#with a backup it might still be possible to fix without needing to drop more money | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soulmate-game · 4 years ago

Text

Hawkmoth was a bitch, and Marinette meant that with every fiber of her soul. Fu was also a bitch, and Marinette actually had good memories of the guy. Not many, but she had some. The fact that the guy got two ten-year-olds to become super heroes and fight a supervillain for him kinda soured those memories, though. But with Chat Noir not allowed to leave his house? Yeah, even as young as they were it only took about a year to find out who HawkMoth was and another year to take him down.

Except, that left Marinette alone. The final battle took her mom away, and Chat had to move out of Paris after his dad was arrested. Luckily Jagged allowed her and her papa to move into his house in Gotham, and everything was…

Well, it was okay. For about a month.

Then her dad was gone too, and she had no way to talk to Jagged, and the police were scaring her—

Yeah, that was the basic order of events that led to where she was now. Pushing fourteen years old, ex-superhero, protector of a magical box of gods, stealing the tires off of a very nice motorcycle.

Marinette was tempted to just take the whole thing, she loved bikes and knew she could drive it. But the thing had more security than she knew what to do with, and the fact that it belonged to Red Hood… she didn’t want to deal with trackers today, thanks. So the tires it was.

Should she maybe care more about the fact that she was stealing from a vigilante with a violent streak? Maybe. Did she? Hell no. For all she knew, maybe Red Hood was a bitch too. (Yes, she was still learning English slang. She was fluent by educational standards, but learning how to curse in a foreign language was fun and she still had a little bit to go. Her few street friends were very happy to help).

A shadow dropped down in front of her, and Marinette’s hero instincts kicked in. The tire iron she was using cut through the air, slamming right into the side of Red Hood’s knee.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Hood,” Batman’s voice grumbled over the comms, instantly grabbing the attention of everyone else who was on the comms. It wasn’t as gruff as he usually sounded, in fact it almost sounded like… he was trying not to laugh?

“Did you get gassed by Joker?” Dick asked before Jason got a chance to respond. “Need backup?”

“No,” Batman responded, sounding a little more composed. “Not a rogue. But Hood, I need you to join me at my location as soon as possible.”

Finally getting the chance to talk, Jason responded a little warily; “Sure, B. Wait,” he blinked at the location that was sent to him. “Isn’t that where my bike is parked?”

Batman didn’t respond at first, only the sound of labored breathing— again, as if he was trying not to laugh. “Just get here, Hood.”

Sighing, but not too mad since the night had been fairly quiet so far, Jason decided to humor the old man and head over. When he could see the cape-clad back of Batman, he easily leapt over the last roof and sauntered over.

“Okay, B,” he had his thumbs tucked in his pockets as he drawled. “What’s the issue?”

Batman was grinning. As in, actually showing amusement. And he just pointed down, straight at Hood’s bike.

Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet, turning to look. At first he didn’t see anything amiss, until he saw movement and looked harder. Oh. Oh, holy shit.

“Is that a kid?”

“Yep,” Batman’s grin grew.

“Is she… stealing my tires?” Hood was so, so glad he wore a helmet that hid his expression. Because… wow.

“Yep,” Batman finally lost his composure, chuckling. “This seems like Karma, don’t you think?”

“And you just watched her so you could rub it in,” Jason groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. Of course he would. Nobody knew it (except the other heroes who knew him) but Batman was a petty little jerk when he wanted to be. He bought the whole Daily Planet just to spite Clark, for crying out loud.

“Don’t adopt her,” Batman said as he stood up, patting Red Hood’s shoulder. “It looks like she’s almost done.”

“Shit,” Jason hissed, looking down to see that she was, actually, very close to being done. She had already had one tire completely free by the time he had arrived, and now she was only seconds away from getting the other one completely free.

He took a quick assessment— she was tiny, and really thin. Definitely a street kid, he thought, though he didn’t recognize her. He knew most of the street kids that stole to get by, nowadays, which meant she must have been fairly new. But even though she seemed to know what she was doing, her small frame made her take longer unscrewing the tires than it normally would have taken. Sure that she wasn’t a threat by any stretch of the imagination, he jumped down. His plan had been to startle her a little by showing up out of nowhere, but he didn’t want to scare her too badly. Just make her jump a little.

But he had underestimated her, it seemed. Without wasting a second, she jumped up and swung her tire iron at his knee. He cursed, she was a lot faster than her had been expecting. He was able to move so that the weapon only clipped the side of his knee, his knee pad thankfully taking the worst of it. She still hit hard enough to make him stumble and hiss in pain though, which was an accomplishment.

That’s when she abandoned her weapon and her tires, darting to try and escape only for Batman to drop down and block her escape. Though really, it was the grin Batman had that scared the girl most of all, apparently, making her slowly back away from him.

“Please stop smiling,” she begged with a faint French accent to her words. “It is not natural.”

That made Red Hood laugh, already recovered and right behind her. He plopped a gloved hand on her head.

“I know, it’s creepy right?” He joked. “What’cha doin’ stealing my tires, kid? I kinda need them to drive anywhere,” he was careful to keep his voice light and devoid of any anger. He wasn’t really upset, all told. It would be hypocritical of him if he was.

She looked between the two vigilantes for a moment, clear intelligence behind those bright blue eyes as she seemed to consider something. Suddenly she pulled away from Red Hood and stepped away from his reach, straightening up and trying to look tall.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said as firmly as she could. “My father was Tom Dupain, he was killed in a mugging three months ago. We were living in a house that our family friend leant to us after my mother’s death six months ago, and we moved here from Paris. I haven’t been able to contact him, and the police… I don’t trust them,” she admitted, clearly seeing this as the chance she had been waiting for. “I have been living on the streets since my father died. I am sorry for trying to steal your tires, Monsieur Red Hood. But it was a risk I had to take.”

“Did you expect us to catch you?” He asked, crossing his arms as he re-evaluated the girl. She was a lot stronger than he had assumed earlier, both physically and mentally. She seesawed her hand to indicate ‘kinda’.

“Even if you didn’t, I could make good money off your tires,” she justified with a shrug. “To me, I would win either way.”

“Who is your family friend? Can he help you now, take you in?” Batman asked, moving forward and kneeling down to be closer to Marinette’s height. Neither he nor Jason had missed the part where she was an orphan, but they had expected that considering what they had caught her doing. And they both knew that she wasn’t likely to take any apologies they tried to offer very well. It was best not to show pity, or she might get angry.

Marinette frowned. “... Our family friend is Jagged Stone. He lets me call him Uncle Jagged,” she told them, clearly expecting the disbelieving grunts they gave. “I mean it! You can call him, he might even be looking for me! I—“

“We know,” Hood assured her, now kneeling down as well. Man, she was short. “Calm down, we know you’re telling the truth. Jagged has made several public announcements about his missing honorary niece, we just didn’t recognize your name right away. And Jagged doesn’t have access to very many pictures of you, those he does have the Mayor isn’t allowing him to show because that spineless jackass—“

“Language, Hood.”

“—Cares more about keeping bad press off the air than finding a kid, even if it’s a world famous rockstar who’s asking. That’s probably why you haven’t heard anything, the mayor’s keeping it off the radio and not many reporters are brave enough to take the story and get on his bad side.”

“Oh…” Marinette took a deep breath, fighting the tears that were threatening to rise up. “He has been looking…” she sniffled, curling in on herself a little. “Can you take me to him?”

“I think we can do that,” Batman agreed, standing up. “I’ll contact him. Red Hood, can you handle everything here until I give you a place to meet up with Jagged Stone?”

Jason nodded. “No problem, B. Come on, little rabid pixie. Step one of gettin’ you back to your uncle is to help me fix my bike back up.”

Marinette sighed, shoulders dropping. “All my hard work, undone…” she playfully complained. But in the end she didn’t argue or fight against it, she just sat down and helped him reattach his tires.

All the while, Jason’s family kept teasing him over the comms. Clearly they were also thoroughly amused by the cosmic display of karma.

“...Monsieur Hood,” Marinette asked once they were done repairing the motorcycle and he had given her his too-big extra helmet. He tilted his head a bit to show he was listening. She squirmed. “Can… can we stop by my hideout? I have something really important I have to get.”

Jason smiles gently under his mask. She might not have been a street kid for very long, but she really did bring back some memories for him. He got on his bike and held a hand out to her.

“Sure thing kid. Wanna grab something to eat after? Can’t have a reunion on an empty stomach.”

She gave him a lopsided smile— not quite overjoyed, but definitely hopeful and thankful. Maybe this was the end of her streak of bad luck, she could only hope.

“Only if you don’t mind, Monsieur Hood,” she agreed before taking his hand and letting him help her onto the bike.

“No skin off my back, pixie,” he assured her. Then they were off. He followed her directions until they got to an abandoned building about three miles away, not in a good part of town at all but at least not in crime alley. Marinette easily led him through the building, skirting around other piles of ratty blankets and up broken stairs until they got to the badly-maintained top floor. She led him over to an almost invisible door in the concrete wall that pulled out to reveal what was probably a broom closet once upon a time. It was crowded with what looked like junk and empty boxes, along with a few blankets and two or three changes of clothes that were clearly her’s. A few belongings scattered around— a book, a small pink purse, and… Marinette came out of the pile of mess holding what had clearly been a very carefully hidden box. She also grabbed the purse and slung it over her shoulder, but didn’t seem worried about anything else.

Jason frowned at the box. It wasn’t that big, but it was clearly made of old wood. There were intricate carvings that were painted pink, in a symbol that was itching at the back of his mind. He recognized that symbol, but from where?

“Ready to go, kid?” He asked as he thought about it, getting a nod from Marinette. Twenty minutes later they were at a Batburger, sitting in a shaded booth that couldn’t be seen from the street.

She never let the box out of her sight. She kept it on the seat next to her, and Jason noticed that she tried to keep one hand on it at all times. But when she spoke, now her French accent stood out to him even more than before. But why—?

And then it clicked. Paris. Hawkmoth. Ladybug, Chat Noir, magic artifacts called Miraculous. Wonder Woman had raised a fuss when the heroes disappeared, declaring that something was wrong but she couldn’t put her finger on what. Then the magic users they trusted were called in, and returned from Paris with the grim news that the former Guardian of those artifacts had activated a failsafe and passed the guardianship on to someone else while erasing his own memories at the same time. But nobody knew who he could have passed it on to, so Batman had been given the green light to do all the research he and his team could into the Miraculous box to try and help track it down.

And here it was. The carvings were in pink now, which might have been the “cosmetic change” that Constantine had mentioned might happen when the box changed guardians. He had found the box full of super powerful magical artifacts… in the hands of a newly orphaned street kid who couldn’t have been older than fourteen at best.

What the hell?

“...” Red hood reached into his pocket and pulled out an old receipt and a sharpie. He scrawled on the back of the receipt and handed to Marinette. The girl was halfway into a bite of her burger when he did, and blinked at him owlishly before swallowing and cautiously reaching out to grab it. She frowned at the numbers scrawled there.

“What’s this?” She asked.

“My contact info,” he explained. “I won’t ask questions about why you have that box,” he watched her instantly stiffen but continued as casually as he could; “but it doesn’t matter. You can call me if you ever need help with anything, kid. Help with that box, help if you get in trouble in Gotham again, or even if you’re having a bad day. You can call me for whatever, got it? I don’t care if you think it’s stupid, if you can’t talk to anyone else in your life you can always call or text me and I’ll do whatever I can. Got it?”

“...” Marinette sniffled for a second and looked down at the table in silence for a second. “... what if I want your motorcycle?” she joked, but the watery tone of her voice gave her away.

Jason laughed, patting her head. “I need my bike, but we can talk about getting you your own once you are old enough to get a license. You almost done? Bats says that Jagged is ready to meet you, I can take you to him right now.”

“Yeah, lets go!” she was newly energized and shoved the last bite of burger into her mouth greedily. “And Red Hood?” She asked as they headed out to where he had parked.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Permanent tag list (I remembered it this time!)

@rosalineandrosemary @neakco @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @trippingovermyfeet @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @bigpicklebananatree @fantasylover-92 @prongs-flowers @jumpingjoy82 @prettylittlebutterflie @queenz-z @literaryhiraeth @waffelyunsure @deathssilentapproach-blog @waiting247 @theirlmikan @unoriginalmess

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #soulmate-game #platonic jasonette

1K notes · View notes

marvelouspeterparker · 5 years ago

Text

mine

pairing: mob!tom holland x reader

requests: wearing Mob!toms stuff? like maybe his suit jacket but without something under it, to a meeting? + mob!tom goes feral after an enemy flirted with his girl? both by anonymous

warnings: violence and smut

notes: hope you don’t mind that i combined two requests! also check out @geminiparkers mob!tom playlist which coincidentally has this same gif on the page haha + this might as well be dedicated to @duskholland as it is mob monday and she is the queen of mob!tom :)

It wasn’t unusual for you to sit in Tom’s meetings. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. He liked having you as involved as possible, he trusted you with all his heart and he didn’t want to keep you in the dark. He even got you a “throne”, as he called it, to match his in his meeting room. They were two large chairs with intricate and expensive designs on the back rests. As soon as anyone walked into the room, it was clear who was in charge.

Although you had your own seat, you rarely used it. You appreciated it, of course, and when you sat on it you felt powerful, Tom’s hand over yours, his thumb rubbing your skin softly as he barked orders at his men, intimidating every person in the room. You felt like a queen sitting proudly beside her king.

But, as much as you adored your throne, you and Tom both preferred when you sat in your rightful place, in his lap. He liked to wrap his arms around you and hold you sometimes to destress when his men were acting like fools and everything seemed to be going wrong.

Sometimes he would even distract himself, slipping his hands under your clothes, one holding you down as the other made a mess between your thighs. He didn’t care if anyone heard you, and you didn’t either––it was hard to worry about anything else when he had his hands on you.

The men knew not to look at you, only making eye contact with Tom as he spoke, as if nothing were happening. If they did look, they’d be punished. Simple as that. And no one wanted that.

You had just finished eating a snack when you made your way over to the meeting room. You knew that Tom would need your company today, his meeting was with Lorenzo, one of the worst in the business. His actual business was good, and it would be very beneficial to join forces with him, but he was a nightmare. Which is why Tom considered him to be one of his enemies.

The meeting had started a little while ago, but there hadn’t seemed to be any shouting, so you assumed it was going well. You slipped in quietly and noticed Tom perk up when he saw you, but then his eyes trailed over your body and he licked his lips, partially tuning everyone out as he focused on you. You were wearing one of his shirts with a belt tied around your waist, accentuating your figure.

He spread his legs and sat back, waiting for you as you walked along the long table, saying hi to Harrison as you walked by him. You bit your lip and smiled as you reached Tom, his hands immediately pulling you in by your waist. You bent down and gave him a kiss and he smacked your ass before grabbing it possessively, making you squeak and giggle softly.

You sat down on his lap, your body turned into him, your arm hanging loosely around his neck, legs over the chair as you faced the front. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, one arm wrapped around your side, the other on your thigh. “You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?” He bit your earlobe and you could tell he wanted to take you right then and there.

You bit your lip as you looked down at him and that was all the answer you needed. “Christ, you’re trying to kill me.”

You both turned your attention back to the front and you tried not to make a face when you noticed Lorenzo staring at you shamelessly. You took a sharp inhale, knowing this wouldn’t be good––for him. You saw that none of his men were with him, he was so arrogant he often left without backup, stupid, really.

“Y/N,” Lorenzo spoke up, smiling menacingly at you and you felt Tom’s hold tighten. “How are you, beautiful?”

You tried your best not to roll your eyes but your voice was monotone when you responded. “Fine, thanks.”

You could practically hear Tom’s blood boiling as he growled out his next words. “If we could focus on the task at hand, please.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek and felt a little at ease when you noticed his demeanor lighten up a bit. He squeezed your thigh appreciatively.

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, annoyingly confident. “Well I’m just saying hello to the pretty girl in your lap.” He licked his teeth, suddenly perking up and you knew this couldn’t possibly be a good thing. “Tell you what. I’ll agree to the terms.”

“Great––”

“If,” he interrupted, “I get one night with the beautiful lady.”

You tensed, your eyes widening and just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, he went on. “All I need is one night for you to realize how much better I am than him, sweetheart.” He winked, “Promise I’ll have you screaming my name.”

Tom made a gesture so fast you barely even saw it, but before you knew it, two of his men grabbed Lorenzo and brought him over to the other end of the table.

Tom tapped your waist and kissed your cheek and you got the message and slid off his lap. You sat in your chair, your legs curled under you, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Lorenzo still had an obnoxious smile on his face and Tom wanted nothing more than to punch it off. So he did. His arm swung forward with no warning, knocking the man’s head back momentarily as Tom’s henchmen held him up. He groaned, wincing as blood coated his teeth, his skin already red. There was no doubt his nose was broken, Tom trained almost every day and he knew how to use his hands, in more ways than one. His fists kept pounding into the man, beating him to a pulp. No one disrespected you and got away with it. By the time he was done, the man could barely stand on his own.

Tom lifted his head roughly, gripping his hair. “You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her.” He looked at him, pure loathing in his face as he fixed his suit nonchalantly. “Darling?” He held his hand out for you, his eyes softening immediately as they found you.

You took his hand eagerly and stood next to him. He looked over to the man groaning in pain, his gaze hardening again as he held his head up. “Apologize.”

When he said nothing, Tom raised his fist again and Lorenzo screamed in protest. “Okay okay! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

Tom dropped his head and stood back, watching him indifferently as he weakly rolled his neck back to lift his head on his own.“Do you accept his apology, love?” His tone was sweet when he talked to you and the shocking contrast in how he treated you turned you on more than it should have.

You let go of his hand and stepped forward. You slapped Lorenzo with all the force you had, your hand stinging from the pain, as he grunted, but you sucked it up. “Fuck no.” You stepped back and found yourself in Tom’s embrace.

Harrison handed Tom a handkerchief to wipe his knuckles and he looked at the two men holding Lorenzo up, “Deal’s off. Take him out of here.” He flicked his wrist towards the door and everyone rushed out, the man’s screams and curses becoming muffled as he was shoved out.

Before the door even shut, Tom threw the handkerchief aside and kissed you, pouring all his frustrations, love and want into it. You sighed and brought your hands up to his hair, loving the way he groaned and pressed himself into you when you pulled at his curls lovingly.

He brought his hands to your waist and pulled off the belt and ripped the buttons open as you sat on the table. “Look at you,” he cooed.You felt your skin heat up under his gaze as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, kneeling down in front of you. When he looked between your legs, he gasped quietly, “Naughty girl, you’re practically dripping.” He looked up at you as he started mouthing at your thigh. “Seeing me defend your honor got you that hot and bothered?”

You nodded unabashedly. “Love seeing you get violent,” you muttered quietly, “It’s my guilty pleasure.” Your hand found it’s way back into his curls, the other holding you up on the table.

He grinned, “Then I guess we’re a perfect match, huh?” He licked into your wet cunt, savoring your taste on his tongue, and you sighed.

“Oh fuck, Tommy.”

“That’s it,” he licked all over your pussy, spreading your wetness and making an even bigger mess as he spit on your clit before sucking it into his mouth, his hands holding your thighs tightly around his head. “Want you to cum all over me. Want you to scream my name, let everyone know you’re mine.”

He buried your face between your legs, moaning as you used him to get off, clearly enjoying himself. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, letting you squeeze your thighs and grind against him, whines and expletives flying from your mouth freely. It wasn’t long before your head dropped back, a long and breathy “Shit––” falling past your lips as you tensed for a few moments before your body went slack, sinking into the table.

Tom stood up and grabbed you before you could lie back though, pulling a small whine from you. He got rid of his belt and unbuttoned his pants before pulling his cock out. He was hard, leaking, his tip a prominent red. Seeing you in his clothes, then seeing you slap the shit out of Lorenzo really did something to him.

He grinned, his lips still shining from your release, and pulled you back into his lap. With shaky legs, you climbed up and slung one leg over him, grabbing his cock and sliding him in slowly. “Oh god––” you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned your forehead against his.

His hands slid up your legs all the way to your waist before one hand slid up to the side of your face. He tilted his head up and pressed his lips against your parted ones, practically inviting him to capture them in his own. “Look at me baby, can you do that? Wanna see your pretty eyes while I fuck you.”

You whimpered and clenched around him making him buck into you and hiss. You opened your eyes slowly, the dazed look in them making him twitch inside of you. You turned your head and kissed his palm before leaning in and kissing him again, practically melting into him, your mouths merging together, your bodies pressed as close as possible as he guided your movements with one hand.

You were grinding into him, too focused on the pleasure to think about the cold room and the fact that you were fully naked and he was still clothed. But you knew if you did think about it, it would only turn you on even more.

His hand on your waist slid down and grabbed your ass, smacking it occasionally as the other held the back of your neck and pulled you into him. The kiss was messy and wet and filled with tongue and passion, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way––you just wanted him.

You pulled away reluctantly to take a breath, panting as you watched each other hungrily. You started bouncing up and down on his cock and both his hands grabbed your ass, slamming you down onto him. “That’s it, princess. Just like that. You know how to take my cock, don’t you?”

Even though the question was rhetorical, only meant to rile you up, you nodded, bouncing faster with purpose, your eyes glued to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as you moved yourself up and down.

He grabbed you, taking charge and thrusting his hips into you with force and speed, your high the only thing on his mind, his not far in tow.

“Want you to give it to me, darling. Can you do that for me?”

You cursed in response, your eyes shutting as you stopped your movements, leaving Tom to hold you up and buck his hips into you, desperately chasing his own release. You whimpered, your body still sensitive as you stared at him, your jaw dropped open. “Cum for me baby. Please. Wanna––feel you.”

His gaze darkened and he came not long after, a loud groan escaping him as his thrusts slowed down and eventually stopped. He pulled you down onto his cock, letting you rest on him and you whined, your whole body feeling like a live-wire.

He ran his hands up and down your back, before sliding down to grab your ass. You arched into his touch and leaned into his chest, purring softly and kissing his neck. When he spoke up you trailed your kiss up to his cheek before pulling back to look at him, your hands on his chest.

“Next time anyone tries anything like that I’m fucking you in front of them, I don’t care who it is. Then I’m beating them to a bloody pulp.” His grip tightened, “It’ll be the last thing they ever see.”

Oh there was definitely something wrong with you, because hearing his threat only made you clench around him. But maybe you really were the perfect match for each other, as he said, because as soon as he felt your reaction, he smiled up at you and you knew from the look in his eyes that you wouldn’t be leaving this room any time soon.

#queue tell em #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland request #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom holland imagine #mob!tom holland fic #tom holland oneshot #mob!tom holland oneshot #mob!tom holland smut #tom holland smut

1K notes · View notes

spotofimagines · 4 years ago

Text

No Longer A Secret ~ Isaiah Jesus

A/N: A year later, here’s part 3. I think I’ll make this the last part because it took a lot out of me tbh. I hope you enjoy it!

Requested by: a bunch of you a while ago (sorry for the wait!) [ tagging: @anyasthoughts ]

Warnings: pregnancy, family fighting

Summary: Isaiah held up his end of the bargain, now you’ve got to do your part and finally tell your family your secret.

Part 1(Keeping A Secret) - Part 2(Unveiling A Secret)

gif by @pvkyblinders

More had changed for you in the past few weeks than you thought possible. Being a Shelby meant you were used to drastic change pretty often, but you, along with Finn, were usually the last of your siblings to know what was going on, being kept in the dark for as long as possible.

Being on the other side of the fence this time and having to tell your family this information was filling you with a lot of dread, especially when it came to Arthur. He was volatile with regular news at times, so how bad was he going to be when he heard that the little sister he protects with his life is not only pregnant and engaged but that you stole money so you could hide it from him?

Walking into the Shelby household had never felt so tense. The hallway so small. The dark walls so imposing. Isaiah's gentle touch on your waist made you jump a little bit as you were so trapped in your fear. "You alright, babe?" He uttered in your ear, truthfully knowing the answer would be no but needing some reassurance before you both faced your family. You didn’t answer him, struggling for once to cover how you felt with a lie, but luckily you didn’t need to; with Isaiah, you never really have.

Slowly moving through the house, you shouted out a hello and heard Tommy's voice reply from the kitchen. You were about to make your way to them when the hand you reached out behind you met thin air. Peering over your shoulder in search of the rock you need in Isaiah, he came just in time out of the living room, Finn two steps behind him and tucking an empty tube of tokyo in his inside pocket. You shared a silent greeting through a smile - weak on your side from nervousness and sheepish on his side from being caught - before grabbing Isaiah's hand and carrying on into the kitchen.

The first sight you were graced with was Tommy's frown as he lit a cigarette, nodding his head to you when you entered the room, his frown dissipating when he leant back against the counter and the smoke left his mouth. A stressful morning with business was the last thing you wanted. Everyone’s emotions would be heightened and their tethers near breaking point. The breath in your lungs almost got caught in your throat just at the thought.

But Arthur's voice filled the room before it could. "Y/N, Isaiah, y'alright?" He asked loudly, walking through the room to give an envelope to Tommy, and the cheerful tones told you maybe the stress was on Tommy's shoulders only. You hummed in response, not quite brave enough to open your mouth yet.

Finn nudging past your shoulder by mistake kept you alert to your surroundings as Isaiah went to give a quick greeting to Michael, who sat reading the newspaper with a cup of tea at the table, before pouring some tea for himself. "Watch out would ya," Arthur spoke, shoving Finn playfully to the side, Finn getting out of the way and sitting at the table with a grumble, wiping his nose a bit, "bloody boy." Arthur muttered to himself, his usual temper present but masterfully pushed down, before locking eyes with you still stood in the doorway.

"Y'alright love?" He asked, stopping in his tracks to make sure things were okay. You darted out of your thoughts to look at your brother properly. "Hm? Yeah. Can you stay here a minute though?" You responded, averting your eyes and turning toward everyone else.

Missing the way Arthur shrugged his hands and ventured back to the table, leaning his hands on the back of the last spare chair, you took a breath and steadied yourself.

A quiet rolled over the small room when you picked a slip of paper out of your purse, unfolded it and put it on the table, right under Arthur’s nose for him to read.

A cheque. The first cheque he’s ever seen signed off with your name. A cheque disclosing the exact amount that disappeared from the vault a month ago.

Arthur frowned up at you confused before moving to pick it up himself. “What’s this then?” He asked, looking around at the others for a bit of a clue but finding no help. Tommy rifled through the envelope he’d been given. Michael cast a glance at the cheque then went back to finishing his article. Finn sat scratching his head, keeping himself out of the conversation like he was used to, not that he’d be that much help to Arthur anyway.

When Arthur met your eyes again, you took a deep breath. “The money, from the vault. I’m giving it back.” Arthur’s eyes shot wide, surprised you had been the culprit of the incident (he’d had his eyes on a young blinder he was certain was responsible for a week now).

“You took it? How come?” He frowned again as he asked the question. This one was a little harder to answer. Not only were Arthur’s eyes on you, but Finn was watching you precariously and Michael had let the newspaper in his hand drop on his lap to focus on you too.

You didn’t dare look at Michael, knowing his gaze would stare straight through you and make you crumble under pressure. This money theft had been weighing heavily in the back of Michael’s mind so he wasn’t going to let the answer go without scathe.

“To go to the doctors. I didn’t have my own money to use.” You quickly added, wanting to justify your actions before they could blame you unfairly.

“The doctors?” Arthur repeated, looking over at Tommy again who was still reading through his letter. “What you going the doctor’s for? You’re alright, ain’t you? Nothing wrong?” He spoke, dismissing the reason and not believing you’d have a serious issue without him knowing first.

And that panicked you. Your heart speeding up already. There was something up, something that couldn’t be dismissed, something very well worth seeing the doctor for.

However, a second long glance at Isaiah calmed you down. He stood behind Arthur, porcelain cup of tea in one hand, the other tucked comfortably in his pant pocket. He wasn’t preparing for a fight at all, so why should you? One small subtle nod from him and you knew you’d be fine to speak, regardless of the outcome. He’d be there, Tommy would be there, you wouldn’t find a better chance to say it than now.

“Because I'm pregnant.” The words came out as feebly as you thought they would as you peered down at you feet. Arthur’s eyebrows raised in shock before clearing his throat with a cough that stopped the room from being silent.

“What?” His voice gravelled out of his chest. You looked up to meet his gaze, unnerving and unwavering, daring you to repeat the words he thought he heard the first time.

The movement of Isaiah putting his cup down on the counter had you squaring your shoulders a little. It was a change Tommy didn’t miss when he glanced up after the quiet lack of response, causing him to put the papers in his coat pocket for later.

You repeated yourself, louder this time, more assured despite the clear indifference Arthur's eyes held.

Smoke trailed out of Michael's mouth as he sat up straight in his chair, the cloud dissolving into nothing whilst he folded his newspaper up. Finn didn’t move, quickly inspecting the reactions of Tommy and Arthur before even thinking of speaking up.

Tommy stood still reclined against the counter, cigarette burning between his fingers as he kept his eyes on Arthur and on the door behind you in equal parts, making sure he was prepared for anything that might happen but refraining from acting on it yet.

Arthur’s hand tightened on the back of the wooden chair and his fixed look didn’t let up. He was angry, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on the reason why. Maybe it was because his sweet little sister wasn’t that anymore. Maybe it was because he’d let Isaiah recklessly get his hands on you. Maybe it was because you were young and silly and not ready for this in the slightest. Maybe it was because you hid it from him, and even went as far as stealing, right from the pocket of your family, to stop him from knowing. All of it was hitting him like a dagger in the chest.

His eyes hadn’t left yours before his gruff voice broke the silence again. “Y/N, you better tell me you’re joking now or I swear...” He spoke quietly and your chest shook as you breathed, your lungs tight from nervousness but your shoulders held strong. You weren’t backing down from him, no matter how much your hands trembled.

You shook your head at your brother. “I'm not playing. I'm having a baby, with Isaiah, and I'm keeping it.” Arthur’s eyebrows moved up and down quickly as he sighed out in order to keep his words down. He turned his head toward Tommy, whose face was stoic, not telling Arthur anything at all as he smoked. Arthur’s teeth clenched when he turned back to you, annoyed at the lack of backup from his brother and unsure where to start with his sister.

“You can’t be having a baby, Y/N,” Arthur's voice the only noise in the crowded room. “And why’s that?” You challenged him, his knuckles almost turning white against the chair. Finn's hands fidgeted with the cap on his lap, not wanting to be in the middle of this but not able to escape.

“Really? Well,” he huffed as he stood straight, fingers finally releasing the wooden seat, “you don’t have your own house, you have no cash, you can’t even look after yourself Y/N you’re too young for this!” He listed off the reasons on his hand, voice getting louder with each word that came out.

You put your hands on your hips, frustration mixing with the need to defend yourself as you matched Arthur’s level with your retort. “This is no different to John when he had Martha on her second kid at this age.”

Arthur waved his hand and shook his head. “That’s very different Y/N-"

“How is this different? Why is this any different at al-"

“It just is!” He shouted, slamming a hand on the table between you. You instantly jumped back at the sudden outburst, the boys both flinching too with Michael taking his elbow off the table and Finn scuffing his chair back a bit.

Isaiah stood firmly in his space now and toyed with the cuffs of his jacket to refrain himself from action. Another movement Tommy observed and he internally rolled his eyes at it. Isaiah knew well that this was your time and your situation to control, and that you needed to deal with your brothers in your own way for your own sake. A fight would help nothing right now.

“And before you’re married? Y/N, you aren’t even married for Christ’s sake!”

“You think I'm not married, do you?” You snapped, stopping Arthur from his inching closer and closer over the table top. Tommy’s head shot up in your direction and you could have sworn you found confusion on Arthur’s face before a second later, his and everyone else's attention was drawn away.

Polly opened the double doors from the shop to step through into the kitchen, shutting them behind her. "What in god’s name is going on in here? You're shouting the fucking street down." She chastises through her teeth with a scornful look sent Arthur's way. Neither you nor Arthur dropped your angry stares until Polly's demand of an answer had Arthur stepping away.

"Well," Arthur says, tension in every sound as he walked around the table to Polly's side, "it seems our darling angel girl has gone and got herself up the duff, hasn't she?" He said with bitterness in his words but a thankfully lowered voice as he shot his hand toward you. Polly met your gaze, concerned about the tears that lined your eyes but saying nothing about it yet.

"And that's just so terrible for you, is it?" You spite back, not giving Polly a chance to intervene. You guessed she'd be just as mad as Arthur for you being so silly and reckless, and you needed to fight for this on your own. To Arthur’s point, you had to look after yourself. If not now, when?

However, it isn't the news that's got her concerned, it's the venom in Arthur's words.

"You're not even married Y/N!” He continued his former point, “What are people gonna thin-"

"Well I am getting bloody married aren't I!" You interrupted, throwing your hands up in the anger that's finally caught up with you. Tommy raises his eyebrows questioningly as he keeps watching your movements, a quiet washing over the room again as the boys sat at the table wait for what's coming next.

"I'm engaged," You hold your hand up, your ring glinting in the light, "because Isaiah proposed to me, because he loves me," you drop your hand back to your side in defeat, "more than I can say for some..."

Tommy and Isaiah share a small glance before Isaiah turned to watch you again, leaving that conversation for later, or hopefully never.

After a moment of silent eye contact between you and Arthur, as his chest moved up and down with heavy breaths, he sighed and let his hands drop too.

“You think I don’t love you?” He uttered, “hm?” When he received only silence from you, faced with watching you stare at your feet to avoid him, he almost felt sick.

Everything he does is to protect you, to protect all the people he loves. Even now, as he’s in a blazing shouting match with you, it’s not because he’s angry - no, not truly - but because he’s scared you won’t be okay. Scared that you’re becoming something different to the little girl he practically helped raise. Scared you’ll be going into a world where he can’t protect you anymore.

He can deal with fighting and shouting, but he could never live with himself if you thought he felt anything but love for you.

His breath got caught in his throat and he could sense Polly's eyes burning a hole through his skull. Swallowing his pride, he tentatively asked, “Are you happy?”

“More than ever.” You immediately replied to his sincere-as-possible question.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, subtly meeting Tommy's eye across the room - who doesn't move an inch - then walked around the table with his arms out wide, inviting you to him.

He hugged you tightly and you felt his shaky hands settle on your back. “Then how mad can I be?” He muttered and a small smile etched onto your face, eyes squeezing closed which made the tears you’d been holding finally roll down your cheeks. All the strength you feigned left you as you hugged him back, thankful for your brother’s arms to be holding you up like normal.

With Arthur’s acceptance and lack of Tommy’s protest, Finn stood to his feet and as Arthur held your face, wiping your tears with a loving but faintly nervous smile, Finn made his way to you to give his own congratulatory hug.

Arthur took a second, watching his younger siblings before scanning the room to get his bearings again. And he went straight to Isaiah, gripping him under his arm and pulling him close, sternly muttering the typical older brother threats in his ear for only him to hear. You missed the words said but by the slightly distant look behind Isaiah’s eyes you quickly got the gist.

Pulling away from your hug with Finn, you met Tommy’s eyes across the room as he still leant unmoved against the counter, extinguishing his cigarette in the ash tray beside him. He sent you a wink and a nod, the corners of his mouth poking up for only you to catch sight of.

“Don’t worry Arthur, of course I will.” The words from your fiancé caused you to turn just in time to see your brother patting Isaiah’s neck before walking away, mumbling about a much-needed drink as he dragged his feet through the shop doors and the usual bustling noise of the building returned.

When Isaiah’s gaze met yours, the sliver of fear in his eyes was completely overshadowed by the confident love he held for you. You sent him a silent apology with your eyes which he dismissed with a shake of his head. He took a few steps toward you and gave you a quick kiss before squeezing you into his familiar tight hug, whispering not to stress about it into your neck. It was enough to stop you falling to pieces right in the middle of the family kitchen.

Isaiah rubbed his hand over your back and pulled his head back up, an inch from giving you a quick peck on the lips when his shoulders shot up with a hiss. He quickly turned his head with an angry scowl that instantly vanished at the sight of Polly. She tilted her head to the side, getting Isaiah to take his hands off you without a word. Isaiah left the two of you to yourselves to avoid the wrath of your aunt and went to join Michael across the room, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked.

Polly smirked at your shocked face and it grew when your surprise turned into a slight shocked laugh, shaking your head bemused at her actions. She held a cup of tea out for you and you took a step closer to her. Part of you was still wary of what she'll have to say about your pregnancy, but part of you was also comforted by her presence, knowing she'll never let your brothers step too far out of line with you.

"Are you mad?" You asked cautiously, never wanting to assume with her. She was pouring another cup of tea as she answered. "I was a little when I first found out, I thought I'd told you more than enough times to be careful," she shot you a nettled look before turning to face you properly, "then I had about two weeks for the idea to grow on me." Once again she smirked at the shock on your face. Of course Polly knew, you hardly had to tell her anything without her figuring it out for herself first.

"You'll be fine dear, he's not the worst." Polly joked sincerely, clinking your cups and taking a gulp before putting it down on the side again. You’d yet to move, stunned into stillness by her revelation, when her hand lay firmly on your small belly. She stared down in thought for a few seconds, her touch a stark contrast to the sharp slap Isaiah felt a moment earlier.

A feeling of relief you'd only ever felt once before - when John shot a bullet that skimmed your leg at 12 years old – had managed to fill your chest, almost enough to overwhelm you were it not for the grounding touch of your Aunt Polly.

You let her process her mystic prediction as you finally moved, sipping your drink and sending a smirk over to Isaiah to match his own.

Polly looked up at you with a smile spreading over her face and joy filling her eyes. “A beautiful baby girl.”

#isaiah jesus #isaiah jesus imagine #isaiah jesus x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #finn shelby #michael gray #polly gray #oneshot #my fic #my og post

389 notes · View notes

ewritesfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

A/N: Ok so, I don’t post anything, ever. I’m very much a lurker. But ROTT just ... I couldn’t just sit and do nothing. So I made this blog, and here’s my attempt at a fanfic, with some changes to cannon. The ones important to this piece are that Archie did not stay with Charlemagne, and Krel and Douxie built the new amulet together so they’re a lot closer. This takes place just after the fight between Skrael and Nari, and also contains an idea of mine around a lore change and for a possible either rewrite of ROTT or a continuation, and whichever form it takes would be a much longer fic, which is why this short piece doesn’t have a title. So if people find it interesting and want to see more, please let me know. I’ve never really written fanfic before so I apologize if any of it sounds weird or stilted. If people like this and I do write the larger piece, I’ll probably be posting it on Ao3.

---

Douxie can only watch in horror as the Ice Titan stabs into the torso of Nari’s, ice creeping over and between rock and roots and vines, seeping into the crevices and joints, growing and pulling, straining to rip her titan apart. Her shout of pain and rage echoes across the valley, and she retaliates, one massive leg driving into the Ice Titan’s torso, her vines growing into it, taking purchase where they can, drilling into the glacial limbs and twisting into its heart, determined to take him down with her. The titans rage and the earth shakes as they push and pull, trying to tear each other apart while trying to keep themselves together long enough to kill the other. With a last surge of strength, each is ripped apart with groaning rumbles from the titans and screams from Skrael and Nari. Both titans crumble.

As they fall, Douxie immediately takes off towards the devastation, moving so quickly, Archie is thrown from his shoulder. Though his friends call out for him, his blood is pounding too loudly in his ears for him to hear. Or perhaps, he simply doesn’t care. As he runs, his friends can see the wisps of blue emanating off him, rotating around him, and finally encasing him, his magic aiding him in his desperation to get to his friend, his sister in all but blood.

Breaking into a clearing beneath sky-piercing shards of rock and vaulting broken glaciers, he spots a small green body spotted with melting ice and blackened patches akin to frostbite, limp and still amongst the ruins, the grass beneath her wilting. Every plant in this clearing seems paler, droopier, as if in mourning.

No, not Nari! Not her too!

Douxie immediately runs to her side, his magic dissipating as he skids to his knees, caring not for the blood that now stains the legs of his dirty and ripped jeans. He reaches out, trembling, almost afraid to touch her, to find out that he failed Merlin, failed his friends, failed her.

But he swallows that fear down into a thick knot in his throat, that’s as far as it will go, and carefully he grips her shoulder and turns her to face him. For a second he cannot breathe, her eyes closed and body unresponsive, half of her face blackened and dotted with small spots of frost. He draws her close, cradling her in his lap, unable to comprehend that she might be gone. Gently, he pushes a strand of hair from her serene face with a shaking hand, and it’s then that her eyes crack open, the golden of her good eye dull, the other now completely black.

“Nari?” he breathes, hoping blooming in his chest while despair cramps painfully, not wanting to allow the hope to grow in case he is wrong.

But the small smile that weakly graces her face blows that despair away, and the relief he feels lifts the weight in his chest, overflowing as tears begin to stream down his face. He draws her in for a tight embrace, sobbing hysterically into her shoulder.

“Nari!”

“Douxie,” is all she says, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

He draws back again to look her in the eyes. Her very much alive eyes.

“You’re going to be ok, I’m going to get you back to Camelot, and I’m going to fix you, and you’re going to be ok!”

At that, a sadness creeps into her lidded gaze.

“No, Douxie. My story ends here.” As quickly as his heart soared, it drops, sinking like a rock down into his stomach.

“No! No, you’ll be ok, I can fix this!”

Nari reaches a weak hand up, gently placing it on Douxie’s wet cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear.

“It will all be ok. You will leave here, fight Bellroc. You and trollhunter and friends will save the world.”

“And you’ll be coming with us,” he says, unable to hold back new sobs, deep, soul-wrenching sobs. “Please, Nari.”

“No. I will not. Thank you for protecting me. I have had fun. I am happy I was with you. Now-” her hand slides from cupping his cheek to splaying her fingers on the center of his chest- “You must listen. Bellroc and Skrael and me, we are the holders of the Primordial Arcana. Our magics made this world. They cannot be without masters, not now that the seals are gone. With no masters, they will run wild.”

“W-what?”

“Hisirdoux Casperan, I give to you the Life Arcanum.”

A green light pulses beneath her hand, and Douxie gasps, feeling it pulse beneath his skin. He can feel the energy thrumming through his entire being, from the prickling at the surface of his skin down to the humming at the center of his heart, and intertwining with the magic in his body. It is an ancient, primal feeling, a sense of the sheer age and immensity of this world and for a second it threatens to overwhelm him. There’s a sharp pain and a feeling as if he is being pulled out of his body and in every direction while simultaneously being crushed under the enormity, and then his magic and his soul are pulled into alignment with the heartbeat of life itself. The world lights up around him, every soul alight and burning bright, from the trees around the clearing, to the bugs and the grass they hide in, to his friends coming into the clearing, to the steadily dimming light of Nari. Just as quickly as it started, it stops. Douxie can feel something within him has been forever changed.

“You must find Skrael now. His arcanum will not linger long, you must get it before it escapes. It will help find who is right. Go, my wonderful Douxie, save the world. No more running.”

With that, her eyes fall closed and her body stills, and before Douxie can properly process, her body wafts away in wisps of green, gold, and purple magic, returning to the earth she loved so much. Douxie’s hold drops, collapsing, his arms suddenly empty as yet another of his loved ones is carried away on the wind.

And with that, he throws his head back and screams.

He screams and once again the world vibrates around him, only this time resonating with his soul-wrenching, all-consuming grief, his magic lashing out wildly around him, lighting up the clearing in vibrant blue, the plants twisting and writhing, cracks shooting up the remains of the titans, causing them to ominously creak and groan. Douxie knows he cannot give in to the black hole inside him, that he has to find Skrael’s arcanum and they have to get to Bellroc, he has to do it for Nari, he can’t fail her again, but in this moment he is certain that he will be destroyed, that he will surely drown and be lost.

Despite the magical maelstrom surrounding him, a fluffy head has managed to push through the storm and has found its way into his side and a pair of arms follow shortly, wrapping securely around him.

Blinking bleary eyes open, he can make out through the tears Archie, who he immediately scoops up, and he can see that the pair of arms around him are blue and glowing. Krel.

He folds into himself as his screaming turns to hitched wailing, and so too does his magic, fading, leaving the clearing dim and still once more. He collapses into Krel’s secure embrace, still holding tightly to Archie. Krel wraps his other pair of arms around him, tucking his own head next to Douxie’s, and Douxie curls further into him. He doesn’t say anything, knowing there is nothing he could say to take away Douxie’s pain, so he just silently holds him, running his fingers through Douxie’s hair in an attempt to help ground him. Meanwhile, Archie does his best to maintain a steady purr, keeping himself pressed into Douxie’s chest as he knows Douxie needs when he is distressed, having taken up this position many times over the past 900 years. His wizard now needs it more than ever.

More arms soon appear around them. Jim. Claire. Toby. Blinky. Aaarrrgghh. Together they do their best to hold the broken pieces of their friend together.

After a couple moments, Douxie manages to gather enough strength to choke out, “Need to find Skrael. Get his magic.” He starts to move, wanting to fulfil what Nari asked from him, but Archie presses his weight further into Douxie, and Krel’s arms hold firm.

“No, I need to –”

“Hush, Douxie. Let us handle it,” Archie says. There’s some murmuring between everyone before Claire pulls away, citing that Douxie taught her a containment spell that she can use to hold Skrael’s magic. She quickly departs, taking Aja and Varvatos with her as backup, just in case (at Jim’s insistence).

And so, with that out of the way, Douxie fully gives in and grieves, wading through the ocean within him, anchored by Archie and Krel and the others, keeping him from being swept away.

#tales of arcadia #rise of the titans #hisirdoux casperan #krel tarron #krexie #at least it will be krexie if i do the full piece #fanfic #my fanfic #tales of arcadia rise of the titans #toa #rott #douxie #nari #archie

59 notes · View notes

scathecraw · 4 years ago

Text

BBRae Week 2021 - Day 1: Unconventional Kiss

Raven had been dancing around the issue for weeks now, and both she and Gar knew it. There had been a few near misses after a date gone well, a few breathless close calls during training, and one precipitous moment in the kitchen that fell apart when the smoke detector signaled their distraction.

They had been good dates. Very good dates, to be quite honest. Raven had expected that they would go nearly that well, and that had been why she had held off for so long. With all the emotional vulnerability and insightful talks and fantastic company and so many other things that came with dating someone you had been attracted to for years, she knew that the other shoe would drop, and she would have to just plunge in headfirst. And Gar had been patient – he wasn’t one to rush, especially with her. But he wanted it. And, god help her, she wanted it, too.

A perfect first kiss. The First Kiss, for both of them, hung up on each other for so long that they had never made any real attempts to find anyone else. Kori’s magazines had promised that the first kiss was always awkward and had to be refined by, hrm,repeated practice, but that was only a small part of the fear that gripped Raven when she thought of actually, really putting lips to lips.

It wasn’t Gar. She fully expected him to be just as bad as she was for a while (and likely longer given how quick she could pick things up). It wasn’t even what might… come after. Not as such. It was just… just… it was Important. Capital “I” Important – that things go well. Despite the promise of a bad first kiss by seemingly everyone who had ever kissed, it had to go right. Too wet or too dry, wrong head tilt, wrong duration, whatever – but she wanted to kiss him and do it over and over again and what if he didn’t want to or what if there was no chemistry or what if she sneezed or got so nervous she vomited or any number of things that would, according to all her latest nightmares, put him off wanting her the way she wanted him.

And he seemed so damn blithe about it. Like he couldn’t be less worried, even though she had felt his pulse race and could practically hear his internal monologue turning into a full blown soliloquy. He had that placid smile and those sparkling eyes and smelled like warmth and pine and it was so stupid how he wouldn’t just admit how nervous he was so they could be nervous together.

No, she had to be the mature one and feel all the butterflies for them both. She could practically hear his corny joke about never getting butterflies because he was vegetarian. Stupid Gar and stupid kissing.

It would happen. She would make it happen. And it wouldn’t be perfect, or probably even a very good kiss, but it would be right. Eventually.

____

There was an awful lot of noise and fleeing civilians for an evening out, even at the pier.

Nightwing sighed from atop his favorite ride at the boardwalk, the Ferris Wheel, as he retrieved his communicator and alerted the team. “Titans, we’ve got work to do. Something big is causing trouble at the east entrance. Star and I are on our way and will meet you there.” With that, he stood up in the precariously rocking carriage and Starfire lifted him by the arms, taking off in the direction of the disturbance. Cyborg, heretofore incognito on a date, immediately excused himself and waded through the crowds, shedding his holo-disguise. He was alerted to his passing teammates by a green blur, and called out to Raven as she passed, asking for a ride on one of her ink-black levitating discs. She obliged and they took off after Changeling’s racing avian form.

Gar was the fastest one to respond in these situations. Superhuman reactions and mobility got him to the trouble faster than any of his teammates, and he was proud of it. It meant that he was the first one to engage the enemy, which was a dangerous gambit when he didn’t know what the enemy was, but someone had to be first on the line when every second was a danger to innocent people. In this case, it was more an annoyance than any real threat. Kitten was throwing a very public and destructive temper tantrum, as she tended to do within a few weeks of release/escape.

Her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Fang, was nearby and suffering the brunt of the auditory assault while a swarm of mutated grubs ate their way through stalls and prizes alike. Kitten was waving the control device as she gesticulated wildly, and the chance to end the whole debacle in one fell swoop was too tempting.

Without waiting for backup or giving away his presence, Changeling darted forward as a seagull, beak agape as he neared the remote. He had timed it perfectly, if not for Fang’s suddenly outstretched spiderleg. The blow sent him tumbling into a pile of cheap stuffed animals and he transformed back into himself. The arguing couple immediately turned their ire on him without ever stopping their argument.

“And now look what you’ve done! Your stupidity got this idiot involved! Why couldn’t you just win me a stupid teddy bear like a normal boyfriend?” Kitten raged as she hammered at the controller, causing the grubs to turn their attention towards the dazed and prone Changeling. Fang launched webbing at him, working at cross purposes as the grubs and giving Changeling just enough time to roll out of the way.

“This is not my fault. You know these games are rigged! Why would I give the money I stole to these scam artists?”

“Because you are supposed to! It’s what boyfriends do! They do stupid stuff because I want you TO!” Kitten screamed and threw her remote onto the ground where it cracked and fizzled. Instead of the expected de-metamorphosis from vicious gnawing grubs to harmless caterpillars, there was a rumbling from deep inside the snack stall and a mass exodus of larvae from the vicinity. Gar had just gotten to his feet when a much larger, toothier, and more armored wriggler burst from the shoddy wooden confines, writhing and shrieking even more shrilly than Kitten, and headed directly towards her and Fang in a headlong charge.

Apparently Kitten’s shouting was enough to distract both of them from their imminent death by squirming tank, and Changeling had to make a tough split-second decision – let them suffer the consequences of their own stupidity, or put himself in harm’s way to save them.

It wasn’t much of a choice. Leaping forward, he transformed into a rhino, a fast moving locomotive of heavy armor and muscle and slammed headfirst into the tank sized larva, diverting it and being whipped aside by the unexpected followthrough of the tail end of the grub.

Raven’s disk touched down just in time to see his head collide with a thick support post that held up the boardwalk, and the sounds of argument fell silent as Kitten and Fang wordlessly assessed the situation and fled. Cyborg called out “Get B. I’ll get the worm,” and launched after the creature.

Raven raced to Garfield’s side, seeing the heavy gash and road rash from sliding across the wood. She assessed him as quickly as possible, noting the broken ribs, bleeding, and, most concerning, the lack of breathing. She channeled her power, reaching her soulself into the unmoving shapeshifter on the ground, and urgently repaired his most vital injuries.

The head wound would wait, they always bled more and looked worse than they were. First the broken ribs, eased out and stabilized enough to hold for a little while. Then the badly punctured lung. As the trapped air was removed and the hole patched, she expected him to cough, sit up, and make a dumb joke. Instead he just lay there, silent. His pulse was fine, and there was no reason for him to be so still.

She did all the steps that the Titans’ first aid training laid out for her, making sure his airway was clear, no pressure preventing his breathing or hidden wounds that would cause more damage, then started mouth to mouth.

It only took a few breaths, as if his body had simply not realized for some seconds that he was able to breathe normally again, before the first unassisted rasps began. Raven let out a sob of relief, feeling like his breath resuming was directly connected to her own oxygen. She continued healing him, clearing his head of blood and strengthening the broken ribs before his eyes opened with a groan.

“Did ya get the license of that truck that hit me?” he said, weakly.

Raven nearly hit him. “That was by far the stupidest thing I have ever seen you do. What were you thinking, charging in like that?”

“Aww c’mon, Rae. I had ta’. And I’m sure you’ve seen me do stupider things.”

“None of them had you puncture a lung and stop breathing, you fool. You didn’t need emergency resuscitation when you tried to do a standing backflip.” A jolt of power zapped him with an icicle of cold to the chest, and he coughed.

“At least I stuck the landing this time, heh. I think I can sit up. Thanks for fixing me up, Doctor Rae.”

She glared, and kept glaring as Nightwing checked in. Fang and Kitten had been apprehended almost peacefully by him and Starfire, and Cyborg had incapacitated the grub easily. She reported the situation, not once taking her eyes off her idiot of a boyfriend.

He rolled to his feet, only a little gingerly, and retrieved the broken pieces of the remote control for Cyborg to repair and reverse the changes to the swarm.

As he stooped down to pick up the last pieces, he stopped, and a look of realization dawned on him.

“Wait, you gave me CPR? Like, mouth-to-mouth?”

“Of course. You weren’t breathing and you needed oxygen before any working brain cells died.”

“Y’know,” he said, sitting back down beside her, “I think that counts as our first kiss.”

Raven went still. It couldn’t. It wasn’t even a kiss, it was legitimate medical treatment. But then again, it wasn’t very good, it was at a weird angle, and there was even the terrible fear that she’d vomit out of worry. It checked all the boxes for the perfect terrible first kiss.

He interrupted her musing, “Too bad I don’t remember it. Maybe we could see if trying again might jog some memories.” He reached his arm across her shoulders, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shut up,” she said, and pulled him in for a completely butterfly-free second first kiss.

AO3 FF.net

#bbraeweek21 #bbrae #day 1 #fic

39 notes · View notes

aceofspadegrass · 4 years ago

Text

It's Raining

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Hatter, Tatta Koudai, Arisu Ryohei, Last Boss, Niragi Suguru, Chishiya Shuntaro

Genre: Fluff. Just a thunderstorm, some vibes, and uh.... Monopoly. Briefly.

1.6k words

Man, writing with absolute zero idea of where I was going with it is.... interesting. My only thought was rainstorm, and here's what happened.

Rain pattered against the window, Aguni watching the raindrops fall down the glass with a cup of steaming hot coffee in hand. Takeru was still in bed, sleeping off the spaghetti and red wine they shared last night, half a cookie hanging out of his mouth. Aguni takes a long, slow sip of his coffee, making sure to blow on it beforehand. He didn’t need to burn his mouth after all. He grunts lightly, going over today’s schedule over his head. The rain looked bad, so he couldn’t go out today, nor could anybody else. It might be bad enough for a power outage, Aguni notes internally.

He heads outside and through the halls. The rain was loud even here, but the sound of yelling was louder, cheers and screams coming from Arisu’s room. Aguni peeks inside just to see what was up, after knocking on the door to notify he was coming inside. He blinks as he stares at Niragi, Tatta, and Arisu all sitting in the dark in front of the television, playing some racing game, Arisu firmly in first place with Niragi and Tatta fighting for second just behind him. Niragi and Arisu were more absorbed in the game, Niragi the main source of all the yelling, using Arisu’s blanketed head as an arm rest, the tallest out of all of them sitting on the barren bed while the other two took space on the floor. Tatta seemed less focused at least, although he doesn’t stop playing even as he greets Aguni.

“ Hi! Did you need something?”

“ Uh… just checking up. It’s raining pretty badly. Just be aware there may be a power outage if it gets worse.”

Tatta nods, Niragi grumbling angrily as Tatta hits him with a red shell in the game. “ Okay!” Tatta chirps, Aguni nodding and shutting the door just as Arisu wins the race with an excited cheer, Niragi griping loudly and falling backwards on the bed. Aguni continues down the hall and goes to check up on Chishiya to tell him about the possible outage.

But he couldn’t, as Chishiya was still sleeping, curled up in his chair and a blanket thrown over him, likely from Tatta or Arisu actually caring. Aguni leaves him alone, shutting the door. Chishiya was smart enough to infer on his own when he wakes up. He continues through the house, occasionally taking a sip of coffee as he searches for the last member of the household.

Aguni knocks on Last Boss’ door, and receives absolutely zero response, but Aguni opens anyways. Last Boss was sitting there on the ground with his computer, looking up at Aguni blankly in the dark.

“ Hey. It’s raining pretty badly so be warned.” Aguni tells him, and looks at the ground, sighing at the mess. “ And clean up your room eventually, okay?” He looks back at Last Boss, who says absolutely nothing, continuing to stare blankly at him. Aguni stares back until Last Boss breaks eye contact, going back to typing on his computer without a hint of giving a fuck. He shut the door and makes his way down to the kitchen, drinking more coffee and listening to the rain patter against the windows louder than before. He settles himself with heating up some leftovers, watching the plate spin in the microwave as he sips at his coffee.

The microwave beeps, seconds before Aguni hears thunder pounding outside. Several, in fact. It nearly shakes the house with how loud it was, and Aguni swears he can hear Niragi cursing in Arisu’s room. Aguni pulls out his leftovers and takes a seat at the dining table, just as the lights begin to flicker. Aguni takes a long, slow sip of coffee and sets down his mug, poking at a piece of fish as the lights finally die on him.

Not long after, Aguni hears footsteps, and he look up through the dark as three figures approach, Niragi loudly grumbling and heading straight for the cabinets to look for a torch. Tatta and Arisu both stand there as Niragi rustles through the drawers, Aguni eating silently as Niragi slams open and close drawers. Arisu still had the blanket over his head, which he had wrapped around him so it was basically just a blanket with a face and legs.

“ Where’s the fucking flashlight-“ Niragi grumbles, even opening the medicine cabinet. It is followed by both Arisu and Tatta shrugging and offering nothing useful, Niragi continuing to search and yielding nothing. Aguni gets up only when Niragi tries the same drawer in the past five minutes, getting up and opening the fridge, which also lost its power. He digs inside, Niragi pausing to watch Aguni in pure and utter confusion as Aguni pulls out a flashlight and sets it on the counter by Niragi, shutting the fridge and going back to the table to continue eating. “ Wh-“ Niragi stammers, looking between the flashlight and the fridge. “ Why the hell was it in the fridge-“

Aguni wished he had a sane answer. But nothing was sane about the fridgelight. He finished his coffee and sets the mug down, looking to Niragi. “ Takeru thought it’d be funny.” He explains, Niragi looking at Aguni, eyes furrowed a little and frowning.

“ Why the fuck would-“ Niragi cuts himself off, picking up the flashlight and turning it on, nearly blinding Tatta. “ Whatever. This’ll do. What, do we not have a backup generator?”

“ We used to, but rats got to the wires so we were waiting on someone to come fix it!” Tatta explains, covering his eyes with his hand as Niragi turns the bright beam at his face.

“ Aren’t you a mechanic?”

“ For cars, mostly! Also I tried, but turns out the rats got a lot of the wires all messed up. And uhhhhh….. I might have forgotten to go buy new wires. Or a new generator.”

“ You’re useless.” Niragi mutters, Tatta frowning a little.

“ Rude…. But it’ll be fine until the storm passes by, right?” Tatta looks to Aguni for confirmation, Aguni giving him a brief nod. Tatta smiles, looking back at Niragi. “ See?” “ Fine. Would’ve been nice to have electricity. I’m gonna grab candles. It’s dark as shit in here.” Niragi grumbles, and he stalks away with the flashlight, Arisu and Tatta following behind to help. Aguni stays at the table to finish his meal, existing in his own time.

A few minutes later Niragi comes back and slaps a candle on the table in front of him, already lit. “ There. Have fun with your romantic dinner for one.” Niragi quips, then quickly walks away, Aguni thanking him under his breath and taking another bite of food.

Takeru comes outside as Aguni dumps his trash, holding his phone as a flashlight, heading straight for Aguni and draping himself over the man’s back.

“ Man, it’s so loud….. You doing okay?” Takeru mumbles into Aguni’s shoulder, apparently still very tired, Aguni nodding. Takeru hums, the two standing there in the candlelit kitchen as the rain battered against the house for a while. Takeru only lets go when Aguni starts to move away, arms dropping to the side as Aguni sits down at the table again, his face illuminated by the small faint candlelight. Takeru opens the lightless fridge, the sound of things moving around barely discernible from the loud patter. He pulls out something and shuts the door, coming over to sit across Aguni. In his hand seemed to be a glass bottle, Takeru twisting off the top and taking a sip.

Aguni watches him drink for a while, Takeru draining at least half of the bottle in one go before letting off, satisfyingly breathing out and wiping his mouth with the back off his hand. The house shakes as thunder rumbles outside, Takeru smiling and yawning. “ It’s rough outside, eh? I woke up to that first one but didn’t feel like getting out of bed.” Aguni grunts in response, Hatter nodding to himself. “ Yes, yes. Ah, is the generator still not working?” Aguni shakes his head, explaining the rat situation, Hatter slowly nodding. He finishes the rest of the bottle, letting it hit the table with a decent thunk, sighing and leaning back. “ No reason to sit around and do nothing. Wanna play Monopoly with the kids?”

“ And have to wrestle Chishiya away from stabbing Niragi in the knees again with a toothpick?”

Takeru only shrugs, getting up and walking away. “ What can go wrong this time? Monopoly night! Come on everyone!”

Aguni sighs, getting up and heading over to grab the Monopoly board. He wasn’t paying for the damages.

[AN HOUR LATER….]

Aguni keeps a hold of Niragi’s torso as he attempts (and fails) to reach Tatta, who was hiding behind the blanket blob that was Arisu, who somehow acquired everyone’s blanket in the timeframe he’s been by the board, Chishiya leaning against said blob and smirking at Niragi.

“ I’m gonna tear your fucking face off, you fucking whale shark!”

“ I’m sorry! It’s just a railroad!”

Aguni glances at Takeru, who just smiles and watches, with eyes that were void of any thought in his head. He wasn’t even feeling the slightest bit worried, was he. Aguni sighs, and forcefully pulls Niragi up and lifts him over his shoulder, Niragi trying (and still failing) to get free and attack Tatta.

Aguni much rather would have just sat around and do nothing. Maybe lay in bed with Takeru and talk about life and such.

But no, instead he gets this today, Niragi finally giving up as Aguni dumps him in the time out corner and walks away back to the scene, only to see Tatta having to pay the last of his money to a smug Chishiya. “ Aww, I’m bankrupt.”

“ Should’ve thought about that before having money.” Thunder clapped just as he finished that, Tatta yelping.

“ Ooh, that was a good one!” Takeru chirps, “ Real suspenseful!”

“ Thanks, it wasn’t my intention….. Or was it.”

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #aguni morizono #hatter #takeru danma #tatta kodai #arisu ryohei #niragi suguru #chishiya shuntaro #last boss #takatora samura #mmmmmm rain-#yeah this is the same universe as the vacation things #hatter + aguni and their sons #all of them

36 notes · View notes

libsterslobsters · 5 years ago

Text

I'm Gonna Crawl: Post 2

Post 1

Summary: Five years. That's how long the reader and Bucky have been apart (although for him, it was only five minutes) Now with Thanos defeated and both of them taking up the mantle of Avengers, can their relationship return to what it was? Or will they have to discover a new normal?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! super-soldier! Reader (Reader can see pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, language, smut (IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN, DON'T READ!!!)

*************************************************

One of the perks of being “enhanced” or in this case, a super soldier, is that you heal quickly. Within seventy-two hours, the bullet wound in his leg (not to mention the cut and black eye he sustained from several sharp blows to the face) and her matching one in the shoulder are almost completely healed, only a vague pink mark to show they were ever injured. The downside is-

“Do you want to punch sandbags until they fly off the hook, or run thirty miles around the compound first? I’ll start with whichever you don’t pick.” -they’re back to training as well.

He almost answers that he really doesn’t want to do either, it’s Sunday morning, for fuck’s sake, but it’s not like this is her first choice for what she could be doing this morning either, so he goes with-

“Punching things first. Think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, so I’d best get it out of my system.” She nods and, squeezing his arm, takes off at a jog.

“See you on the other side.”

His instinct is to tell her to take it easy, she lost a lot of blood the other day and who knows if there’s been some bone or muscular damage that hasn’t quite fixed itself yet, but again, he swallows it down and focuses on the task at hand. Namely, taking out his bad mood on a punching bag.

Usually, when his body is in motion, his mind is at least somewhat at rest, but this time around, the exertion is just adding fuel to the flames. He’s too pissed off to just zone out and concentrate on hitting the target, still too busy trying to process what the hell happened three nights ago.

It was their first mission together. She’s been on a few separate from him, and he and Sam get called out together on the regular. Stupidly, he assumed that, since her specialty is translating or gathering intel, maybe being the little voice in someone’s ear to direct them through a maze of assailants and twisting corridors her visions had allowed her a glimpse of ahead of time, she’d be out of the line of fire. At the very least, most of the attention would be on him and Sam. But no, she was the bogey. She drew fire while he waltzed through a military fortress, recapturing stolen tech. When Rhodey so much as mentioned that possibility, he should’ve told him no, hard no. If anyone’s drawing fire, it’s him. Still, in his arrogance, he assumed it wouldn’t come to that extreme. Sam’s good at his job, and as much as he hates the reason behind it, so is he. They should’ve been able to hold the line without her painting a target on her back.

That, of course leads to yet another issue. He’s also pissed at himself for instinctively seeing her as more fragile, something that needs to be protected. Even before the same chemicals running through his veins infected her, she’d proven that she’s a damn capable person. He knows that she’s smart, both strategically and academically. Add onto that the fact that she’s fast and strong, not to mention she has visions (less than helpful ones most of the time, but they have their moments), and she’s a powerful ally. He certainly wouldn’t want to be on her bad side. And yet, when he saw that she’d been hit, his mind completely emptied. He wouldn’t have been able to remember which end of a gun to use if his life depended on it, because all he could think was, “Oh god. She’s hurt.” It’s old-fashioned, outdated. He should be past this mindset, at least when it comes to work. Out there, she’s his fellow soldier, not the woman he lies awake next to in bed, sometimes for hours, just to listen to her breath and know he’s not alone. Did Steve ever put Peggy in that box, he wonders? No, of course not, because Steve’s a better man than he ever was or will ever be. So yeah, he’s pissed off at himself.

And finally, although he can barely admit it to his own mind, he’s pissed off at her. Logically he knows it’s mostly fear, some primal instinct to protect what’s his, but every time he imagines her being shot, having a bullet pass by her lungs and arteries by a very narrow margin, and then telling Sam not to let him know that she was hit, it irks him. Did she think he’d come unhinged? Screw up? Or is she stuck in the mindset she seems to have adopted as a response to the last five years of “Screw looking after myself. It doesn’t matter.” A small part of him realizes that he didn’t call in either when he took a bullet, but that’s him! And, now he’s circling back to guilt for treating her like she’s weak.

All in all, he’s so damn furious that he doesn’t realize he’s no longer alone until she grabs hold of his arm just as he goes to swing again.

“Jesus, Bucky. I know you’re grouchy, but don’t you think destroying five punching bags in thirty minutes is enough? Save some aggression for the run.”

He looks up to tell her something (I’m sorry? Damn right I’m grouchy? Let me take you home and wrap you in blankets so that nothing will ever hurt you again?) and catches sight of her sweat-soaked face. He hates how far she takes things with the running. It’s like she’s trying to see what the limits are, how much she can punish her body before it gives out and she drops. That’s what it was in the very beginning after the snap. She’s told him that. Now he wonders if she’s really as recovered from everything that’s happened as she claims.

“Have you had anything to drink? Water, or-” She groans and reaches to detach the punching bag (there’s a decent sized rip in it where he was hitting it over and over), making her shirt ride up. Her clothes were already so tight that just seeing her out of the corner of his eye was making it hard to think, but now they’re completely adhered to her in a way that’s nearly obscene thanks to all the sweat. Dammit. Think about something else. He needs to think about something else.

“Yes, I’m on my second water bottle, thank you Barnes. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Just self-destructive.” It slips out before he can stuff it down. Her mouth falls open in shock momentarily, but then she squares her shoulders and looks him directly in the eyes.

“You’re one to talk. Always running straight towards the fire instead of putting it out first.”

“That’s my job.”

“It’s your hangup.” She laughs bitterly. “Bucky Barnes, the big, bad Winter Soldier. You’ve decided you’re so fucked up that the only way you can make amends is to run headlong towards whatever’s trying to kill you, without backup I might add, and keep to your mission no matter what your personal damage is.”

“Says the woman who took a bullet and stopped Sam from announcing that you’re hit.” They’re teetering closer and closer to a fight with every nearly snarled word, but he’s powerless to stop it. In fact, he’s ready to go. Have it out. But not right now, because-

“Hey.” He catches her arm just as she starts to hoist another punching bag onto the hook. “Be careful! You’re still healing.” -she’s hellbent on hurting herself. Again.

She whirls around as if he’s slapped her.

“Oh my god. You have to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop treating me like I’m going to break!” Her voice is shrill, rising higher and higher with each syllable. “I love you, but you are driving me insane. I am not your child-”

“No, you’re the person I want to marry!” He takes a deep breath, preparing to follow up with, “-and you keep acting like you have a death wish”, but before he can-

“You won’t even fuck me anymore!” Immediately, her eyes go wide and she slaps a hand over her mouth.

If her declaration surprised her, it absolutely stunned him so, not quite sure what else to do, he takes a few steps back and sits down. A few seconds pass before she approaches and, with a heavy sigh, sinks down next to him.

“Bucky, I am so sorry. I don’t know where any of this is coming from-”

“I think you do, Doll.” Her eyes dart nervously between his face and the floor. On instinct, he reaches over and takes her hand. “And so do I.” He takes a few moments to rearrange his thoughts before pushing ahead. “A lot has changed since-”

“The world ended. We lost. And then we won.” He nods.

“Yeah, and I don’t think either of us have quite wrapped our heads around it. I know I haven’t.”

It’s silent for a moment, and then, voice trembling, she tells him,

“After you went away, I was completely lost. Didn’t know why I had to stay. What kind of cruel trick is it, just when everything was starting to go right-” He finally had the poison of HYDRA sucked out of him, she’d found a safe place where she didn’t have to run and hide because of something she was born with, he’d worked up the nerve to ask her if she’d maybe one day be his wife. “-and then it’s wiped out? You finally went somewhere I couldn’t follow.” He still can’t imagine what those five years must’ve been like, not just for her, but everyone else who survived the snap. “I didn’t want to keep going. But I had to.” She chuckles. “Steve wouldn’t let me throw in the towel.”

A smile forms on his own face. “Yeah, he had a habit of doing that.”

“I guess…” She sighs. “I don’t know. I got harder, rougher around the edges. I thought I could just go back to normal once everyone came back-”

“But old habits die hard.” It’s not a question, but she nods.

“Yeah, and as much as I chip away at it, I’m not sure I’ll ever get back to who I was before.”

“You won’t.” She peers up at him, eyes wide in shock, maybe a hint of sadness. “I can tell you that right now from experience. You won’t go back, but-” He’s had a lot of time to consider this, so he can say it and absolutely believe it. “-I love the girl that’s here now. She’s pretty amazing, rough edges and all.”

She’s sitting so close. He could pull her into his lap, just hold her for a minute. So, that’s what he does, and just like the first time, they fit together perfectly, like she was made to fit in his arms, or maybe he was made to hold her. Either way, it leaves no doubt in his mind that they belong together.

“You changed. Everyone does. You got stronger and tougher, because that’s who you had to be. And I wasn’t there to change with you.” He can feel her shoulders shake, and even though she’s facing away from him, he knows she’s fighting back tears. “But I’m gonna catch up. It’s just taking me a while to get it through my thick skull that my girl’s a badass, and I need to ease off the bodyguard routine a little.” There. That’s more like it. A laugh, even if it’s a small one. “I just worry about you, is all. I don’t know how to stop it, and I’m not sure I can, but I’m working on it.”

“I worry about you too, you know.” She sniffs, swiping at her nose with her hand. “I’m fucking terrified because, now that I’m like you, I know what your limits are. I’m scared you’ll forget them, or you’ll ignore them because you’re trying to be a good man.” She cranes her head, meeting his gaze. “But you are a good man, Bucky Barnes. You never stopped being one, no matter what you think.”

“I think your picture of me might be more flattering than who I really am.”

“Shut up.” She presses her palm over his mouth. “I have visions, so seeing is never my problem. And it’s not the way I’m picturing you. We’ve known each other long enough for the shine to wear off.” Never. It’ll never be possible for him to know her so long that she’s not absolutely golden from where he’s standing. “It’s who you’ve shown me you are. And if the rest of the world doesn’t see it, that’s their problem. Not yours.”

He’s not sure if he buys all that, but it’s enough that she does. She sees him as that man, so he’ll try every day of his life to be just that.

“Come on.” Gently pushing her off of him, he stands and offers her his hand. “That’s enough training for today. We’re still wounded.”

She chuckles. “Is that your excuse for calling it early?”

He nods, barely suppressing a grin. “That, and you’ve gotta change into something that doesn’t fit you like a second skin before my brain permanently short-circuits.”

“Showers, then?”

“Showers.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

The compound sustained heavy damage thanks to Thanos crashing a ship into it, but in the past few months (helped along by Pepper’s billions and the entire galaxy’s appreciation towards the Avengers in equal parts), enough repairs have been done to make it partially usable. In this case, the locker room. Just the one, though. Which, of course means co-ed showers.

She won’t admit it, but she’s particularly appreciative of that little detail today. As she circled the compound on her last lap, she saw that the only two cars there are hers and Barnes. They’re the only two people here, and she fully intends to use that to her advantage.

“Join me? I don’t want to overextend my shoulder trying to wash my hair or back.” It’s a blatant lie, and from his expression, she can tell that he knows it too. But, he nods.

“Yeah, doll. I can do that.” Part one of the plan has been executed beautifully. Onward to part two.

She purposely leaves the travel sized bottles of shampoo and body wash on the floor so that, after rinsing off for far longer than is really necessary, she has to bend over to retrieve them. If it weren’t for her enhanced hearing, she’d completely miss the sharp intake of breath in response to her little show, but she catches it and can’t help grinning to herself. Part two: get him as worked up as she is. So far, so good.

The feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp, working the shampoo through her hair, is almost enough to make her forget that she’s a woman on a mission. Almost. As soon as she’s rinsed the soap out of her face, she turns to him.

“Your turn. Bend.” It’s not the first time they’ve done this, and as always, she has to fight back a laugh as he inclines his head towards her, the entirety of his hair falling forward to cover his face. “This used to take a lot longer before you decided to chop it all off.” He chuckles, eyes closed against the soap.

“What can I say? Seventy-three years without a haircut is my limit.” She can’t blame him, and although it was a shock at first, she’s come to like this new look. It makes him look…younger, somehow. More boyish. Like his life hasn’t contained as many horrors as they both know full well it has.

“You checking for lice or something?”

“Huh?” That jerks her out of her sentimental daze. “Looks like you’re clear.”

There’s no way to put it politely. She’s straight up ogling him as he rinses off. Five damn years…

“Ready to get your back?” And, she just got caught staring.

“Sure.”

His hands are gentle, putting as little pressure on her injured shoulder as possible, growing firmer as they work down her back. She holds her breath as she feels his palms ghost over the swell of her ass, but then he’s back to safer territory. At least, that’s what she thinks until the metal arm snakes around her chest, just below her breasts, holding her in place. His free hand runs down from her sternum to her middle, stopping just above her hips, then- fuck. Nothing. He’s backing away.

“Do you need help with your legs?” No, what she needs help with is located between them. Suddenly, the shower feels far too hot, and she’s desperate to cool off.

“That’s okay.” Her voice is shaky, and she mentally berates herself as she steps under the spray, rinsing away the soap.

She’s not at all sure that her excuse for leaving the shower and going to towel off made any sense, but with a few feet between them, she’s able to breath again. Alright, scratch the whole “shower seduction” idea. It wasn’t that great to begin with. She gets him as hot and bothered as she is, and then what? Shower sex is a slippery affair, and plus there’s the height difference… in the steamed up mirror, she catches sight of him climbing out of the shower and toweling off. Fuck it. What does she have to lose?

“Come here.” As he turns around, she hops up on the counter top (thank fuck Stark went all out and got the sinks that can easily hold the weight of an adult), allowing her towel to slip further down her chest.

She doesn’t miss the way his eyes flit down to her cleavage before settling back on her face as he stands in front of her.

“Yeah, Doll?”

“Let me get your hair. You’ll never get it dry yourself.” She’s really running low on excuses, but if she plays her cards right, she won’t have to keep up this ruse for much longer.

“You know-” She murmurs against his ear as she starts working a towel over his tousled locks, “-if you don’t take me right now, I’m gonna be really offended.”

His head snaps up, and she nearly drops the towel.

“Well, I can’t let that happen, can I?”

She has a smart-ass remark all planned out, but then his lips are pressed against hers, hard, insistent, and her brain completely empties of anything other than pure need. She’s not completely sure how, but somehow the towel wrapped around her torso (it’s so short, it didn’t even cover her ass sitting down) disappears, leaving them chest to chest, both still slightly damp from the shower. On instinct, her legs wrap around his back, bringing them so close together she can feel his cock twitch against her thigh.

“The floor, or-” It’s murmured against her ear between nibbles.

“No. Here.” It’s all she can do to hold back a moan as his whole body rumbles with quiet laughter.

“Someone’s eager.”

She leans back far enough to peer into his eyes.

“And you’re not?” The response is a thumb against her clit, and she has to bite down hard on his shoulder to muffle a yelp.

“If I’d known you were ready, you wouldn’t have gotten any sleep for the past two months.” That would’ve been a very small price to pay.

Five years is a long time, and her body tenses up at the intrusion of his finger inside of her, but she immediately forces her muscles to relax, and within seconds, it’s all she can do not to writhe against him.

“That’s it. Relax. I’ll take care of you.” It’s a lost cause. This is going to be noisy. She hazily thinks to herself that it’s all his fault.

He’s always been one for foreplay, making sure she’ll be comfortable once they actually get around to the main event, but finally enough is enough and, reaching between them, she stills his wrist.

“Get inside me.”

“Are you sure? You’re still tight-” Disentangling one of her arms from around his neck, she gives his hair a sharp tug.

“I’m like you now, remember? You’re not going to break me.”

He pulls back from her, hesitating, eyes darting between her face and the door.

“What?”

“I don’t have-” Oh. She quickly runs the calculations in her head. Given which day of the month it is, the likelihood would be-

“It’ll be fine. Just pull out.” To her relief, he doesn’t argue.

Her breath catches as he pushes inside of her, and if the panting against her neck is anything to judge from, she’s not the only one affected.

“It’s been too damn long.” Despite the situation (or perhaps because of it), she laughs breathlessly.

“You think it’s been too long? Try five fucking years!” His laugh tickles her neck.

“You’re never gonna stop using that one, are you?”

“Nope. I think I’ve earned the right.” After all, he constantly reminds her that he had to wait 98 years to meet the love of his life, so fair is fair.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you.”

“Sounds like you just set yourself a challenge.”

“Guess I’d better get to work then.” As he says it, he pulls nearly all the way out only to slam back in again.

It’s primal, the way their bodies move together, desperate for a connection that’s been missing for so long. There’s no room or need for words to be spoken; their gasped breaths and strangled moans say it all. His hand sneaks between them, toying with her nub, and that’s what sends her over the edge. It’s the tipping point for him too because, muffling his cries against her shoulder, he pulls out just in time.

“We shoulda done that before the shower.” She’s still gasping for breath, but it forces a laugh from her. He follows suit, offering her a spare towel to clean herself up.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Barnes.” He shoots her a questioning look as she hops down on shaky legs. “I thought it was good before, but damn.”

He laughs, pulling on his jeans. “I didn’t want to risk breaking the bed. I’m a gentleman like that.” She knows the real concern was her safety, but if she concentrates on that too hard, she’ll start going mushy, and in this instance, crying after sex seems like it would kill the mood.

“You know-” She pulls her t shirt over her head, not bothering with a bra. “-I never really liked the bed I have now anyway.” It’s also really too small for two full-grown adults to share comfortably.

Sliding his duffle bag over his shoulder, he takes her hand. “Then maybe we should go home? Give you an excuse to get a new one?” Before she can answer-

“Go home. Please, I’m begging you, for the love of god, go.” Her eyes dart towards the source of the noise. The door, or more specifically, the other side of it. “Hearing you and the bionic man fucking once was enough. I’m gonna shoot you both and then myself if I have to listen to round two.”

Bucky catches her eye and mouths “Oops!”, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“You know Sam, you could’ve just walked away. You didn’t have to wait outside the door like a creep.” She has to bite her fist to keep from laughing out loud.

“Yeah, trust me. I could hear you from all the way down the hall.”

“Sorry.” She gasps it out between bouts of laughter, and she must be pulling a funny face, because he snickers to.

“No, you’re not.” No, she really isn’t. Just that they got caught.

“We’re heading out. You’ve got the place to yourself.” Giving his hand a tug, she pulls open the door, revealing a flustered Sam.

“I hope you remembered to wipe down the counter, you nasties!”

As they make their way down the corridor, Bucky calls out,

“See you Monday?”

“Yeah. And you’d better be wearing pants!”

#marvel #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #post endgame #smut #part 2

64 notes · View notes

e-milieeee · 5 years ago

Text

tell me your heart—ladrien

Summary: Marinette finally works up the courage to tell Adrien her feelings. Except there’s one little problem: she accidentally does it as Ladybug, not as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Notes: happy anniversary, APS! this is slightly messier than my usual fics but marinette is a mess and so is my brain and yall robbed me of my brain cells :( super glad i joined the server and ily all!!

Or click here to read on AO3

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is going to confess today.

It’s not going to be like the twenty-second attempt, when she had left her water bottle’s lid screwed on too loosely and ended up digging out a soggy piece of paper in front of Adrien, which Marinette had stupidly dumped into his hands before running.

It’s not going to be like the thirty-sixth attempt, when she had slipped in front of a banana peel and tripped face first into Adrien’s chest and promptly told him to ‘stay peachy!’

It’s definitely not going to be like the thirty-ninth attempt, one that was too embarrassing for her to recall. Marinette keeps that one in the cobwebbed crevices of her memories with caution tape layered all over the crime scene. No, this time will be perfect, because everything—every roadblock, every little thing that has the slightest potential to go wrong—has been dealt with.

Except, that is, the akuma attack that happens right after school.

By the time she purifies the akuma and bids Chat goodbye, Adrien’s schedule has moved from Chinese lessons to fencing. In a mad scramble, Marinette snatches her backpack up from the corner she’d tossed it right before the akuma attack. Inside, nestled carefully, are a pair knitted mittens. They’re less colorful than the rest of her inventions, but it’s been meticulously tailored to fit Adrien’s color scheme in a way that she hopes won’t clash with his other clothing (and, fingers crossed, will pass Gabriel Agreste’s critical eye). In a smaller box lies five passionfruit macarons that she’d woken up to bake at four in the morning.

It’s all perfect—every little bit—nothing can go wrong. Absolutely nothing.

She runs past one of the other fencing boys on the way, ignoring the strange look he sends her. Then, crossing her fingers that Adrien is still in the locker room, rushes inside.

It’s empty at first glance, and while Marinette’s heart drops, she isn’t deterred. She has a backup plan to the backup plan. And a backup plan to that. If she can’t catch Adrien before fencing, she’ll catch him after. If she can’t catch him after, she knows exactly where his Chinese lesson is—it’s all foolproof. No loopholes. No mushy notes, no banana peels.

Except she doesn’t need to find him after. Because there, at the last row of the lockers, stands Adrien Agreste.

He’s all dressed in his white fencing gear, arranging his shoes with the helmet tucked under his arms. Marinette practically barrels towards him, holding the gift-wrapped mittens and the box of passionfruit macarons. She’s out of breath, but it’s not from the running. Nervousness churns in her stomach, in her chest, until she feels like she’s going to barf.

No. She is not going to barf on Adrien Agreste attempting to confess to him. That would make it even worse than attempt thirty-nine.

“Adrien,” Marinette announces loudly.

Said boy looks up at her. His eyes widen, hands dropping from his shoes and leaving his laces untied, before he straightens. His mouth is open and does not close.

Is she that surprising? Maybe it’s because she’s in the boy’s locker room? But Marinette has long decided that doesn’t matter. She’s going to do it. She’s going to say it. Now.

“I have something to tell you,” she continues. “Do you have a moment?”

“Yes,” Adrien replies. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her. “Um, definitely. Definitely have a moment.”

Mentally, Marinette congratulates herself. Her voice has remained even and confident, and she sounds like she knows what she’s talking about. Judging by the look of surprise that still hasn’t disappeared from Adrien’s face, she figures that she might be doing something right, finally. Or maybe something horribly, horribly wrong—

That thought drives out the eloquent speech she had prepared to deliver. Reverting back to her mess of words, Marinette thrusts out her arms, where the two packages lie.

“I like you,” she declares.

Oh, no.

That was not how it was supposed to go. Marinette opens her mouth to amend, although she only ends up digging an even deeper hole. “Like, as in like-like you. Not as a friend. I mean—I mean, I do like you as a friend! But more than that too. I’ve liked you since you gave me your umbrella on the first day, and I realized you were such a compassionate, considerate person and you really care for your friends and you’re amazing and you smell good— argh.” She looks down at the gifts she’s still holding out to Adrien, tucked between red and black lined up her arms and tries to collect her words. “I like you a lot Adrien, and I know you might not feel the same, but I wanted to—”

The realization hits Marinette a second before Adrien manages out, sounding like he very much might faint, “Ladybug?”

They stare at each other. Then, like the idiot she is, Marinette blurts, “I’m not Ladybug, I’m Marinette.”

Oh, God.

It's tragedy at it’s finest. This much, much worse than the time she’d dumped her yoghurt over his head.

Marinette knows that she should do something to fix the situation. Especially now, as Ladybug, who should be able to fix more than she ruins. Will it work if she summons a Lucky Charm? If she Miraculous Ladybug’s the situation, will Adrien forget about the very, very conspicuous slip-up?

No, probably not.

“Um,” Adrien manages. His face is as pale as a sheet. “Ladybug? I—I don’t—uh, are you sure you’ve got the wrong person? This is for—that’s for me?”

Amidst the panic, Marinette’s heart still manages to drop even further. Of course. It’s a little vague, his reply, but it’s enough for her to understand the undertones in his voice.

“No,” she stammers, reverting right back to a stuttering mess she had been so certain she was long past. Then, as if she hasn’t contradicted herself enough today, she thrusts the bundle—macarons, mittens—into Adrien’s arms. He manages to catch it all, despite her shaky fumbling.

“I’m sorry,” Marinette tells him, because it’s the only thing she can think of saying.

Adrien doesn’t move. His mouth is open and Marinette can’t tell if the expression on his face is shock or confusion or worst—disgust.

The countless possibilities and the sheer terror of not-knowing throws Marinette into action. In one well-rehearsed action, she throws her yo-yo towards the window. It slams against the lock, opening a sliver.

And, like a coward, Marinette runs.

***

She’s missing.

Adrien has searched everywhere.

He’s well aware of the fact that he skipped fencing; Nathalie will undoubtedly find out and therefore his father will too, but he can’t bring himself to care. He can spin another story about the akuma attack—it doesn’t matter, not when Ladybug— Marinette— is nowhere to be found.

He scours the whole school first, as Adrien Agreste. Then, without letting Plagg convince him into doing anything smarter, Adrien transforms into Chat Noir.

It’s very apparent he has lost his ability to think things clearly when he stops by at the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery to ask for Marinette’s whereabouts.

He’s hit with memories of his last visit here, as Chat Noir: standing in front of the door, imposingly large, with a single pink rose in hand. That might’ve been one of the most terrifying days of his life.

How ridiculous to think that it had been Ladybug—Ladybug, Marinette, Ladybug—that had welcomed him inside, Ladybug whom he had kissed so nervously on the cheek, Ladybug’s parents who…

Adrien’s head is spinning so much that he thinks he’s going to be sick.

The bakery isn’t very crowded when he enters, but he assumes it's because he came at an odd time. He sees Marinette’s mother behind the counter, straightening the displays. Her eyes widen when she sees him. Tom Dupain is nowhere in sight, which Adrien decides is most likely best for himself. They left on decent terms, but he doesn't want to explain to the man why his daughter might be possibly missing.

“Chat Noir!” she exclaims. “What a lovely surprise.”

He manages to return her smile, but it feels more like a wince. “Is La—Marinette home, Mrs. Cheng?”

“Sabine,” she corrects. “And no, not that I know of. School ended and she has yet to come back. Would you like me to pass a message for her?”

Adrien tries to hide his disappointment, but he’s pretty sure Sabine is too perceptive to have missed the way his ears drop. “That’s okay,” he tells her. “Any idea where she might be?”

A shake of her head. Adrien bids her farewell before rushing out, hoping to avoid any more questions.

His next destination is Alya’s house. She’s home, sitting in her room editing the formatting for the Ladyblog. Adrien doesn’t dare walk through their front door, but instead, taps on the window as he clings onto the side of the apartment.

Her eyes go wide when she sees him, and the window is thrown open in a moment and Alya practically sticks her head out. “Chat Noir!” she exclaims with her usual enthusiasm. “What can I help you with? Actually, do you think I could interview—”

“Not now.” He readjusts his grip. “I’m actually looking for Marinette. Do you know where she is?”

Alya frowns. “Marinette? I haven’t seen her since after school. She went looking for one of our classmates—Adrien Agreste? Maybe you’ll find her with him.”

Adrien’s heart stutters a little when he hears his name from her lips, an old nervousness about his identity. He does his best to make sure his expression doesn’t betray his thoughts, and instead offers Alya a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, anyway,” he says. “I’ll just keep looking.”

He can see the question forming on her lips. Adrien practically flees to avoid questioning yet again.

He visits many places, everywhere he can imagine Marinette would go. He even turns up at the Couffaine’s boat, but the answer he receives is the same: no, she hasn't been here.

An hour into his search and Adrien finally . begins to look for spots he knew Ladybug would visit.

He scours Eiffel tower. The area around Notre Dame. He goes to the school again, for good measure. Neither Ladybug or Marinette are anywhere in sight.

It’s at the banks of the Seine that Adrien nearly gives up. He drops by at Andre’s ice cream stand, grudgingly heading over when the man beckons to him.

“Looking for somebody?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Adrien toes the ground. “Has Ladybug passed this area?”

Wordlessly, Andre points his hand towards the row of rooftop. Adrien follows his gaze to them, where bricks and stone dip and form into structures, and—

There.

Red against blue, outlined against the sky.

There.

Adrien sucks in a breath. “Thank you,” he breathes to Andre before leaping off.

He drops by behind Ladybug thirty seconds later, his throat closing and chest constricting. She doesn’t turn around even though she must’ve heard the thump of his landing.

She looks impossibly small sitting there. But of course. Ladybug is Marinette—short and cute and bright and generous Marinette, who’s adorably clumsy and sometimes stumbles with her words around him. Other times, she snaps at Chloe—Chloe, who no one else dares confront—without an ounce of fear. (Figures. After facing akumas as Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng probably wouldn’t be scared of Chloe.)

There, with her legs pulled to her chest and untouched ice cream melting in a couple next to her, Adrien finds himself reconciling the two people very easily in his mind, even if part of him still trembles with disbelief and anticipation.

Marinette—Ladybug—is in love with Adrien Agreste; Ladybug is in love with him.

It’s that thought that gives him courage to take a step forward. “Hey,” he greets, throat dry.

“Hey,” she replies softly. “Why are you out right now, kitty?”

Adrien sits down beside her. “Something surprising happened to me today and I needed time to clear my head. You?”

She turns her head to look at him, and for the first time, Adrien takes her features in with the whole picture in mind. Blue eyes like the sky, black hair. They even had the same hairstyle. The same voice. Ladybug pouts like Marinette does when she’s trying to convince people, because God help him, Ladybug was Marinette.

“Remember the boy I told you I liked?” Ladybug mumbles.

The sting in his chest is gone when she mentions it. Mentions him.

All those days of harbouring jealousy—jealousy Adrien had told himself many times was irrational yet could not let go of—at Ladybug’s unnamed crush, and it had been himself all along.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I made a mistake today.” She stretches her legs out in front of her and gives him a sad little smile. “I thought… I don’t know what I was thinking, but I thought I should finally tell him what I feel about him.”

“Did he reject you?” Adrien asks carefully.

“Yes—no, but I-I might’ve accidentally given away my identity. He isn’t the sort of person who would go around telling anybody, but I just—I mean, now he knows I’m Ladybug. And the worst part is that the first thing he said was are you sure you’ve got the wrong person. So maybe that was a rejection. Maybe—I mean, what if he was disappointed? To find out who Paris’ superhero really was?”

“Why would he be disappointed?”

Ladybug throws her arms up. “Because it’s me,” she says. “I’m just a normal girl underneath the suit. Maybe he was expecting…maybe he was expecting someone more phenomenal. Someone more…worthy? It’s just… yeah, the options could’ve been much worse. But they could’ve been much better, you know? Maybe if I hadn’t accidentally confessed as Ladybug, he wouldn’t have been…wouldn’t have been as disappointed.”

Her words hurt, the fact that this is what she thinks about herself and his opinion of her, but Adrien doesn’t let himself give in yet. The words and dancing on the tip of his tongue— Plagg, claws in— but he seals them away for later. “If this boy you like doesn’t think you’re worthy, then he’s not worthy,” he tells her. “Underneath the suit, whoever you are, I’m certain you’re just as amazing.”

She laughs, but it’s a little strained. “Thanks, kitty,” she whispers. “I wish he thought like that as well.”

Adrien can barely sit still. It must be black magic that his voice comes out without trembling. “Maybe he does.”

“If he did, why did he say that? He looked shocked, and it wasn't the sort of good shock?”

“Did you give him a chance to respond?”

“Well… no.”

“Maybe Adrien would’ve said something different if you stayed a little longer.”

“Or maybe he would’ve said even worse— wait. Did you just say Adrien?”

She looks at him now, and Adrien’s heart is beating so fast that he’s sure it’s going to rip right out of his ribcage. “Did you say Adrien?” she repeats when he doesn't immediately respond.

Adrien takes a deep breath. “Plagg, claws in.”

His transformation falls in a burst of green light, too quick for Ladybug to turn away, too sudden for her to remember to close her eyes.

Silence follows. Then, with a loud shriek, she practically leaps to her feet. “ Adrien?”

Now that he’s reached the end of what’s been thought through, Adrien can only improvise. He opens his palms, which are sticky with sweat. “Ta-da?” he announces weakly.

Ladybug lets out a sound that sits between a sputter and a choke. She points a finger at him. “You’re Adrien,” she says.

“Yeah. And you’re—you’re Marinette.”

They stare at each other, both speechless, before Adrien says, “I wasn’t disappointed, you know. I was just… I wasn’t functioning properly because the girl I’ve been in love with for the past six months confessed to me. And because I was so used to you turning me down that it was just—uh, it was shocking. But I promise you it’s the best sort of shock. Not the bad kind you were talking about."

“Oh my God,” Ladybug manages. “ You’re Chat. Of course you’re Chat Noir. And…all those times—I dumped yoghurt on Chat Noir’s head?”

Adrien can’t help the laughter that bursts out. “Ladybug dumped yoghurt on my head,” he confirms.

“I’ve… thrown Adrien Agreste off the Eiffel tower for fun.”

“I sit in front of Ladybug in class.”

“Adrien’s face is plastered all across the city and nobody suspects that you’re Chat Noir!”

At that, she bursts out laughing. It’s a little hysterical, but it’s laughter all the same, and she laughs until she has doubled over, clutching her stomach and shaking. “We’re so stupid,” Ladybug manages out between giggles. “All this time, and we’ve been idiots.”

He grins back at her. “To think that you’ve been the one grilling me about keeping my identity secret, yet you’re the one who gave it away in the end.”

Ladybug shakes her head. “What now?”

“What now?” Adrien echoes. “Well, the girl of my dreams just confessed to me, and I haven’t given her an answer yet.” He takes a deep breath. The words are well rehearsed as Chat; less so as Adrien Agreste. It’s strangely foreign now that their situation has shifted so drastically, but he plows on. “I like you as well, but I’ve made that abundantly clear. And I like you, Marinette too. N-not just Ladybug. Both sides of you. I’m not disappointed you’re Ladybug, because now that I see it, it could only be you. And I’m so, so glad you decided to tell me today. Even if it didn’t go as you planned in the beginning.”

A thrill runs through him when he sees the way her face lifts into a smile. They look at each other, wordless but not needing words, everything unspoken already laid out between them.

“There doesn’t need to be a what now,” Adrien adds. “I’m quite content with now.”

He holds out his hand, and she takes it.

“I’m glad you’re my partner,” Ladybug says quietly, after a little bit of silence. “And I’m glad that today happened. And I’m really, really glad that it was you I dumped that yoghurt on. It's suddenly a lot less embarrassing.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She nudges his hip playfully with her own. It’s a familiar action, but this time, Adrien swears his heart melts a little bit more at it. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, kitty.”

“Well, if I’ve got it right, you like me because I’m amazing and generous and smell good, so I don’t think I’m getting ahead of myself.”

When he sneaks a glance at her, her face is red. “Shut up.”

“Or else?”

“Or else,” she echoes, then shakes her head. “I just remembered. I gotta go before my parents start panicking.”

“Are you leaving on purpose?”

“Ye— no! No, I’m not. But my maman expected me home hours ago, and they’re bound to worry. I’ll—I’ll call you when I get back, and we can even meet tonight if you want.”

Adrien smiles at her. It's endearing, these little pieces of Marinette he sees in Ladybug that he's never noticed before. The slight stumbling over her words, the way she taps her feet on the ground. “It’s fine,” he reassures, “I get it. And tonight sounds good.”

“Tonight it is,” Ladybug agrees. “Eiffel tower?”

“Yeah. S-see you.”

She gives him a quick wave, pauses, then leans in and presses a chaste kiss against his cheek. Before Adrien can speak or react, she has thrown her yo-yo towards a nearby building and swung away.

His face is warm long after the red of Ladybug’s suit disappears. Adrien doesn’t know how long he continued staring after her if it’s not for Plagg, who zips out of his shirt and smacks his cheek, hard.

“Close your mouth before I barf,” his kwami groans. “Because I’m this close to cataclysming myself.”

“Ladybug likes me back,” Adrien tells Plagg for good measure.

“I’ve heard!”

Despite his complaining, though, Plagg grants him silence as Adrien sits quietly on the rooftop. And everything is okay—everything is more than okay—because Ladybug is Marinette, Marinette is Ladybug, and Adrien has never been happier.

Notes: i tried my best ok pls accept my offering of good will :(

(this is also the least angsty reveal fic i’ve done fhsjkfdhf)

Fics masterlist

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #ladybug #chat noir #reveal fic #my writing #mlb fic #they babies #aps anniversary!!

317 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 5 years ago

Text

Of Muffins, Coffee and Other Miracles - Pt.2

Of Coffee, Brownies and-- Frack

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader Word count: 2210

Type: Two-shot, reader insert

Warnings: swearing, tons of fluff and cheeky/cute Daredevil/Matt

Summary: You’re a secretary at Landman and Zack, having an office on the same floor as the interns. You notice one of them (which you might and might not have a crush on) seems down lately, so you decide to cheer him up the only way you can come up with. You bake muffins; right after your life is saved by a cheeky vigilante.

Part 1

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

“Wild night out?” a male voice made you snap from your dozing and you straightened in your chair with a startle.

Oh shit. Oh fuck, you were so fired.

You look up to the man who addressed you, relieved it was only Foggy – one of the interns. He wouldn’t report you, right?

“Uhm… not sure I would call it wild, but… strange for sure.” Not every night you get to be kissed by a vigilante, even if only on your temple.

“It wasn’t drugs, right? Because drugs are bad,” he whispered, looking around for anyone who could hear. You smiled at him tiredly.

“I know. Not… that kind of strange. What can I do for you… Foggy, right?”

“Yes!” he confirmed cheerfully, until his smile fell. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we were introduced. You’re…” he eyed the name on your desk, repeating it dutifully.

“That’s me,” you confirmed with a nod. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh! Right. My friend, Matt, he’s interning with me here, I’m sure you saw him around. He’s… well, blind.” Oh, I did see him around. “Usually, he gets the copies of the files in braille, but today… whoever is the good soul doing it for him forgot or something and… I have no idea where to find a braille printer here and you seem to know your way around…? And you also look like you’re not gonna fire me for asking.”

You found yourself smiling in the presence of the cheerful man. “Only if you promise not to tell anyone that I was basically sleeping.”

“Deal.”

“Thanks. You have the file? I can print it. Honestly, anyone who knows where to find that printer or how to use it wouldn’t have the authority to fire you. Just send it to me and I’ll drop it in your… your…” you stuttered, unsure how to finish that sentence.

“You can say it. It’s a closet.”

“It is, isn’t it? But which one?” you played dumb, because… reasons. You shouldn’t have known where they were, you didn’t need it. Why would you? Yeah, I’m sooo subtle…

“Oh, the one down the hall.”

“Okay. Just e-mail me the file number and I’ll deliver.”

“Really? You’re amazing.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you laughed nervously. Amazing. You didn’t think – scratch that, you were sure your boss never called you that, and you were saving his life on daily basis; he wouldn’t even sign a paper unless you handed him the pen.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong…” Foggy pronounced, pointing at you. Then he seemed to realize something. “You said not many people know where to find that printer?”

You shrugged. “Not really, I guess. It’s on the fourth floor, but it’s next to impossible to go there unnoticed by people guarding printers and they are bitch to talk to, so if you ever need anything just tell me, I’ll do it for you. I’m sure your life is enough depressing in that… cubicle.”

“Hm… okay, thanks a lot!” He spun on his heels, walking out.

Weird.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Dropping off the files in the right closet, you were confronted with… your crush. You might have not realized it before, but… yeah. You were confronted by Matt Murdock himself and you were suddenly very sure you had a crush on this man. Crap.

The thing was… he was his typical self, which meant… really charming. He stood up from his desk when thanking you, learning your name, shaking your hand. He gave you one of the nicest smile you had ever seen, his grip firm, but gentle; you just stuttered when saying ‘nice to meet you’, stumbling out as quickly as possible, shaking your head over your own inability to communicate like a normal person.

One thing you noticed about Matt that day though was that he had a rather angrily looking gash next to his right eyebrow – whether he ran into a door or something else happened, you didn’t know. But you were glad you had baked the previous night, secretly leaving your backup lunch to ease the blind’s man pain.

You were stuck hungry because of that; you couldn’t make yourself regret it.

You were a hopeless case.

And a liar on top of that, because you had said it wasn’t ‘like that’ just few nights before. Perfect.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

It was raining that night, so you didn’t leave a snack for the vigilante who apparently kissed crime victim’s temples. Maybe the next night.

Or never, because he would avoid you forever, realizing that you were as far from his Lois Lane as you could be. Which was probably a good thing.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

You looked up from the screen at the sound of someone knocking. It was unusual – the door was always open, so people normally just waltzed in.

Matt freaking Murdock was standing in that open door, holding his walking cane and a cup holder in one hand, his other hand on the glassy door. You blinked in surprise at the sight. And god, he was such a sight for your sore eyes…

“Anyone in?” he asked carefully and you fought the urge to face-palm. He couldn’t see you watching him – which might be a good thing, considering you were shamelessly staring.

“Yes! Hi, Matt. What can I do for you? Someone forgot to print case files again?” you wondered when you gathered yourself.

He smiled, turning your direction, walking towards your desk.

“Uhm, no. No, I came to… say thank you.”

Did you hit your head in the shower this morning?

“Uhm. You’re welcome, it really wasn’t a big deal.“ You mentally praised yourself for so many coherent sentences. His smile only grew wider.

“Here. Uhm, I was told you were a bit tired yesterday, so I figured you might appreciate a coffee. One’s black with sugar, which should have ‘B’ on the cup, and the other one is vanilla latté with ‘V’. I had no idea which you might like.” He held out the holder for you to choose.

You had definitely hit your head. What the hell? Or rather… what the heaven?

“I… you really didn’t have to do that, Matt. That’s… thank you, but… it was just a file. Anyone would do that.”

You found the V cup, taking it hesitantly as if it could explode in your hand.

“Well, for one, that’s not true, especially here, and… it’s not just for the file,” he offered with a cute smile.

It wasn’t the smile that sent your heart racing. Well, it was, but also the thing he was implying— did he somehow figure out you were his… secret muffin-maker? Well, shit.

“I’m not sure-“

“People by the printers on the fourth floor are next to impossible to sneak by – that’s your words, not mine. Next to impossible, but not completely. That suggests you know how to do it. I imagine the bosses wouldn’t be happy finding out you’re using the printer to write notes for miserable blind interns, so sneaking under radar it is.”

You pressed your lips together, squeezing your eyes shut, cursing mentally. And out loud. “Frack.”

“So, you know. Thank you. The muffins were delicious. They did make my day much better,” Matt assured you and an unfairly warm feeling spread in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t such a disaster he found out.

“There’s no way I’m finding a way to prove you wrong, is there?” you sighed. “You should reconsider your career choices, you would make a great detective. Glad it worked. I know that muffins can’t fix all the problems of the world, but occasionally, they can save the mood.”

“Not wrong there. I... uhm… the coffee is the best thank you I’m capable of. I hope my debt is paid.”

Well. That made more sense. “You didn’t have to-“

“That came out wrong. I wanted to say thank you, to erase a potential debt, because I was…”

You tilted your head to side, waiting what brilliant end that sentence would have. For once you weren’t the one who apparently didn’t know what to say.

“I was wondering if you would want to go for a coffee sometime? Or a dinner, maybe? Not as a thank you.”

Throw the incapability to speak up back on me, why don’t you. You blinked in utter shock, your knees buckling a little. Come again? “Not… not as thank you. You’re… you’re sure of that?”

“Hundred percent positive.”

You were certain you heard wrong. Which was easily possible given how loud your pulse was in your ears.

“Oh. Uhm… yeah. Okay. Sure. Just… just to be clear, since it’s not a thank you-“

“It’s a date. If you want it to be,” he added quickly, his confidence slightly shaken.

“If I want it to be…” you muttered under your breath incredulously. “Is the sky blue?”

“You tell me, it’s been a while since I’ve seen it last time,” he replied, grinning. He was so not supposed to hear that. Dammit.

“Oh my—… yeah, last time I checked it was still blue.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” He shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out a phone, holding in out for you. “Would you enter your number in it, please? First name’s enough. I’ll call you.”

You finally set your cup down and took the phone from his hand, still not quite believing this was happening. Your fingers brushed his lightly when doing so, nearly sending you into a cardiac arrest. Jesus.

“Sure. You don’t have a distaste for black coffee right? Because I can totally switch the cups, I haven’t even sipped mine yet,” you mumbled as you were entering your number.

He laughed. “I like black coffee.”

“Noted. And number saved.”

You returned the phone to his extended hand. “Thanks. Dinner or coffee? I would offer a lunch, but the muffins appeared during lunch-breaks, which suggests you’re not leaving the office.”

“Detective, seriously. Dinner?” you asked, unsure.

“Dinner it is.”

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Dinner it was. And an amazing one. Matt picked the restaurant wisely – nice, but not too expensive, because neither of you were exactly rich (not that it mattered, because Matt was a gentleman who wouldn’t let the woman pay for the food, definitely not on the first date) and that way you could have a dessert without remorse; financial one anyway.

Matt saying that your muffins were better after eating a chocolate brownie was just the icing on the cake of how… sweet he was. He was even more wonderful than you had thought, but despite becoming a lawyer and working between the sharks, he was a down-to-earth person. Not playing any… leagues. And you had fun. His sense of humour was refreshing and he was apparently more than capable of smiling and laughing as cheerfully as his friend. He was a freaking sunshine and you found yourself drawn to the warmth and light like to a magnet.

He walked you home, looking almost disappointed that the night was ending, which was a sentiment you shared wholeheartedly.

“If I wasn’t so full, I would invite you upstairs. I have muffins,” you whispered as his hand travelled up your arm, wavering in the crook of your neck and he leaned closer to you.

The corners of his lips rose a little higher at your note and you were honestly regretting he was still wearing his dark red-tinged glasses. You would like to see his eyes to complete the picture.

“Well, I would say I’m sorry, but I’m actually glad. I�� I really enjoyed tonight. I wouldn’t want to screw up.”

You could tell he hesitated, his thumb caressing your neck in silent question. You leaned in as well. ”I can’t really imagine you screwing it up, Matt, no matter what you would do. Unless you‘d wake me up now.”

“Is that a permission?” he breathed out an inch from your lips.

“It’s a plea.”

He met your lips softly, retreating too soon.

“Please, don’t wake me up,” you mumbled, not sure you wanted him to hear it.

“This is a goodnight kiss,” he reassured you lowly, kissing you again, caressing your lower lip and making your knees unfairly weak. “We’ll work our way up to a good morning one. If you’d like.”

You brought your hand to the back of his neck, keeping him close just in case he was getting any ideas and you returned the kiss, nibbling on his lips just a little. He let out a content sigh, his fingers tangling in your hair, his body shifting closer to yours.

“Probably sooner than later,” he mumbled against your mouth, making you smile and hum in agreement. You added ‘excellent kisser’ to the mental list you were making about him. Hot. Sweet. Gentle. Funny. Smart. Ray of sunshine. Gorgeous smile. Likes black coffee and my muffins. Never should stop kissing me.

He met your lips for the last time, withdrawing with a smile, his thumb running over your jaw.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, licking your lips to savour the taste of his own.

He pecked your temple lightly, wishing you the same.

‘Familiar,’ you added to your mental list and your heart, fluttering until the moment, started hammering in your chest wildly. Familiar voice, familiar smile, familiar gestures-

No, no, no, no, no. That was ridiculous. You were projecting again, you were-

“Clark?” you chocked out, perfectly aware of how stupid it was, expecting Matt to shoot you a puzzled look and ask you about your possible ex or something.

Except Matt did no such thing. Instead, he froze and said just one word that meant you were somehow, in some impossible way, right.

“Frack.”

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Matt Murdock Masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

It’s silly and I’m grinning when writing it and posting it and I’m most definitely sure that this cliff-hanger is the end and it’s all up to you to wonder what happened next ;)

Thank you for reading :-*

#marvel #fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil imagine #mcu #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock #of muffins coffee and other miracles #anika ann

841 notes · View notes

dibberdipper · 5 years ago

Text

Cheap frat party beer

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Drinking, suggestive themes, language

Word count: About 1,500

Summary: Pining was never Poppy’s style. No matter how much she’s going against her gut feeling, she just might not regret going to this boring party.

Author’s note: I tried to fix as many grammar mistakes as I could, I am so sorry if you found a few. Thank you so much for the comments of support on my last post, this is my first official fic on here so I really hope everyone enjoys!

Her name was Poppy Min-Sinclair. She needed no introduction, she knew it was pure luck and privilege that led her to the top of the Belvoir food chain. She had everything, from the perfect grades, the perfect ranking, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect boyfriend, she could go on.

But for some reason ever since that new girl stepped foot in her life, she was left wanting something more. Bea Hughes came along and took over her entire life in an instant. It frustrated Poppy to no end. How could a girl rise the ranks so quickly in mere days? How did she already gain the attention of the whole school?

More importantly, the question she was the most startled by was why she was so infatuated. She had never felt this helpless over someone since private school. It felt like every encounter was a ticking time bomb until she finally gave in and forgot about who she was. She could be absolutely anybody she wanted, yet she wanted nothing more than to be the Belvoire’s newest fascinations girlfriend.

Instead of paying attention in class, or actually paying attention to the daily mindless gossip, she found herself reliving memories made days prior. The intrigue when she first met her, the pure rage and what almost felt like fun when Bea pretty much threw her in the jello pool, and the embarrassment that was her take down.

“What, are you obsessed with me?”

Just thinking about that moment sent her butterflies in her stomach fluttering, she’s never felt that familiar warm sensation on her cheeks at least since elementary school.

Before she could finish her daydreams, to her disappointment they just had to be interrupted.

“Poppy? Poppy!!”

She rolled her eyes.

“What am I, a dog your trying to train? Stop yelling in my damn ear.” She sneered at her friend.

Chloe huffed. “Poppy, you need to go to this weekend’s party. The last one was like, so embarrassing for you-“

Poppy sent her a warning glare, she gulped in response.

“My point is you need to show up and try to embarrass her back.”

Though deep down, she felt a rush of excitement for what could possibly go down, silently regretting her relationship status, but she could never let her thoughts be known.

She gave her right hand woman a sly smile. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll give them a show.”

Over the weekend

“Oh, um, babe I didn’t expect to see you here after the last one.” He scratched the back of his neck, waiting for her response.

Poppy’s attention wasn’t on her boyfriend, but on the girl at the other side of the room. Bea took a moment to notice her, and gave her a sly smirk when she did. Poppy gave her a cold look over her shoulder to keep her facade of disgust up. After a tense moment, Carter nudged her shoulder.

“Babe?”

Poppy finally came up with a response after not paying attention to him, her eyes still glued on Bea’s.

“Well, I had to show somebody I’m not willing to give up my spot so easily. I have to show everyone at this party that I’m Poppy Min-Sinclair and not just ‘Bitch that was yeeted into jello’-“ Before she finished her rant, she tore her eyes away from Bea for a moment to glance at Carter. It was evident Bea hadn’t caught only her attention.

Time seemed to freeze as she felt a plan spin in her head. She was no stranger to orchestrating these evil ideas, otherwise she wouldn’t be ranked number one. She took in her surroundings; Carter’s wandering eyes, the cooler behind them that was filled to the brim with cheap canned beer, and the inviting stare from the girl across the room. She took a deep breath, no matter how many times she’s concocted these ideas, they didn’t make her feel anymore secure.

“Fuck it.” She reached behind her, opened the cooler, and chugged the bitter taste as fast as she could.

Thinking she was only trying to prove herself ‘cool’ Carter chuckled.

“Baby, I don’t mind leaving for a bit to get you something you’ll actually like from-“

“No, you listen here!” She jabbed a finger to his chest.

“I’m not going to be humiliated and stand around while you’re eye-fucking another girl. You’re as disposable as anybody else in this damn school, and I’m not!”

She knew she was no lightweight but nobody else knew that, not even Chloe. She caught Veronica live-streaming her whole ‘meltdown’. If everything backfired, she knew she could easily hide behind the classic too much beer excuse.

She played off most of the eyes watching her, as she swayed her hips over to the only pair of eyes she cared were watching. Perhaps to everyone else it looked like a cat fight about to go down, or a thinly veiled threat. But only Bea Hughes and her partner in crime Zoey Wade knew what she really whispered.

“Go upstairs, turn left, and walk ahead until you see the last dorm on the right. Leave five minutes after me.”

Before she walked away, she was sure to send a glare to Zoey.

“Alone.”

Poppy impatiently tapped her fingers on her lap wondering if it was all a mistake. She bit her lip, questioning herself and whether everything backfire until the door slammed open.

“Poppy I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but-“

“Kiss me.” The words blurred out of her mouth without her even realizing it.

Bea’s mouth hung wide open in shock. “I… I’m sorry, excuse me, but what the fuck?”

“Do you want me to say please or what?”

Bea closed the door behind her, and took a few steps over. The room was almost completely dark, with the exception of the moonlight crawling in with the party lights. She felt Bea’s hands, that she noticed were bigger than hers, cup her face. She took in her deep dark eyes, the beautiful brown tone of her skin, and her inviting lips adorned in red lipstick. Bea drew back.

“Look your breath smells like alcohol, I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

She was turned her away, but Poppy grabbed her hands in protest.

“I may not look like it, but I swear I can handle plenty of drinks. Don’t walk away when I’m not even drunk.”

Bea met her eyes, and gave the woman in front of her with pure desperation in her eyes her signature sly smirk.

“Is Poppy Min-Sinclair, ranked number one in Belvoire, begging the small town girl to kiss her?”

Poppy swallowed any cocky remarks back, along with her pride. “She is. If you keep her waiting, she might just walk out.”

Poppy felt Bea’s warm hands on her face again, and her sultry whisper in her ear. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we…”

Bea nibbled her ear, making Poppy let out a soft moan. A sound neither of them knew she could make until that moment.

Their lips met after only a week of glaring, pettiness mixed met with almost immediate pining, and just all around sexual tension. Neither of them knew a sensation could be so intense with somebody they had only just known. They skipped the friends milestone, straight to enemies, to whatever they were now.

Bea’s hands wondered into her hair, Poppy’s hands roaming over Bea’s back. Her fingers trailing downwards, her heart beat’s pace quickened. She anticipated every moment next. Poppy felt Bea’s hands linger at the hem of her skirt, when they heard the knob turn. They pushed each other away, straightening her clothes. Poppy immediately dropped down and hid under the bed as the door opened.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been gone for a while and I wanted to be sure you didn’t need any backup.”

Bea sent a playful glance to Poppy, Poppy’s heart freezing. The rush of excitement overwhelming her, she didn’t know whether Bea would expose her right now or keep their secret act in the night a secret.

“Little miss Poppy Min-Sinclair never showed up. A shame really.”

Zoey laughed. “You really scared that girl into chickening out of talking to you.” Poppy glared at Bea, and Bea stifled a giggle.

“Anyways the guys downstairs want to play beer pong, you can go up a few ranks since Veronica’s live-streaming. You can’t miss it!”

Bea shot a sneaky look at Poppy, and looked back at Zoey.

“Ten minutes tops, ever since Poppy essentially ditched me here I’ve gotten a bit sleepy. When I’m done I’m going to sleep in here, I’m sure whoever this room belongs to won’t mind too much.”

“Sounds like a plan, ready to kick some ass Bea?”

They walked out of the eye sight for Poppy, and she heard them leave the room with one last piece of dialogue slipping out. Poppy’s heart sunk.

“Please don’t try to wake me up or anything, I have a feeling I’ll be in there for a few hours.”

Poppy slowly tiptoed to the door, closing it. She sighed and sat back on the bed. There was nothing for her to do for the next ten minutes but sit there and smell like cheap frat party beer.

Thank you for reading! Tagging: @lolimugly @origmansello @grapecaseschoices @mvalentine @greatestflirt-hero @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @coldbatfriendroad@that-one-choices-person @ariel-0318 @drethanramslay @queensayeed @kawaiibanditmoneytaco @rotten-teddy-bear @aguywiththreepairsofglasses @elijahmessenger @axiel90 @ritafarrr @erza-elcy-crimson @poshbiscuit @sarasansone98 @ghalind @that-one-choices-person @dervaux @generaldameronss @adrianadmirer @anonymous--anteater @everythingchoices

#poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #Queen B

168 notes · View notes

wafflewarriors · 5 years ago

Text

Never Fear (The Winchesters Are Here)

Catch You Later

You wanted to scream in frustration.

You and Sam had been wrapping up a wendigo case. The wendigos had been twins, so you had split off. You and Sam taking on the first one, and Dean on the other side of the park taking the second.

Shortly after ganking the first wendigo twin, Dean called Sam for backup… which apparently didn't include you, because Sam hadn’t even blinked when he abandoned you with the Impala.

It was ten miles up this stretch of road. Course, it wouldn’t take Sam very long. But you? That was at least a two-hour walk, if not three. Running would be faster, but you were wiped after being out in the blistering sun all day.

The sky was dimming, too. Even if you had ganked the wendigo, walking alone in the woods at dark was a big hunter no-no. Your pistol was useless against a wendigo, and Sam had taken the flare gun.

You could take a shortcut through the woods to get to the campground. Less than a half a mile in, and you'd be right next to tents and RV’s. Surely you could hitch a ride from that point, if not, hot-wire a car.

With that, you veered off the trail. The terrain was muddy and covered with old, dead leaves. "Stupid Winchesters," you said, kicking at the tall grass and brooding. It was like you were a freaking balloon. Appealing, but easily forgotten. Replaceable. Dispensable.

You kicked again at a tree and a rock. And when that wasn't satisfying, you kicked a patch of grass.

Excruciating. Pain.

Your vision whited out, momentarily going numb, then refocusing entirely on your leg. Your scream echoed back into your ears.

You had fallen. You wheezed, trying and failing to collect yourself before finally sitting up. Carefully, you moved your leg in front of you to look at the injury. Your teeth tore at your lip to hold back a scream when the movement jolted your leg.

It was a bear trap. The muscle and fat had cushioned most of the blow, but it had cut deep enough to let blood seep into your jeans.

You could still wiggle your toes, which was a good sign. It wasn’t like the movies; they designed bear traps to catch the leg of a bear, not cut it off. But holy hell if it didn’t feel like it had.

You need to push down on the springs. Dean's voice bounced around in your head.

"Springs…" you muttered. "Okay, okay, springs." You pressed down on each of the springs with all your might and the trap pried open. You pulled your leg out, releasing the trap altogether and letting it snap onto itself.

With your leg free, you rolled your jeans up so you could assess the damage. You had multiple stabs from where the spikes drove into your skin, and each spike had made about a centimeter long incision into your calf. You had dry blood caked along your leg, so it was hard to see how bad it really was.

Wearing layers as a hunter always came in handy. You ripped a large strip of fabric from your shirt, wrapping it around your leg wound; zipped your jacket closed; and pulled your jeans down over the wound, thankful that they were dark enough to hide the blood stain.

Now, to get help. Sam took the flares, so you pulled out your phone. You could probably call emergency numbers. Except… the Winchesters didn’t need ambulances, cops, or authorities snooping around until this Wendigo thing blew over. You would just be putting more people in danger.

You scrolled through your contacts, muscle memory bringing you to Dean's number first, since it was alphabetical.

It rang for two beats before something clicked.

"Hey, what's up?"

You fell back with relief. "Dean, hey, could you pick me up? Your stupid brother left me stranded out here."

You could almost feel the glare Dean was giving his brother in his voice. "Course, where are you?"

It would probably be smarter if you had him pick you up on the trail, rather than search for you. "Sammy knows where it is. Same stretch of road."

You could walk back. It wasn’t too far.

"Alright. Be there in a few." And then he hung up.

You wiped the stray tears from your eyes and prepared yourself. You stood with the help of a tree, teetering. Your leg was painfully tender, and your knees rocked under your weight.

It was possible to walk, sure, and it wasn't far on two good legs, but you had largely underestimated the effort you were going to need to get there.

You were going to take a helluva long nap when this was all over.

///

When you made it to the road, you took it upon yourself to sit down at a large stump. The day had faded into night, and you could hear the raccoons shrieking.

Finally, the low rumble of the Impala could be heard over the cicadas. You stood, albeit a little wobbly, and somehow walked closer to the road without limping.

Headlights washed over the ground and made long shadows. Dean's window was rolled down, and his eyes drank you in. Satisfied that you didn't look too roughed up, he motioned to the back door.

Sam had a tight smile. "Hey, I'm sorry about—"

"It's cool," you said. "Seriously. No harm done, I just wanna get back to the motel and shower." Well, yes harm done, but the shower is the escape. I just need to escape for a little while. The last thing you wanted was the Winchesters getting all freaked.

Dean looked at you a little skeptical. "Forgiven that easy? Dude, if he had done that to me I'd've punched him."

Sam scowled at his brother.

You laughed. "Yeah, well, I'm not one for grudges. I know he didn’t mean it." Or did he? Then, you went quiet.

Dean was giving you ‘the look’ in the rearview mirror, and you tried not to acknowledge it, but you could tell that he knew something was off. Did you leave blood somewhere?

"You sure you're okay? You're kinda pale," he questioned.

You wanted to retaliate, to shout, Dean, shut up, I'm literally fine. But then he would know. So you shrugged instead. "I'm cool." You stretched, careful to set your leg somewhere comfortable before resting your head on the window.

The peace didn't last long. The Impala went over a pothole, jostling your leg and you cursed out loud before you could bite your tongue.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"I'm trying to nap back here," you snapped. "You’re shakin' the whole car."

"My bad."

You rolled your eyes.

The rest of the ride went fine. Until you had to get out of the car. You swung your leg around, but when you put pressure on it, you nearly fell on your face. Fortunately, you caught yourself, gingerly shifting your weight onto your other leg.

"I knew it. I knew you were hurt," Dean growled, coming over to haul you up by the shoulder. "Why do you insist on hiding this stuff from us?"

You let him shoulder most of your weight, leaning on him. "Because you baby me!"

"We don't baby you, we make sure you're freaking okay, so we don't screw your injuries up even more. And you're not really the reliable type," Dean said, scowling.

He pulled you into the motel a little roughly. He was irate—the upturn of his lips were not a smile, rather, a sneer. Yeah, he was sick of your crap. You didn’t blame him.

He sat himself on the bed across from you, clapping his hands together. "Let’s see it."

You didn’t move. You needed to explain first. "Dean, before you—"

"No. I don’t want to hear it."

"I was—"

He said you name in a low, warning tone.

Welp. You let your shoulders drop, sulking. "You’re not gonna like it."

"I figured, when you decided not to tell me about it. Show me the damn wound, or so help me—"

"Promise you won’t yell."

"I’m not making promises I can’t keep."

That shut you up. You reached down reluctantly. Rolling up your jeans, you brought your eyes to the wall. You didn’t want to see his face. When he was silent for longer than you were comfortable with, you mumbled, "It was a bear trap."

"Yeah, I’m seeing that," he snapped.

That's when Sam walked in with the bags. His expression crumpled. He murmured your name in alarm, tossing the bags on the adjacent desk. He looked so disappointed in you. "What the hell? You said you were—"

"I was fine. Cool. Yeah, I know. I lied, okay?" you admitted uncomfortably. "You two are just a bit overwhelming sometimes. I was going to tell you—"

"When? When were you going to tell us?" Dean barked.

You knew Dean loved you and was protective, but sometimes he was so pushy. "I don’t—I was handling it, okay?"

Sam’s expressions shifted into realization. "Hold up, did you walk back to the road?"

Dean analyzed you, and did not like his findings. "She did," he announced. "She freaking—" he stood up and disappeared into the bathroom.

You sighed, pulling your head into your hands.

Sam shook his head. "The bear trap would have been in the woods, and we picked you up at the road."

"I took a brief detour, which never would have happened if you hadn’t ditched me!"

Sam snapped his mouth shut.

Dean came out of the bathroom with a med kit. "Lets see how bad this thing is." You stuck your leg out on display, wincing as you placed it on the bed.

Dean dug out the alcohol and cotton balls. Right. He had to sterilize the wound.

Not much missed Dean Winchester. He could read your body language pretty dang well. He watched as you stiffened, and his expression softened. He nodded to Sam, who moved to sit beside you on the bed.

You breathed deep, a slow panic setting in, and it hitched as Sam’s hands fell onto your shoulders. "Relax your shoulders", he said. "It’s going to sting a little, but it's nothing you can’t handle."

Winchesters. In all irony, as much as they left you in the worst freaking moments, they were also there when you needed them afterward.

Or maybe that was just you getting sentimental before Dean agitated a painful wound of yours.

You hissed as he first dabbed the cotton ball onto the lacerations. He wasn’t harsh with it, but he wasn’t gentle, either. His movements had a clinical urgency to them— quick and fluid.

You leaned into Sam’s loose embrace, which tightened a little as you settled yourself.

Dean hummed at his work. "You’re lucky. It worked deep, but it’s nothing that some stitches can’t fix. You’ll have some ugly bruising tomorrow, though."

That was some good news. You sent them a soft smile. "Thanks, guys. Really. I know I can be a bit… secretive. Sorry for that."

"We just want you to open up a little more. That’s all we’re asking."

You huffed a little laugh, then squirmed as Dean drove the needle in for the first stitch. "I wonder who I learned it from."

Dean drove in the next stitch a little harder.

"Hey! Ow! Okay, okay. I'll… open up."

"Good."

46 notes · View notes

quicksilversquared · 5 years ago

Text

The Wavering Peahen: Chapter 1

When Nathalie started feeling oddly ill again, both she and Gabriel were worried that the Peacock Miraculous might somehow (impossibly) be to blame again.

So naturally, they pick someone else to be the Peacock for a bit. You know, as a test subject. Except the new Peacock... doesn't exactly know that.

links in the reblog

Ever since Miracle Queen's akumatization, Gabriel Agreste had been feeling pretty optimistic about his now-improved chances of defeating the superheroes. While he had lost the box of Miraculous because of his poorly-thought-through gamble with Miracle Queen, he had made other gains.

He knew who Ladybug's backup teammates had been, and could use that against them should they show up again. He had gotten the digital copy of the Grimoire, which was- well, maybe it was only partially translated, and some things still seemed to be in code, but it had some pretty interesting information in it, like what powers the other Miraculous- the ones that he hadn't seen in action yet- had. And best of all, because of the Grimoire, he had gotten the Peacock Miraculous fixed and now Nathalie could join him on a much more regular basis without putting her own health at risk. He had figured that that should be enough for them to secure a victory within a week, or at most a month, if things went really badly.

It had been five months and the superheroes weren't giving any ground, standing solid as they fought akumas and sentimonsters alike. It. Was. Infuriating. And for a man like Gabriel, who wasn't particularly patient to start with...

Well, some days it felt like anything could set him off. They should have won by now, darn it. They were two adults up against two kids. Getting their Miraculous should have been like taking candy from a baby... and yet it wasn't.

Across the room, Nathalie coughed, pulling his attention away from the grimoire and the hints for the potion ingredients that still seemed to be listed in some sort of ridiculous code. Gabriel glanced over at her, and Nathalie gave him an apologetic grimace before returning to her work.

She had had this dratted cold for at least two months now, and no, it wasn't just him exaggerating out of annoyance. It had started small- just a small cough here and there and the occasional sneeze, or the need for her to finish a day early because she wasn't feeling well- and gotten gradually worse. He had hoped that she might have recovered at least a bit over the weekend, but instead she had come to work looking substantially worse than before.

While he had tolerated her coughing before- after all, she was helping him out with his mission and previously getting sick because of it- coughing from a common cold was simply annoying. It was grating and disruptive and kept pulling him out of his concentration. He hadn't said anything about it yet, of course- it was not, after all, Nathalie's fault, she didn't want to be sick- but it was annoying nonetheless.

Gabriel reached across the desk for his phone and ordered a large ginger-honey tea and a bag of cough drops for Nathalie. Maybe that would help quell her coughing.

Now, back to the grimoire... what on earth could they mean by tears of joy...?

Seven minutes later, the tea and cough drops arrived and were promptly delivered to Nathalie's desk. She murmured a quiet thank you. The chef nodded, then retreated from the room at once. As soon as the office door swung shut behind him, Gabriel could feel Nathalie's gaze slide to him.

"I take it you're annoyed by my coughing, sir?"

"It is a bit disruptive, you have to admit," Gabriel told her, finally deciding to put a flag on the potion ingredients section (really, he could only puzzle out about half of them, it was ridiculous and Nooroo apparently had no idea what the infernal clues were referring to either) and move on. He was severely behind on his design work, so perhaps he would do that for a while. "So I came up with a potential solution for it. Is that a problem?"

"No." Nathalie considered her tea, then took a small sip and made a face. "Though I might have preferred to order my own tea. This one...is not a favorite of mine."

"It is what many people recommend online for a sore throat. I thought it would be best, considering how long this cough seems to be lingering."

Nathalie opened her mouth like she was going to comment on that, then clearly decided against it. A moment later, she smothered a yawn. "I suppose that makes sense."

Gabriel frowned. "Is your cold still not getting any better? It's been months."

"Not particularly. I haven't been congested, which is a relief. But-" She yawned widely again, then frowned. "And I've been sleeping fine! I don't know what the issue is."

"Well, maybe you should finish what you're doing and then take off for the day," Gabriel suggested, both because he was tired of the coughing and, well, if Nathalie was feeling poorly and coughing that much, then the smart thing for her to do would be to go home and not infect the rest of the house. If that was even possible, considering how long she had been feeling under the weather. "Get some rest, and come back when you're feeling better."

"And if there's an akuma attack?" Nathalie asked, straightening and frowning at him. "I don't want to be the reason you miss out on winning, simply because there wasn't a sentimonster there to assist."

"If you're awake and able to take a break to help from home, then that would be much appreciated," Gabriel decided after a moment's consideration. "Thank you."

"Of course, sir." Nathalie glanced back at her screen, did a few quick clicks, and then downed her entire cup of tea in one go. "I've come to a decent stopping point. Anything else can be finished at home."

"You're meant to be resting," Gabriel reminded her. "The work can wait. And the company does have plenty of secretaries, we can always assign some of your work to them. Actually- yes, if you're feeling up to it, it would be nice to get a list of what can be done by others. Then I can reassign those things right away and get them checked off before we get too far behind."

"I'll have an initial list done by the evening." Nathalie did a couple more clicks, then shut her computer and started gathering up her things. "Text me if you're going to akumatize someone, and what their powers are going to be. Then I can come up with a complimentary sentimonster. I can set up an alert on my phone so I won't miss it."

"Thank you." Gabriel watched as Nathalie packed up her computer, then rose to open the door for her. "Keep me updated on how you're feeling, okay? And don't push yourself too hard to come back early. You do better work when you're not ill."

"Of course." Nathalie nodded to him, then headed out the door. Gabriel watched her go for a moment, then turned and headed back to his work.

Maybe he really should spend the rest of the day focusing on his designing. After all, if Nathalie was sick, it was probably only a matter of time before he got ill as well. And Gabriel no longer designed when he was unwell, for- well, for a multitude of reasons.

(He had only just managed to get fully out from the shadow of the infamous Cold Medicine Dress of '02 recently. Misstepping and having a repeat of that particular incident would not reflect well on the company.)

Actually, now that he was thinking about it, it was better to be safe than sorry. Reaching for his phone again, Gabriel ordered an array of multivitamins for himself, plus a bottle of hand sanitizer for his desk. He also requested that the maid to come in early and wipe down Nathalie's work area, just in case.

Some might call it overkill. Gabriel was simply of the opinion that it was better to be proactive than reactive.

Five days later, and Nathalie was still feeling under the weather. She had even fainted later in the week, she admitted to Gabriel when he called to check in on her. And she swore that she had been resting properly and getting plenty of sleep.

"It's been really odd," she told him two days later, after dropping into the mansion to collect a few more things to work on from home. "I've not been congested or had a runny nose at all, and that- that's a hallmark of cold and flus, right? And there's not been a fever at all." She frowned, clearly reluctant to continue, but she forged on anyway. "It almost feels like- like a slow onset of- no, that can't be it. It's impossible, I shouldn't even think about it."

Gabriel frowned for a moment, about to snap at her to just spit it out, and then it hit him like a train. Tiredness, weakness, fainting, feeling sick but not congested or snotty at all- those were all things that they had seen before.

Like a slow onset of using the Peacock when it was broken.

He wouldn't want to say that out loud, either. That sort of possibility...

But he had fixed it!

"Nathalie, do you think..." Gabriel started, then trailed off, entirely unsure of what he wanted to say. The Peacock causing the problems should have been an impossibility, but- well, how were they meant to test that? Because they had to test it, before Nathalie got any sicker. "Perhaps we should hold off on any further involvement from the Peacock for the time being, and return the brooch to the safe? Just in case."

"But Ladybug and Chat Noir!" Nathalie protested. "And this could be a cold, but there was just some damage still from using the Peacock before and it's gotten snarled up in the cold? Or maybe it's just lingering effects that are rearing their head. Because you fixed the Peacock, it should be perfectly safe to use."

"I know, but we should test it." Gabriel didn't like the idea, either, considering that it meant no sentimonsters assisting him. He would double-wield, but Nooroo had told him that it wasn't the best idea. Besides, if something had gone wrong in the fixing, he didn't exactly want to risk his own health. Particularly if he was going to be going out to assist his akumas to try to tip the scales in his favor. "I wonder if a couple weeks without using the Peacock would be enough for us to draw a conclusion about if that's at the root of the problem, or if we might need longer."

Nathalie was frowning. "But sir, if we just go back to akuma-only attacks- right now, we still have the advantage. Ladybug and Chat Noir haven't managed to fully rebuild and retrain a backup team yet because we've kept up the pressure on them. If we let up on the pressure, that could let them catch back up. We have to keep up on the attacks."

"And I'll do that, with the akumas." Gabriel's mind was made up now. He couldn't risk having Nathalie getting sicker. Besides, what if it was something more serious, like- well, perhaps like cancer? He wasn't sure what signs of cancer were, really, but those kinds of symptoms seemed like the sort of thing that cancer would maybe cause. At this point, he honestly wasn't sure what was the worse option, cancer or the Peacock somehow malfunctioning again. "And I want you to go to the doctor and get tests run. We want to come at this from all angles. Maybe it is just a cold, but we want to be sure."

"I can have the tests run without giving up the Miraculous," Nathalie protested. "Wouldn't it make sense to at least check and see if there's something else going on before we jump the gun and take the Peacock off of the battlefield? And what if it's just a cold and I coincidentally get better after I'm not wearing it? There's no real way to test anything."

That was fair enough, Gabriel supposed. He tapped his lips, considering.

They could, of course, just go off of whether or not Nathalie got sick again once she resumed using the Peacock- assuming, of course, that her health improved after she took it off. But that would be putting her at risk again, and he didn't particularly want to do that. If they had another ally, they could always have that person use the Peacock while Nathalie recovered. If it made them ill, then he would simply have to lock it away, or attempt to do another fix on it.

Except- oh. He had almost forgotten, but technically they did have another person on their side! She wouldn't be his first choice in most circumstances, but the number of people who would actually go along with Hawkmoth's plans was limited and he couldn't be too picky.

"We can have our other ally test it," Gabriel announced grandly, quite pleased with himself for coming up with the plan. "Then I'll continue to have a Peacock by my side, and if they get sick, too, we'll know what the problem is."

Nathalie frowned, puzzled. "Another ally? Who? The Gorilla?"

"No, no, of course not!" Gabriel snapped, somewhat exasperated that she hadn't immediately caught on. Adrien's bodyguard was loyal to the family, sure, but not that loyal. He'd turn them into the authorities in a second if he found out about Gabriel and Nathalie being the city's supervillains. "Are you crazy? He would never support this. Think harder- the only person besides us who has willingly been akumatized!"

Nathalie only had to think for a moment, and then her eyes went wide. "Lila Rossi? But sir, isn't she, ah..." She tilted her head to the side, considering how to word her concerns. Gabriel chuckled.

"Spiteful? Petty? Childish? Perhaps. But she's also hell-bent on revenge against Ladybug at the moment, has no moral compass, and is very easy to manipulate. She wouldn't think twice about taking on a Miraculous and using it regularly." Gabriel was liking the idea more and more, really. If Lila got sick, it was really no skin off of his nose. Her use to him in her civilian form was starting to wear thin, and she was regularly gumming up the works in the photoshoots that she took part in. Her no longer being allowed to model due to health reasons would be a bonus, not a concern. "I would know who she is, she wouldn't know who I am, and if she tries to step out of line, I know who her mom is." He had an entire file folder on Mrs. Rossi and her ex-husband, plus some information on Lila's extended family. If she tried to take the Miraculous and run... well, he knew exactly where to look. "A few well-placed threats, and she would fall right back in line. She could take over the Peacock's duties for a month or two to give us the chance to figure out if your health has anything to do with the Miraculous."

"It seems risky," Nathalie commented after a moment. "I mean, I don't doubt that you'd be able to control her, at least in the long term. But what if she goes out and joins the fight? She's ruled by her emotions, it seems, and she might not think through the possible consequences." She snorted. "Actually, never mind might- she won't think through the consequences. Add in the fact that she'll only be able to be out for five minutes after she creates a sentimonster..."

"It's not ideal," Gabriel acknowledged. "But your health is important. This will allow us to ensure that the Peacock is safe to use going forward, while still providing me with some degree of backup."

Nathalie sighed, then very quickly slid into a nearby chair before she could collapse after her legs wobbled. "I suppose. I want to say that I'm just being paranoid, but this is just a little too similar for my comfort."

"It is. It's not just you." Gabriel tapped his fingers against his leg, trying to consider everything. He would bring the Miraculous over that evening, once dark had fallen. "Anything else to consider? You've dealt with Ms. Rossi more than I have."

"Just that she thinks that she's a master manipulator and will probably think that she's capable of tricking you," Nathalie warned after a minute's consideration. "Every time I talk with her, she has this look on her face that just screams that she thinks we're dancing to her tune. Something like that could be a liability. She could think that she can get away with more, unless you're very clear with her about how she doesn't fool you one bit from the start."

"True." Her delusions had to be very thoroughly stomped out. Perhaps he should record their entire interaction when he gave her the Peacock, just for blackmail purposes. One foot out of line, and he could get her in quite a lot of trouble. Working with a supervillain would not be taken lightly. "I'll do that. And if she decides to act out and cross Hawkmoth... well, she'll regret it."

Just like he had suspected, Lila had been all too willing to take over the Peacock duties. He hadn't told her why, other than Mayura was temporarily unavailable and unable to fight, but that wasn't information that she had to have. Perhaps she would have accepted despite the potential risks- Lila seemed hotheaded enough for that to be a very real possibility- but he wasn't willing to risk her turning him down.

Gabriel smiled to himself as he tucked away a copy of the recording of his visit to Lila away in a safe spot. He had her right where he wanted her, and if his read on her emotions was anything to go off of- which it was, his magic emotion detector was very reliable- then she wouldn't be acting out or attempting to double-cross him. Lila had promised to make it to every akuma battle that she could- she was very interested in seeing Ladybug's downfall, after all- and to exercise some common sense about what she could and couldn't handle, since Hawkmoth would be very displeased with her if she lost the Peacock... and besides, being unmasked as a supervillain in that way wouldn't go well for her, either. Being defeated and unmasked as an akuma didn't ever get anyone in trouble, but if she had had a Miraculous...

Lila had turned sheet-white at that thought. Clearly even she wasn't cocky enough to think that she would be able to get away with something like that.

All in all, it had gone pretty well, Gabriel thought. Soon enough, they should know if using the Peacock was still a problem, or if Nathalie could reclaim it. If it went well, and if they ever managed to get their hands on another Miraculous- one of the ones that the superheroes always pulled out as their backups- then they would have a third team member trained and waiting in the wings.

He truly hoped that it would go well. If it went really, really poorly... well, he might just end up regretting this whole thing.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #The Wavering Peahen #new story new story

71 notes · View notes

aethersea · 5 years ago

Note

fake married + poorly timed confession + the leverage ot3? or any component ship, i'm not picky xD

as it happens, I was already planning on writing a fake married fic for the ot3! so this is more fic than fic description, though I couldn’t really convince myself that any of these three would full-on confess in the middle of a con which is, of course, the most poorly timed you can get. but here you go and please enjoy, mind the cut!

for this ask meme, which is still open

Parker and Eliot crash a senator’s garden party, posing as a married couple so they can be each other’s cover while each one sneaks off in turn. When Eliot needs to take a quiet moment to get rid of the guards on the roof, he excuses himself from the conversation in the parlor with a grin and a, “Better go make sure the little lady’s not having too much fun without me!” This wins a round of chuckles, and Eliot rolls his eyes as he turns away.

Parker, a few seconds later and out in the garden, just blurts out, “I’m going to look for my husband,” and clomps off.Sophie, keeping the senator busy at the buffet table, turns her eyes to the heavens in supplication.

Eliot meets Nate on the roof once the guards are dealt with, and leads him down to the senator’s bedroom so he can lie in wait and be all spooky when Sophie sends the senator up to look for his watch. Parker, meanwhile, is raiding the senator’s office safe for something Nate can blackmail him with. It’s a tightly timed con, but Eliot has a good four minutes to get himself back to the garden before the house guards notice that something’s gone wrong on the roof.

Or so he thought—they must have better failsafes in place than they’d realized, because Parker almost gets caught on her way back from cracking the senator’s office safe. Eliot, who’s half a corridor away and only just done getting his shirt and hair back in order, huffs in exasperation and rushes to intercept the guards about to reach her.

He rushes fast enough that he reaches her first, and instead of letting him barrel past her, Parker grabs him and swings him up against the nearest wall.

When the guards turn the corner, they find the two of them passionately making out. Parker pulls away from Eliot and says, with a drunken giggle, “You boys here to join the fun? Careful, my man here’s mighty possessive.” She lays her head on Eliot’s shoulder, and he takes the hint and glares the guards away.

- - - - - - -

Eliot does not talk to Hardison about this. The absence of that talk is a palpable weight in the van as they drive away from the senator’s house. Nate and Sophie can feel it too, he knows, from Nate’s wince and Sophie’s brief but sympathetic smile. It’s not like Hardison and Parker are—It’s not that they don’t—Well they are, actually, but—

Eliot takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose. Hardison and Parker are dating, and even before that Parker had really only ever kissed Hardison on cons, but Hardison isn’t possessive, no matter the spike of horror that flashed through Eliot at Parker’s words to the guards. He has to know that Eliot would never try anything with Parker, would never hurt either of them like that. It’s fine. It’s going to be fine.

Still, he’s deeply relieved when Nate says that their next angle of attack is going to involve Hardison and Parker handling the real estate agency, just the two of them, while Eliot provides backup for Sophie almost all the way across town.

- - - - - - -

That relief means that Eliot is not even remotely braced for it when, at the last minute, the plan changes.

It turns out that the mobster’s cousin runs the real estate agency. This explains why the agency’s involved in the first place, but not how, so they still need to get Hardison in there to do his magic on their servers. “Alright,” Nate says, “Eliot, you’re switching with Parker. The mob might be hiding the drugs at the agency, so keep an eye out for guards.”

Hardison groans. “Come on, Nate, I already booked the appointment for Mr. and Mrs. Dallanby! Newlyweds, they just got back from their honeymoon in Kenya, I—I set up the facebook pictures, man—”

“We’ll just have to hope they didn’t do a background check,” Nate says, and Hardison grumbles but Eliot hears keys clicking on the line as he switches the personas around. “If they did, you’ll just pull a Bogota Chop Shop on them.”

So Eliot has to gun it across town to meet Hardison in front of the realtors’. (Parker, making the same trip in reverse, reaches Sophie a full five minutes earlier, because she is a maniac who should never be allowed behind a wheel.)

Eliot and Hardison still have not talked. Eliot tries not to think about that as he pulls into the agency parking lot and Hardison hops out of Lucille to join him. Somehow he is still trying not to think about it when Hardison takes his hand, pulls him through the front door, and introduces them as “Mr. and Mr. Dallanby, oh were you expecting a Mrs. Dallanby? Of course you were, of course, why do I even—I guess we should go somewhere else, hmm, what do you think about that? Come on honey, we’re leaving! I’m so sick of—”

Eliot finally pushes past the weird anxiety that won’t let go of his brain and manages to say something empty and reassuring, and then the receptionist is nervously insisting it was just a typo in the system and offering them coffee while they wait, and Hardison grumpily allows himself to be pulled away toward the waiting room couch.

He doesn’t drop the act there, though. He leans against Eliot and—and snuggles up against him, and somehow Eliot’s arm is around Hardison’s shoulder, and something inside him panics and tries to pull away but Hardison grabs his hand and yanks it down and hisses, “Look the goddamn part!” and there’s nothing Eliot can do but sit there and take it.

They still haven’t talked. Eliot can feel the tension in Hardison’s shoulders. He swallows hard and tries not to think about it.

- - - - - - -

No one at the restaurant opening should recognize him, but Eliot keeps out of the serving area anyway. It’s not hard—whenever the owner comes out and says someone wants to meet the chef, he just snarls that he’s too busy and ignores the woman until she goes away. It’s a lie—he’s only had three days with this kitchen team but he must grudgingly admit that they’re on top of things. Eliot keeps an eye on it all anyway, making sure the prawns don’t overcook and the beef doesn’t boil, with only half an ear for the drama happening in the serving area.

Hardison and Parker are building up to a fight. Eliot does his best to tune out Parker’s insults, Hardison’s anger, and Sophie’s careful coaching on when to escalate and when to wait. He’s not on until later, when the senator shows up; for now his biggest concern is fixing the garnish on these flounder fillets. Something’s still not quite right––maybe some shallots…

The argument in his ear crescendoes and crests. Hardison storms off in a rage. Parker fakes a few weirdly convincing sobs. For such a wooden grifter, she’s surprisingly good at pretending to cry. It’s barely a minute before the divorce attorney sitting behind Parker turns around to offer his services. Eliot can practically hear Sophie’s smug smile.

Hardison goes back to Lucille, or so Eliot thought. When he admits to himself that he’s micromanaging the kitchen more than he needs to be and retreats to the pantry, ostensibly to fetch some carrots but really to cool down, he finds Hardison leaning against the door, fiddling with his phone and munching on an apple.

Eliot almost snatches it out of his hand. “Don’t take those,” he snarls. “They’re for the chicken waldorf, not for you.”

Hardison shrugs, that slow grin of his spreading across his face. “I’m a thief. What do you expect?”

Eliot rolls his eyes and shoves past him to get the carrots. When he turns around, Hardison is framed in the doorway, blocking his way out. Before Eliot can snap at him, he says, “Hey man, are you okay?”

Eliot raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. This is a long con, but not a difficult one. And he got to punch out three of the senator’s security staff just a few days ago. He’s fine.

“You’ve been kinda off these past few days. And you disappear the moment we break for the day.” Hardison doesn’t shrug or quirk a smile to take the edge off his words, like most people would. He looks steadily at Eliot, eyes gentle, and keeps his voice soft and calm. “You know we’re here for you, right? If you’re having trouble with something, or if you just want to talk, we’re here. You’re not alone anymore.

“Our mikes are off,” he adds belatedly, gesturing with his phone. “Just us here.”

It’s a special kind of courage, being entirely sincere with someone, opening yourself to the possibility of whatever they might throw at you. Hardison screams when Parker drops him off of even two-storey buildings and panics at the first threat of violence, but in his own way he’s braver than the rest of them put together. It’s admirable. It’s terrifying. Eliot glares, feeling his fingers clench around the carrot leaves, and knows that there is nothing he can do to intimidate Hardison even a little bit.

It’s not out of fear, then, that Hardison lowers his gaze and steps aside so he’s no longer blocking the only exit. It’s a concession, freely given.

Eliot has a brief, violent internal argument.

He can still hear Parker keeping the lawyer busy and Sophie advising her on how much to flirt, but after all these years of practice it’s easy enough to tune it all out and just listen for his name. He takes a deep breath, and then another.

“You and Parker are good together,” he says. Hardison’s eyes flick up, surprised but almost managing to hide it. “And I’m—I’m so happy for you both.” He doesn’t notice the way he ducks his chin a fraction until after he’s done it, bracing for a punch he knows won’t come. “And you know that I don’t—that I would never—Look, she’s your girlfriend, I’m not ever going to…to even try to…”

This whole being brave thing isn’t working out too well. Hardison is watching him with patient incomprehension. Eliot squares his shoulders and opens his mouth to do this right, but before he can, someone in the hallway cries out, “Girlfriend?!”

Hardison jumps. Eliot lunges forward to grab him and shove him into the pantry, so Eliot is between him and whoever this is, but it’s too late, there’s a hand reaching out and shoving Hardison’s chest, pushing him away from the door—

The hand is followed by an angry waitress—Jenna? Jamie?—who is utterly and bafflingly furious. “You asshole!” she yells over Hardison’s confused spluttering, “I hope she does divorce you!”

Eliot puts out an arm to block Jemima’s rampage, and she turns her look of absolute disgust on him. “Chef, were you aware this jackass is married?”

“Eliot!” Nate says in his ear, at the literal worst possible moment. “You’ve got incoming!”

“Married!” Joanna screeches in Hardison’s face. She’s not quite straining against Eliot’s arm, but she’s conveying through body language and intonation that she’s about three seconds away from violence. “And you have a girlfriend!”

Hardison’s face is absolutely priceless. At a better moment, Eliot would stop to appreciate it, but right now there are three mobsters rounding the corner just a couple feet behind Hardison, and they recognize Eliot from the real estate agency. “Mr. Dallanby?” one of them says, sincerely confused.

Hardison jumps again and glances over his shoulder. “Mr. Dallanby?” another mobster says.

The third one gasps. “You have a girlfriend?”

“He does!” Jen crows. “He’s a goddamn cheater!”

“Oh that’s messed up,” the first mobster says. The other two mutter their agreement. They step forward until they’re looming menacingly behind Hardison. The second mobster turns to Eliot and says kindly, “Are you okay, Mr. Dallanby?”

Hardison is stiff as a board, his eyes wide in a silent plea for Eliot to do something. Eliot, absolutely nonplussed, opens his mouth and closes it several times before he manages, “I’m fine, thanks. It’s—we’re working it out.”

There’s an unintelligible commotion in his ear and Jackie is starting to realize that something’s up. Eliot wonders desperately if this is a nightmare. The first mobster, who seems to be in charge, steps forward and offers, “If you need a hand, son, or if you need a moment to process this—”

“That’s okay,” Eliot says hurriedly. He’s trying to parse the jumble in his ear, and it’s not working but he’s pretty sure the main concern is that he and Hardison have gone off comms and not gone back on again. “I’m—we’re good.” He steps forward and grabs Hardison’s hand, pulling him away from the mobsters.

This, unfortunately, puts him right next to Janice, who declares in strident tones, “Oh no you are not! You have a wife back there, asshole, you can’t just cheat on her and expect—“

At that precise moment, the senator walks around the corner behind the mobsters. “I thought we were supposed to meet in the—Ted Dalton? What are you doing here?” Because of course, they had to be conning the one senator in all of Congress who actually learns the names and faces of every guest at his garden parties, well enough to recognize Eliot three entire days later and dressed as a chef.

The mobsters frown. “Wife?”

Parker, skidding around the corner behind Eliot with an audible squeak of tennis shoes on linoleum, says quietly, “Oh shit.”

#finx writes #leverage #leverage fic #leverage ot3 #I'm planning on cleaning this up and putting it on ao3 #but if I am lazy I may just put it up as is #I do rather like how it came out

161 notes · View notes

seimeinotaka · 5 years ago

Text

Elusive kindness (Vil x MC)

(Cross-posted from AO3)

One of the worst days in Vil's recent life, Epel and Deuce had just ran away and left him having to face a possible logistics nightmare. To make matters worse (better), someone (that absolutely obnoxious manager) had to disagree on why he had simply shown Epel the true power of beauty.

Thanks to polyphenols@AO3 for beta-reading this!

Things had honestly worked out in the most obnoxious yet mysterious of ways.

When Epel had run away, merely two weeks before the VDC, Vil needed to apply all the breathing techniques he knew because otherwise he would explode. Two weeks was so little time to do anything; finding a replacement and properly training them would be impossible to achieve in such a short window. The other option, changing the choreography to fit one person less AND upgrading one of the backup vocals to take over Epel’s parts seemed easier in theory. Keywords, in theory.

This would put everything in jeopardy because he would have to select someone and they would have to almost start from zero. With a clear role assigned to each member, the replacement would be at risk of mixing up their original lines and steps with Epel’s, not to mention the others would have to consider the new spatial reorganization.

The perfect symmetry he had arranged everyone to, the distribution of the main vocals and the backup ones, how everyone was in the perfect spot, everything would be ruined.

Then Freshman Potato No.2 had to follow Epel and disappear, further complicating everything.

Five was too small of a number of singers to properly portray the song AND the dance. Two main vocals and three backups complicated dancing distribution. Three main vocals and two backups caused the backups to fade against the three main singers.

Everything he did had been logical and organized for a reason, meticulously taking care of the smallest detail. His hard work would be ruined for a pair of children who were just throwing a tantrum. He was so desperate that he even considered for the briefest moment if Ann could somehow take in a spot.

Actually, she wasn’t bad looking, she was following the same regimen as everyone else so her skin was clear and pretty. With extremely short hair, she might pull it off. The problem was that Ann was a girl, and her singing voice would disrupt the harmony between the original members. No matter if she was a main or backup vocal, her voice would unfortunately stand out, and not in the way Vil needed.

So he quickly discarded the idea, even if he had spent quite a lot of time staring at her when she had arrived to check up on him, to the point she noticed him scrutinizing her. But no, he wouldn’t get a break, as the same troublemakers came back, and not with good news. If it wasn’t a logistics nightmare already barely avoided, he then faced the possibility of being banned from the VDC for the same potatoes breaking school rules AND fighting non-magicians.

The entire day was too much stress for anyone to handle in a couple of hours. He wasn’t a child who threw a tantrum when things didn’t do his way, but was it too much to ask for things to at least not go as bad for once?

“I have finally understood the meaning behind the power that Vil-san was talking about.”

“!”

“Thanks to you, a lot of people are buying the apple juice from my hometown now… They are so happy about it.”

Could it finally be?

“I want this power too.”

Vil smiled smugly, a true victory having taken place before his eyes as Epel had finally seen his way. After a long and stressful struggle, Epel finally understood the true power of beauty. He would finally become the poison apple Vil needed to beat Neige.

The atmosphere in Ramshackle Dorm had turned more light-hearted, even If Epel and Deuce had been slightly punished and Ace seemed still confused at what Deuce had told him. But it was a huge improvement over the dreadful tension from the previous days, and it seemed that things were finally clearing up.

Vil had sent everyone to bed, stopping for a moment in the middle of the hall to check his phone calendar. There were still things to fix in their performance, but with the newfound interest and disposition of everyone, especially Epel, he would have to tinker the schedule he had for the remaining two weeks. To polish them so they would all shine brilliantly, Vil had to make the most of this time for a magnificent comeback.

“Ah, I’m glad I could meet you before you went to sleep,” the voice of the lone girl in the room was unmistakable as Vil sighed and closed the calendar app. Whenever she met him like this, he always ended angry with one of her “incredibly important discussions”, so he might as well finish it fast and go to his room to finish his plans.

However, the prefect looked at him, a soft smile on her face, and no intention to argue with him.

“Thank you, Schoenheit-senpai.”

Vil arched an eyebrow, surprised, but not wanting to chant victory too early. “What is this for?”

“You helped Epel’s village. He told us they weren’t doing so well recently. I mean, he received a lot of boxes that hadn’t been sold and were close to the expiration date. The MagiCam post you made really helped everyone, I can see how grateful and happy Epel is thanks to you.”

“Manager, did you pay attention to what I told Epel when they came back?”

“About you liking to make others kneel?”

He smiled snidely at her. Of all the things she had to remember, it was that. Fine then, he would make her kneel too soon enough.

“So you were paying attention. Good.” Standing proudly, almost haughty and captivating, he said, “I simply showed Epel my power. The power to compel others to do what I want. My beauty can get anyone to do my biding, just as I made all these people buy an apple juice. Of course, I used it to make him see my way, so that he focused on the VDC and dropped this rebellious nonsense. Everything I did, it was all for myself, that is all.”

“Huh, so that’s how you want to call it,” she replied, pursing her lips. Then she had the guts to laugh, covering a smile with her hand. “You’re really strange, Schoenheit-senpai.”

He could feel a headache incoming, thanks to her and her completely inappropriate reaction. She always found a way to get under his skin to his dismay and annoy him, no matter how much he mentally prepared himself.

And she would speak her mind to him because she thought her opinion was important to him.

But even if he grimaced, Ann wouldn’t wipe that smile on her face, no, in fact it had become brighter.

“You know you could have told him you would promote his family’s business if you won the VDC, right?” She looked him in the eye, a serious gaze in contrast with the warmth of her lips. “But you didn’t. You went ahead and made that post in your MagiCam. Because you are so popular, anything you promote will become successful, and you probably charge a lot to do that. But to do this for free, under the excuse as ‘doing it for yourself’, you could have done something else but you helped his village… Hehe, you are far more caring than you let on, senpai.”

Vil frowned as he returned her gaze, not wanting to lose that sudden staring contest, as looking away would give off an impression of weakness, that she had hit the nail right on the head. The last thing he needed was for her to think she understood him and his intentions or feelings. He didn’t appreciate her long tongue at all, nor that kind smile of hers, making him feel somehow exposed and annoyingly teased.

But before he could protest anything, she said, “I don’t think you want to argue with me about this, but thank you again, Schoenheit-senpai! I’m glad things got solved somehow between you and Epel, good night!” And without waiting for him to reply and rebuke her harshly, she left to her room, leaving him once more alone in the hallway.

He let out a long drawn sigh, this day had been exhausting, mentally and physically. Seriously, things could work out with less stress on him. And, even though he still mumbled about how annoying she had been, especially now with her cheeky remarks, he didn’t chase away the image of her thanking him before he went to sleep.

Thank you for reading!

#twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #twst oc #vil x mc #twst

17 notes · View notes