in your haze you had staggered past them, but with his door oddly unlocked you let yourself in and under the cover of the thunder rolling overhead the creak of the door was missed. Straight in and onto the King’s bed you went tugging off your drenched shirt that fell to the floor. Up you climbed behind him finally feeling some warmth with eyes drooping at your body’s move to plop ungracefully onto the bed behind the snoring naked King falling fast asleep at the spending of your last ounce of energy for the walk.

A single gasp lured Thorin from his sleep and broke his eyes open to realize there was a familiar head of curls inches away. Lifting his head he locked eyes on his sister who was glaring at her brother. “Don’t look at me like that! I was alone when I went to bed, this is the first I know of company.” His voice low hoping to not wake you only for his gaze to drop realizing in the stroke of his hand over your just barely sweaty back his arm was draped across that it was bare. “Where is her shirt?”

Dis cleared her throat holding the shirt between her fingers, “This was on the floor.”

“I didn’t take it off. I would never take advantage of my Bunnanunê.”

Dis nodded and lifted his pants she tossed onto the bed behind him, “Dress your lower half or Miss Pear’s reputation shall be scuffed. One or not. You nude and her halfway would not end well should the Healers find her in this state.”

Thorin rumbled taking the pants he eased under the covers ensuring he didn’t disturb you to squirm into the pair then shift again to look over your back admiring the dip in your back and breasts pooled partly out from your sides underneath you. Tearing his eyes from your figure he saw Dis moving closer with a fresh shirt in hand carefully wiggled around your head and arms curled under your pillow and with a gentle lifting hand under your middle from Thorin was easily wiggled down to your hips and flattened over your back. A squirming grumble hinted that your pains were coming back and to that Thorin eased back against your side smoothing his hand once again over your back. “Thank you Dis.”

Rolling her eyes she said, “I will share that your Queen has trouble with storms. Oin has already let it slip on that mark of yours. Barters have been placed.”

“When she wakes I will help her back to her bed.”

Dis smirked saying, “I will check on her morning stew. Steal your cuddling while you can. I will be back in ten minutes.” Strolling out of the room with your old shirt in hand to add with the rest yet to be washed.

For his hopes of keeping his wording a secret the proverbial cat was out of the bag and in a slip into your apartment from the hall after a stolen stroll one of your Healers whispered something about tending to the future Queen again confusing you on who this soon to be Queen might be and how long you might have been out of it to miss Thorin getting married. Though the reveal of the crescent rolls made just for the future Queen with special jams on your cart had your eyes narrowing a moment on your first breakfast not containing stew. To test if you were truly on the mend yet or if your Pox would take a sharp turn and spike up again like the rare cases they hoped to miss allowing you some well deserved relief after three weeks of pure misery.

Somehow you had been engaged in your delirium, or at least publicly teased to be at how much attention Thorin has no doubt been doting upon you. Breakfast wasn’t close to what this was in reality, more like your pre breakfast breakfast. Once you had eaten and were left to your own whims you did just that, grabbing a tunic you had been detailing for the King to repay him and marched your minorly sore self straight for the King’s apartment. Right in you went and strode right for his closet making Balin smirk noting your determination for something that had you here while he was trying to get Thorin up in time for an early meeting.

Under his covers Thorin growled out, “Let me sleep!”

Balin replied, “The second arrival of Lords from Orcarni will be in a few hours. We must ready for their greeting.”

Thorin growled through a deep exhale that halted to the pants falling onto his back and your saying, “Get up and put your pants on grumpy.”

His head popped out from under his covers seeing you walking back to his closet, “Why are you out of bed?”

“I had to deliver a gift, there’s a shirt there too.”

Thorin turned over and Balin smirked at his instant bend to your will, though in inspecting the grey shirt his fingers trailed the embroidered hems with brows furrowing, “Where did you find this? The detailing is green.”

“I made it. You are running out of time get dressed. I am picking your boots.”

“Why would you make me a shirt? Especially one in these colors.” he said sitting up still naked in bed with the clothes on his lap.

“For one I wasn’t aware of your distaste for grey and green, and two my future husband should love to flaunt my gifts shamelessly.”

That had Thorin seeing red and Balin turning his head to hide his nearness to laughing at the rapid turn of Thorin to tug on his pants and walk to the closet, “Husband? Who is this intended?! Why am I just hearing of this now?! Where have you been hiding the little harlot inside this peak you have grown so fond of to shower with your hand made gifts?! How long have you been keeping this attachment to yourself?! I am the King-!”

“Here is a vest to go with your new shirt.” You said tossing it over his arm planted on the doorframe then turned to pick his belt and socks to go with the boots you left at his feet.

“You are avoiding my questions!” he said turning around following your path under his arm back to the bed to hand him his shirt. “Who is this harlot you have deemed to be a suitable intended?!”

Rolling your eyes you grabbed his pillow that flew from your head to hit him in the face he lowered as you said, “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask the future Queen of yours that you specially set aside crescent rolls and special jams for her breakfast that somehow found its way onto my food trolley?”

Balin chortled as Thorin stammered, “I, have no notion how you have heard that.”

“The Dams charged with feeding me said they were told by you explicitly it was meant for your future Queen alone. Then I find it on my cart, so put your shirt on and finish dressing to get to your meeting so you might be back at a reasonable time to explain how we ended up engaged while I was in my delirious haze.”

“I will have a word with your attendants.”

“You will put your shirt on and flaunt it, no telling if by the end of the week word will be we have wed secretly. Now be a good little harlot and get dressed.”

“Did you just call me a harlot?” he said turning his head to follow you on your way to bringing his boots from the closet doorway to the bed he was standing beside.

Balin said, “Actually Thorin, you called yourself a harlot.”

Thorin gave him a pointed gaze and then almost flinched at your fingers combing a knot from his hair you had untied the braid it was tied back in. “Unless you are heading down shirtless again, then I insist you wear it tomorrow.”

Just about melting from the severely intimate gesture of fixing his hair he found his arms already in the sleeves of the shirt he pulled on over his head stating before he could stop himself, “Oh I am putting it on. Not because you said so but because I am half naked and I am late with no time to browse my shirt supply, not because you told me to.”

Balin rolled his eyes starting your path to help him straighten the shirt he found surprisingly comfortable and perfectly tailored to his taste even if it was in the wrong colors. Next his arms eased back into his vest with Balin securing his belt after while you passed him his socks to add and boots after. “Enjoy your day, I’m heading back to bed.”

Your words halted his path and his hand found your arm tenderly, “How is your pain today?”

Exhaling deeply you replied, “Six, and a half.”

“That is not good.” He rumbled back walking with you on your way to the door.

“Has to go away eventually so I can get back to work.”

The pair of them replied, “Take as long as you need. There is no rushing your recovery.”

Balin, “It has been known to push too hard at this phase could do more damage than good on the invalid’s health.”

“Invalid?” You asked making him pat your arm.

“To bed, rest.” Balin replied.

Thorin added, “Tonight if your stomach is still settled the Company is throwing a supper together in honor of your looming recovery.”

Poking him in the belly he grinned as you said mid turn, “Go be a King now.”

He truly did love your gift and he did flaunt it shamelessly and kept an ear out for your progress through your next few meals until you were changed into a comfy set of jeans and a blouse you could easily sleep in if you were drained through the meal of your energy. Subtle strokes of your thumb to the ring on your finger several of the Dams tending to you complimented greatly on its elegant design surely proving the great taste your mother had in jewelry. All through the meal however everyone seemed to be up to something and in the midst of the change from dinner to dessert your tears came out hugging each of them tightly for the gifts they had assembled and helped to set up in your apartment on a table by the wall then led you back to enjoy dessert.

Eventually you had been carried off to bed again falling asleep in the musical hour after that to be tucked in. Slowly you were recovering and finding yourself a home and family here who cherished you. Silently stealing a moment once he ensured you were covered up Thorin sat down and from his pocket eased out a courting bangle with gem formed runes all around it he would explain in the morning assuming once again you would rush in on his getting ready possibly granting him the chance to request aiding in readying your hair in return for fixing his the other day.

His mind still forming the contract he would present to you after your awe inspiring discussion about prenuptial agreements. Finally a bridge between your courting cultures he could adore every moment of negotiating to perfection working out not just promises for the future of your courtship and terms to grant you any needed security and trust that he would honor every one of them to the smallest detail. With this he would win over your confidence in him as a husband after having proven to be a devoted caretaker. Back to his desk however littered with scraps of drafted ideas for terms he went sitting down refocusing on his latest idea. Though to his shock in return for his gift once it was explained you waited the day out feeling the braid he had fixed into your hair smoothing across your back as you wrote up a contract of your own.

Right in the middle of his last meeting his eyes turned to the door at your stroll in to plop a stack of parchment in front of him then stroll out again without a word. Impatiently he got to the end of the meeting and hurried to grab the stack while the Council left the King and his relatives to inspect the stack. Each page of the stunningly perfect prenup contract was gone over and as fast as he could Thorin hurried upstairs with his witnesses in tow to have it signed and sealed so that by morning everyone would know that a wedding was to be planned within the year.

It could be heard echoing through the mountain, inquiries on what steps they had not been aware of being crossed. “What was the final gift?”

“She wrote him a contract.”

Gasps always followed surely paired with heart eyes in “A contract?!”

The added statement of, “A whole twenty pages!” Nearly had Dwarves swooning left and right for the impossibly romantic gesture from their future Queen to their King.

That announcement however would come after a discussion on ceremony details with you. Breakfast was set out on the table, a full spread to welcome you back to eating regularly and while he had his back turned you reached for your juice saying, “And here I expected a crown incorporated around a bowl or porridge or something.”

However once he came back to the table he hummed back, “Now that would just be foolish, porridge in a crown.” Setting down a platter with the crown he had designed and crafted for you with a half a melon containing a fruit arrangement inside of it.

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shesakillerkween

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

#thorin x reader oc #Hobbit #lotr #Request #Sick fic #Soulmate

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prompt-wars-in-the-stars · 4 years

Text

Sorry it took an age! Here's the D&D Modern Star Wars AU with bonus Jango x Obi since you gave free reign with parings.

Obi-Wan was not quite sure what to expect when he had been invited to Anakin's 'campaign'. He'd understood his little brother had began playing a role-playing game once he started college and had been happy to see how it helped Anakin bloom in confidence and his moods mellowed out as he befriended his 'party members'. Obi-Wan had gone to a game shop and the young woman working there had happily helped him purchase some dice and books for Anakin when he'd realized his brother was not going to let this hobby go anytime soon. Seeing Anakin beaming when he opened the presents had made the disbelief and judgement of the worker's worth it. Apparently Obi-Wan did not look sufficiently 'nerdy' as the teenage worker, A. Tano had explained.

Obi-Wan was fairly certain nerd was supposed to be an insult. It certainly had when he was younger, but the girl had said it with pride and he'd seen the merchandise bearing the word. So perhaps he was just out of touch.

When he'd received Anakin's invitation, it had been a text that had been followed by 'only if you wanna', 'our DM really wants some new blood', 'we don't see each other much any', and 'IGNORE THAT IT WASN'T FOR YOU'. Obi-Wan had spotted the obvious lie and felt instantly guilty. They had been spending less time together with Obi-Wan's new book and promotions for the movie and Anakin being at college and with his friends so often. It would be a good structured way to see each other each week. Anakin had tried to be nonchalant when he'd said yes, but Obi-Wan knew he'd been grinning and vowed to make sure it was a good game and threw himself into research.

A. Tano, who finally introduced herself as Ahsoka, had been happy to help and had turned out to be a player herself, explaining classes and races and lore to him as they looked through dice and The Player's Handbook. She'd offered to just send him her PDF's of the book, but he'd declined though it was sweet. He preferred physical books and enjoyed being able to tab and write in them. Although he did accept the many websites she directed him to that were quite helpful.

All in all with a few texts to Anakin, who sounded more and more wary of his specific game related questions, he felt quite confident in his character and emailed the DM, whose name Anakin had failed to supply, his typed up storyline and sheet for approval.

The man, presumably one of Anakin's classmates, and it was an odd thought to have a 20 something with some authority over him, had approved it and complimented his storyline with something along the lines of, 'It's always nice to have another story and roleplay player in the group. I was concerned Anakin had invited another Murder Hobo, but you will do nicely Kenobi.' Anakin had sent him a long line of 'lols' when he'd asked what a 'Murder Hobo' was and promptly forgot to explain it as he instead asked for romantic advice. 'For a friend.' After she'd finished laughing, Ahsoka had, yet again, proved much more helpful in explaining and managed to get Obi-Wan to buy another set of dice, a lovely blue shade that glimmered and had gold numbers. He had yet to play and he was becoming quite fond of collecting the different colored sets. His first one had been 'Lawful Good' at Ahsoka's insistence.

All in all he felt confident as he drove to the address Anakin had texted him and the DM, who never signed his emails, had confirmed. He'd been expecting some first time apartment or perhaps, at worst, a dorm. Instead his GPS led him further and further into the countryside outside the city Anakin went to school, until he was turning down a gravel driveway. The road was covered in trees on both sides that bent over it, cutting off the sky as the outstretched branches blended together and pretty soon he was going up a small hill, into the large forest he had spotted from the freeway. Obi-Wan was somewhat nervous, but his GPS assured him this was correct and then he was pulling into a large lawn spotted with cars and staring at a beautiful sprawling cabin style home with a full wrap around porch, garden out of a fairytale and picturesque pond with a small pier.

That was not a college student's home, but he could clearly see Anakin on the porch talking enthusiastically to an older looking young woman with a besotted look Obi-Wan recognized. Perhaps it was one of Anakin's friends' parent's home? Obi-Wan realized he was suddenly nervous at the realization that besides Anakin, his neighbor, and his agent he hadn't really socialized with anyone since they'd moved here two years ago. That was a bit embarrassing.

Before he could consider it too long he parked beside one of the other vehicles and saw Anakin look up and grin like the sun at the sight of him. It made Obi-Wan relax. He would be fine. For goodness sakes he was a friendly grown man he could socialize fine. He'd even been called charming on more than one occasion.

It would be fine.

Obi-Wan hurriedly collected his binder and then grabbed the cloth bag containing the snacks. Ahsoka had insisted that snacks were a must for any game and helped him select a collection beyond Anakin's favourites. Obi-Wan got out and just managed to brace himself in time for Anakin to launch himself at Obi-Wan and wrap him in a tight hug. Obi-Wan stifled a laugh into his brother's shoulder and returned it one armed only protesting when Anakin tried to pick him up. The boy, young man now, laughed at his protest but dropped him. He looked up into familiar blue eyes on a tanned face framed by a mess of long curls and felt something inside him soften.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, full of affection and then to distract from it reached out to gently tug the curls. "It's gotten even longer."

Anakin rolled his eyes pulling away, grumbling but still grinning.

"Qui-Gon's was longer," Anakin pointed out, the same argument he'd used when he said he wanted to start growing it out. "And it's nothing compared to your mullet."

"It was not a mullet," Obi-Wan protested by rote and was surprised when there was a soft feminine laugh from behind Anakin.

Obi-Wan looked over Anakin's shoulder to find a lovely young woman a few years older than his brother. Her brown hair was done up in a lovely curling style and she smiled brightly. She wore an odd dress that was deep blue dress frames with black lace with odd white square patterned corset that resembled windows on the waist. There were swirling shapes in the blue and he could see up close that the top of black bodice said "Police Box" in white lettering.

"Oh, hello there," Obi-Wan said, slightly surprised. Anakin looked askance at the greeting which made Obi-Wan want to roll his eyes. Instead though he smiled and side stepped his brother to offer the woman his hand, shifting the handle of the snack bag to his wrist. Anakin had the absurd idea that Obi-Wan was an unconscious flirt, which was ridiculous. He may have bantered with others on occasion, but it was all very lighthearted and he hadn't pursued a flirtation in years. As it was he was suspecting he had become too much of an odd hermit to be all that appealing despite Anakin's insistence of 'seductions'.

He was even convinced that Obi-Wan's neighbor had some kind of crush on him rather than a strangely intense hatred and disapproval.

'Hello there' was not his 'signature move' despite what Anakin liked to claim.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said, ignoring Anakin's betrayed look as the woman shook his. Her hands were small but strong.

"Padmé Naberrie," the woman returned with a dimpled smile of her own.

"Queen Amidala?" Obi-Wan asked, startled and Padmé looked just as surprised but then beamed laughing.

"You follow my blog?" She sounded torn between flattered and embarrassed.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Your analysis is very thoughtful and it's been helpful for developing my more political character's thought processes as well as provoking me to consider my own--How did you put it, 'civic duty and impact on my government and holding them accountable'?"

"Oh," Padmé said with a smile and her face sharpened with interest. "Anakin mentioned you were a writer. You're focusing on something political?"

"A bit of alternate history fun," Obi-Wan admitted lightly. He was very much not thinking on the stacks and stacks of posted notes covering his desks, hours of recorded footage from documentaries, and books that were more sticky notes and highlighting than text. He was ignoring the hours and hours of time thrown into research spirals.

"What are you changing?" Padmé asked, eyes bright and interested.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a loud clap beside them. They both turned to find Anakin standing there hands together looking embarrassed and vaguely panicked. Obi-Wan stared, confused as his brother went pink and started speaking, rushed and stumbling.

"Alright. Don't wanna be late for game!" Anakin choked up and ducked between them grabbing Obi-Wan's arm. "COME ON OBI-WAN YOU CAN SIT BESIDE ME."

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be dragged, stunned by this but Padmé laughed lightly behind them. He noted the color on Anakin's face deepened at the sound and he felt something inside him soften. He had not imagined the besotted look then and he had most likely found the one behind the advice for Anakin's 'friend'.

Obi-Wan hid a small smile as he followed Anakin inside. It was loud, though the noise seemed to be coming from down the stairs to the immediate right. The first thing Obi-Wan saw was a very comfortable living room with some weapons hung on the wall, one wall reserved for what appeared to be an album's worth of family photos, a large TV, and several glass cases that seemed to contain figurines and models. Children's toys were scattered haphazardly throughout and this along with the colorful quilts, the homework and crayons spread out on the coffee table, and baby pen folded in the corner seemed to soften the room.

Obi-Wan's smile stayed firm until he looked at the man in the middle of the room who was collecting the scattered toys to place in a box. Clearly older, closer to Obi-Wan's age and likely the parent of Anakin's friend. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to greet him only for the man to look up and for Obi-Wan to come face to face with familiar brown eyes.

His words died.

The man looked just as stunned--even more handsome than when Obi-Wan had last seen him, part of him pointed out--half bent over, one hand wrapped around a stuffed dragon and the other stabilizing the toy box he was carrying. He was slightly rumbled in soft worn-in sweatpants that clung to his thighs and a white tank top that fully displayed his arms. The outfit was finished by a lopsided crown of dandelions and wildflowers, resting on his head. He looked so much softer, older of course with wrinkles around his eyes and a few small scars, but there were smile lines and he looked so much more in his element in a way that made Obi-Wan's heart squeeze and a worry he'd carried for two decades unfurled.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin's voice knocked them both out of the staring. Obi-Wan jumped and turned to Anakin to find him frowning and then flickering a quick look to the man. "Do-do you know Jango?"

He sounded so baffled by the concept.

Obi-Wan honestly wasn't sure how to answer or how much was his to share.

"We're old friends," Jango said smoothly stepping forward to offer his hand and a smile as he met Obi-Wan's gaze.

Obi-Wan took it, feeling the warmth and calluses of his palms without quite believing this surreal moment was happening.

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed, voice thankfully not showing the strange mess of his thoughts. His eyes were focused on Jango's taking in the color he'd used to know so well. "Very old ones."

The warmth lingered as the broke apart and Obi-Wan felt strangely bereft at that and curled his palm closed as if to keep the memory of the sensation from fading.

"Time for game," Jango said, firmly and Anakin looked ready to protest, but a soft touch on his shoulder had him following Padmé down the stairs leaving Obi-Wan alone with one last suspicious glance.

Alone with Jango. Who he hadn't seen since he was sixteen and completely besotted.

#d&d au #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padmé naberrie #padmé amidala #jango fett #jango x obi wan #my writing #prompt fill #star wars prompt #star wars #fanfic #ahsoka tano #long post

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cultureisdarkbeer · 4 years

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We Will Remember; From Out of the Ashes

From my Rooted in Friendship series, this is Mulder on 9/11/2001

It was September. Mulder had spent the summer wandering aimlessly. Using the identities The Lone Gunman had given him he roamed from one menial job to the other in one town to the next. Every day was spent looking over his shoulder and every night dreaming of Scully and William. Hesitant to make contact, he hadn’t even checked his email for fear of a trace. It didn’t even matter. There was nothing for him to say that wasn’t already said. He wanted to come home. To be with them again. The only positive, if there was any, was that he was meeting different people from all kinds of backgrounds and philosophies. There were more people out there that believed than he had realized. Some circles had even mentioned him by name as a crusader. If they only knew. If he was on a crusade it was to return to his family. The only way to do that would be to discover what destroyed human replacements and stop them before it was too late.

Mulder opened one eye and squinted at the time. He thought it read 10:37. He was thinking that it must be A.M. as there was sunlight shining into the window. Sometimes it was an arduous task to simply discern one day to the next. Today was Tuesday. He knew this since his last day at the mill had been yesterday and the guys had gathered at the local bar for a going away bash. The last thing he remembered was being dropped onto the couch by Randy after having too many drinks to maintain the ability to walk let alone drive a car. His head was still buzzing, but he did recall crying into a beer or two over Scully. He slowly rolled into a sitting position on the most recent couch he called home. Rubbing his neck, the stiffness reminded him that he needed to buy a pillow. Thinking of stiffness, he stared down at ol’ reliable standing at his usual attention. Not that he had much use for it. The times he did partake he usually ended up in a worse depression than before and he wasn’t in the mood for tears today. He rubbed his face and the scruff that had formed cut into his calloused hands. Blindly, he turned on the small picture tube in the room and went to the bathroom to empty his bladder. When he returned he had a toothbrush hanging from his mouth and disbelief in his eyes. The news showed smoke rising from where the World Trade Center once stood. There had been an attack on the Pentagon as well and in Pennsylvania. The next couple hours he spent glued to the television absorbing everything in front of him. His first instinct was to contact Scully, but he knew he couldn’t. The FBI had to be heavily involved at this point. Thoughts of human replacement involvement crossed his mind although most evil didn’t land from the sky, but that from within. It was then he decided his next destination would be east to NYC. If nothing else, they could use his help.

As he got dressed he accidentally glanced at himself in the mirror. He usually avoided mirrors as they reflected his heartache. Today he looked at himself as if from afar. It was the first time in a while he felt he might have a purpose again. Tanned from working in the sun, his skin glowed golden and his abs had a harder cut to them than usual. The muscles in his arms and chest were wider. Scully would be impressed he thought as he ran his hand over his chest. The pain of her absence began to culminate in his heart and he quickly resumed getting dressed frantically trying to push his mind onto another track. Any thoughts of Scully resulted with tears, anger and unending sadness. He walked outside and flung his bags into the back of an old Buick sedan he had purchased for a couple hundred dollars. The plates and registration were phonies Skinner had retrieved from FBI storage, but they got him wheels. He sat the picture Scully had given him in the corner of the instrument panel wishing he had one of William as well. Straightening his rear view mirror he gave the rural landscape one last look, put on his shades, and headed out.

A few days had passed before he had reached New York traveling from Kansas. He had stopped to visit Sheila and Holman. At least there he got to share good memories, eat some home cooking, and be the proud papa as he told them about William. He had given Holman a package to mail to Scully so she knew he was still alive and took off for New York.

As he entered NJ, he took heed of the solemn atmosphere. There was an eerie quiet looming. When he finally pulled the car into a parking spot he was near Liberty State Park. The air was cold, a frigid day with no wind, the only breeze being from the echoing of voices from the dead and the screaming hearts of the living. He came upon a spot with candles burning. Pictures and cards hung everywhere. There were notebooks too. He picked them up and read them. Poems and prayers, wishes and requests, all to missing loved ones. They were beautiful and he felt his anger rise up with the sadness. The monster inside him was winning. He spun around when he felt a tap on his arm. It was a woman with tears in her eyes. She hugged him without words. A total stranger holding him, greeting him like family. They cried in each other’s arms for each of their losses without sharing words. Others came to pray, share hugs and photos, and leave messages. Everyone was leaning on the other. Mulder had witnessed many things in his life, but such a beautiful reflection of humanity he never would have guessed to find in the vicinity of so much that was corrupt.

“Hi. My name is Lauren.” A tall slender woman dressed in what might be considered hippy attire held out her hand for Mulder to shake. “Do you have missing loved ones?”

“No… I, uh. I came to help.”

“Yes. It seems there are people from all over the country some from other parts of the world that have traveled to help. I’m from Long Island myself. There’s a group of us meeting here in a while to make the trek over into the city. From there we will meet up with the firefighters.”

“What will we be doing?”

“You’ll see.” She replied with a warm smile.

For lack of any ideas, Mulder wandered into the city with them. The streets were covered in ash. What looked like snow was more ash falling from the sky. A post-apocalyptic feel gripped at his fears. This was not cruelty from an alien force, but only that capable of man. They walked the streets. Lit candles covered every street corner accompanied by flowers, cards, letters, and poems. The walls of every business and billboard filled with pictures of loved ones.

Children, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, friends, wandered the streets searching. Some came as he did. From a pull that they did not know. From a pull to be together, for comfort from the sadness. To mourn the loss, embrace each other. When they finally settled on a street corner they waited. The firefighters were changing shifts. The truck stopped at the corner and the firemen got out as others piled in. They carried with them shovels and masks. The news stated it was an attempt at a recovery mission, but Mulder knew better. It was to dig up the dead. To find evidence of who had died, to attempt proper funerals. Most would remain where they died, their tombstone a memorial and another skyscraper to once again reach out to the heavens on the backs of their souls. The returning firefighters had it all in their faces. The people cheered them like superheroes upon their return. Those people were there for one purpose. To hug those men, to give them their strength back through their love. Total strangers giving the only thing they had to give to the men that had lost so many of their brothers. The firefighters in turn cried into the embrace. Falling apart in their arms. Real giants did exist and they walked the streets that day. It was the men in red and those in blue that ran towards their impending doom as others ran away. To now be represented by those from all over sifting through the ashes, not giving up on a chance of resurrection. If there was a place Mulder felt at home since leaving D.C. it was there among the mourning. They gave him strength to go on. To know that he was blessed to have Scully and William still alive waiting.

After sharing handshakes, more prayers and kind words, he left as soft music played bouncing off the resilience of the tall standing buildings of downtown. The Empire State Building glowed red, white, and blue for all to see that we still stood tall. People had brought their instruments, boom boxes and whatever they had, playing the music throughout the night to let everyone know they were not alone. The spotlights boomed into the sky like a signal to batman calling for a savior when the only one to answer was from inside. Mulder continued to wander the streets, like he was searching, but for what he had yet to know. He got to a large rock near central park and sat down. His heart started to race as butterflies beat furiously in his stomach. “Scully.” He said to himself out loud.

“Mulder” Scully said as butterflies grew in her stomach at that familiar feeling.

“What is it Dana?” Monica asked concerned at the upset look on her face.

“Nothing. I… I just got a strange feeling like Mulder was here.”

“Maybe he was.”

“Maybe. I miss him Monica. Not a second goes by….”

“You have to stay positive.”

“I know.”

Scully and Monica were two blocks from Mulder’s rock in Central Park. They had come to see the tragedy with their own eyes and unknowingly came within steps of Mulder. Monica waved down a cab and got in. Scully paused for a second longer, the butterflies still beating in her stomach. “I know you’re out there Mulder. I hope you feel me too.” She whispered more to herself than anything else. She joined Monica in the cab and they headed to the airport to return to D.C.

Mulder got up from the rock looking for the subway to take him back to his motel room. A kid in his twenties in a gray hoodie came up behind Mulder and tapped him on the shoulder startling him.

“Excuse me. You’re Fox Mulder!”

“What? No, I’m sorry you have the wrong person.” Mulder picked up his pace taking longer strides to get away from the attention this guy was bestowing upon him. The kid only ran to keep up.

“No, I know you’re him. You were friends with Max from NICAP. I’m from NICAP too.” The kid said extending his hand to Mulder as they walked. Mulder kept his hand in his pockets and didn’t slow his pace.

“Look I’m kind of undercover. I’m not really able to talk right now it could compromise my position.”

The kid nodded, but didn’t back away. “My name is Josh. We’re having a meeting tomorrow if you’re interested. The topic… alien hybrid kryptonite.”

This stopped Mulder in his tracks. “You’ve figured out how to stop them?”

Josh looked hesitant. “Well that’s what the meeting is about. We have reports that some of the members have seen them turn into one of those magnetic desk sculptures. You know what I’m talking about?”

“Not exactly. They might have thought they killed them, but these things rejuvenate. I’ve seen them crushed into a tiny cube and come back to full capacity.” Mulder countered.

“According to our latest reports, this destroys them. If you come to the meeting, you can speak with these men yourself. Ask all the questions you want. It would be quite an honor to have you there. You’re kind of a celebrity in our neck of the woods.”

Josh handed him a small NICAP business card with an address and time. “See you then”

As Josh walked away, Mulder looked around nervously. If I guy from NICAP could locate him, anyone could. He wouldn’t be able to stay much longer.

After a restless night’s sleep in a rundown motel, Mulder went back over to ground zero and put in some hours helping with the recovery. At a little after 7 he headed over to 8th avenue where he found a building with windows nailed shut by wooden planks covered in Broadway posters. He went down a dark alley, down a flight of stairs to a locked door. He knocked on the door and a 400 lb. man with a Spiderman t-shirt answered. “It’s the second star to the right” He said to Mulder. “And straight on ‘til morning” Mulder answered.

“Please turn around and expose your neck.” The heavy set man answered. Mulder turned around and lowered his jacket so the man could observe the top of his spine. He then handed Mulder an alcohol swab and a disposable blood lancet. Mulder punctured his finger so the man could witness that his blood was red. Lastly he ran a wand over him for evidence of weapons, tracking devices, or taps. When he was satisfied that Mulder was clean he let him proceed. The man opened the door to let Mulder in. “It’s an honor to meet you Fox Mulder” the man winked and smiled. As Mulder looked around he realized he had found the greatest collection of outcasts the planet earth may have ever known. Once everyone was checked in, the meeting commenced. There was a lot of formalities, new business, old business until finally they got to eyewitness accounts. Each person would go up front and speak of their experience. It was nothing new and all things Mulder had heard several times before.

“And now the moment we’ve been waiting for.” Said the meeting head. “Eric will be reviewing his latest information on Hybrids.”

He started his speech telling of first accounts of hybrids being birthed from human mothers using mutated eggs. He told of stories of embryo implants through abductions and contaminated water supplies. Most of it Mulder was aware and some seemed skewed or misguided. Finally, he got to what Mulder really wanted to hear. “We have some exciting news today. It’s been confirmed. We have dead hybrids. They were turned into a metallic dust. It happened at ground zero. What we believe is that when the twin towers fell, they exposed the Manhattan bedrock which is millions of years old. Folded into that bedrock is an iron ore, remnants of an old meteor. We believe that if we could mine meteors that contain this same iron, we may be able to build a weapon to combat these hybrids.”

“So where do you find this iron and how are you going to test it?” Asked one of the members.

Eric turned on the projector. “This is a Map of all the meteor dustings in the past two million years. As you can see the largest concentration is in Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, and Nevada. This is where we should concentrate our efforts.”

“But how do you know this iron stuff will kill them?” Asked another member.

“Because we have it on video and we have the dust sample.”

The room became silent as he hooked up his video camera.

The video took place after the first tower fell. There was a considerable amount of smoke and it was apparent the video had been taken by someone in law enforcement. Two men with FBI jackets were running into the smoke and the camera was shaking widly. You could see them enter the building and go down steps where the mall once stood. Ash was everywhere and smoke filled the hallways. It appeared they were in search of something inside the mall. Then one of the FBI agents froze like he was magnetized to the floor. With tremendous force the two men crumbled as if from the inside out like a huge magnet drew them downward. You see the man holding the camera yell and pick up their clothing which now contained only dust. He let out a few expletives and the camera shut off.

Even this made Mulder miss Scully. He wished she was there to witness the tape. He wanted her opinion. He also wanted some of that dust. She would be able to dissect it in the lab and find the answer. Not this time. This time he would have to prove it on his own.

“What happened? It was like terminator was struck with a light saber.” Shouted Josh, the kid he had met in the street.

“We don’t know. This is all we have, but the rock that was scraped up from the site had a high concentration of a form of magnetite. If we could fashion a weapon, we may be able to use if against them.”

Walking back to the motel Mulder didn’t know what to make of any of it. Was there a way to stop them? There had to be. Nothing was invincible. Except maybe Scully. He went to put the key in the door and it creaked open with a push. Someone had already been there. The place had been ransacked, but from what he saw nothing was taken. His first instinct was to ensure the intruders had left, but they were gone. His suitcase full of cash was still intact. He searched his luggage finding a tracer. He also found a bug inside the lamp on the nightstand. They had located him. His time in NY had run out. He grabbed his stuff, packed it into the car, placed the picture back on the instrument panel, and headed west in search of magnetite and an old friend.