#HERE THEY ARE DEARIE <3 i typed them all out in one go putting my faith in timezones | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kira-fluff · 4 years

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please please PLEASE may we have a part two to the 'only one bed' piece you posted 🥺🥺 your writing is INCREDIBLE and I loved it so much 🥺🥺🥺 if u decide to do a part two then thank u so much in advance,, hope u have a good day 🥺

a/n: you asked for it (some others did too but this anon was so adorable so I’m replying to this one) so I’m gon’ give it to u <3 also, THANK YOU I am being 1000% honest that your comments seriously brought me to tears I was SO happy you all loved it. when I say pt.2, I kind of assume that it’s with the same characters (since no one specified others) so that’s what I’m gonna do!

Context provided, don’t worry babes

WARNINGS: sexual harassment, intoxication, extremely heavily suggestive (it gets pretty spicy)

Also contains spoilers from part 1 but like why would you even read part 2 if you haven’t read part 1? Get outta here and read it!! (Why is this even a warning? I don’t know don’t question my methods)

“There’s only one bed” [PT.2] PT.1

Saeyoung

You awoke to a sleeping Saeyoung, his toned arms enveloping your small body in a hug. Shamelessly, you laid still for a few moments longer.

When you’d noticed him stirring awake, you quickly shut your eyes once more, trying to conceal your growing smile

Saeyoung blinked a few times before registering at last where he was

He needed a little more time to register why you are in his arms

Pretending to be asleep again, you nuzzled further into his chest, letting out a soft groan

Saeyoung’s mind flew to DANGER MODE

He felt kinda guilty holding you in his arms because let’s face it there’s no way he isn’t enjoying this

He was so stunned that, for once, he was at a loss for words (shocking, I know)

Blinking out of his stupor, he murmured, “Y/N?”

His morning voice was... nice.

You pretended to “wake up”, fake yawning before saying, “Yes, Saeyoung?”, subtly batting your eyes a little

(It wasn’t subtle)

But since Saeyoung is an actual fucking moron, he can’t tell the difference

Play it cool, Seven. She can’t know that you know she was doing this all night and you didn’t do anything.

“Wow”, Saeyoung choked out a laugh, “I didn’t know you liked me this much.”

You look down, in between the two of you before slowly making eye contact with him again, smirking in disbelief, “I could say the same to you.”

A slow blush crept up his face at the innuendo

But he was NOT about to lose

Saeyoung Choi is NOT a loser

“Oh, yeah? Well, I wasn’t the one screaming my name last night.”

You gasped, “Screaming?! I didn’t scream -- I would’ve remembered a dream like tha-- Oh!” You quickly covered your mouth, already feeling regret seeping into every bone of your body.

Saeyoung openly chuckled, looking at you with a sort of darkness in his eyes

“You’re more dangerous than this whole mission.”

You were still out of sorts, failing to come up with a comeback besides a quiet, “I wasn’t screaming.”

A shit eating grin replaced the cool smirk on Saeyoung’s face

“I win.”

“Eat a dick, Seven.”

“Sorry, I think I’m more attracted to the one who was moaning out, ‘Oooh, Saeyoung~~~’“

You threw a pillow straight in his face, muttering a “shut up”, blushing profusely

Ever the competitive fucker, Saeyoung proclaims an all out pillow fight

It is WAR

Throwing pillow after pillow at each other in between giggles and taunts and jeers

“Take no prisoners!” you shouted, feeling unbeatable

Until Saeyoung grabbed your ass, pulling you down with him, earning a yelp from you

“What the fuck, Sev’?! You cheater!!”

“I don’t know, my hand’s a lot more comfortable here!”

You scoffed, “Oh, YOU! YOU are gonna GET IT!”

Saeyoung threw back his head in laughter but abruptly stopped when you grabbed his face with both your hands, and forcefully kissed him

He let out a “MMPH!”, eyes wide

Before, of course, kissing you back with equal force

Gasping for air at last, you spoke in between breaths, “I......win..”

“Actually, darling, I think I just did.”

Noticing your loss for words, he smirked before asking, “So.... what’s my prize?”

You didn’t have to be asked twice, “I think I have something in mind...”

His eyes met your own before slowly scanning your body, then snapping back to your eyes once more

You bit your lip

“I know you’ll lose at least one thing tonight.”

“Bold of you to assume--”

“Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Wish granted ;)

Yoosung

Yoosung glanced away, taking a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, yeah I did. I really like you.” You couldn’t hold back the big ol’ smile that took over your face as you proudly declared, “Me too!!” Right when Yoosung was going to go in for a kiss, he saw his auntie suddenly right next to the both of you

“Oh my GOD when did you get here?!”

She smirked, “My question first, dearie, what did you two like?” Neither of you answered, your cheeks growing red

“You know, the first time your uncle did it with me I felt the same way. Like, what a man! Must run in the fam--”

“OKAY! THANK YOU FOR THAT AUNTIE BUT BREAKFAST IS CALLING MY NAME MM SMELLS GOOD SEE YOU LATER.”

Your blush didn’t leave you as you smeared strawberry cream cheese on your toasted bagel. This trip was going to be very VERY difficult. Thank God there was alcohol. And Yoosung. And probably dogs. And Yoosung. Yeah. Gotta love relatives.

Following this stunning confession, you felt dumb because, well, you still didn’t know where you really stood with Yoosung

So when night came, you were ready to go to a party

Putting on your earrings and making sure your clothes were laid properly in place, you stepped out of the resort room to a waiting Yoosung

“H-hey, thanks for waiting for me,” You nervously tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

Yoosung avoided eye contact, opting for a stiff nod

You gazed deeper into the side of his head, feeling hurt.

But... you decided not to say anything.

Walking together to the reserved room the resort had made in preparation for Yoosung’s uncle was awkward, not a single word spoken between the two of you

When you arrived, Yoosung’s eccentric uncle immediately shouted, “’Sung ‘Sung! Get over ‘ere! We’re gonna have a part-ay!!”

You suddenly understood why Chaewon was the way he was

and why Yoosung’s parents forced him to go on this trip instead of themselves

Since you didn’t know his name, you opted for your nickname -- Uncle Alcohol

Cuz he had a LOT of it

In number, and in the amount he shoved down his throat at any given time

Seriously, how is this guy already drunk?!

You watched as Uncle Alcohol shoved a sloppy arm around Yoosung, not so quietly shouting something in his ear above the blaring music

You were too far away to hear, thank goodness, but you took note of the way Yoosung immediately blushed and shook his head fervently, his hands held in front of his chest

Before you could take in the atmosphere further, you felt a shiver down your back

Immediately turning around you saw the oh-so-famous Chaewon

“Heeeyyyyyyy babbeeheehe...... Wannnaaa..... sliiidee in my room tonighhht?” Laughing in a way what made you cringe and your ears numb, you replied, “No thanks, bud. You should probably get some water.”

“Nooo I want youuuu” Grabbing your boob in his hand, he laughed again, saying, “Nice”

Oh my god.. where the fuck is Yoosung??

You quickly slapped away his hand, shouting, “Stay the hell away from me asshole! Try anything else again, and I won’t give a shit that you’re drunk or Yoosung’s family, I will call the cops on you!”

He acted as if he didn’t hear you, but must’ve gotten the message because he sauntered over to another group of girls

Aren’t those his cousins? What the fuck is WRONG with that guy?!

The loud smack and curses answered the question. You didn’t attempt to help when you saw them proceed to beat the absolute shit out of him, blood and all.

What you needed was a drink. Something really, really strong.

You walked over to the resort bar tender

Something about your face must’ve given it all away because he began with a “Rough night, huh?”

“Do not even fucking ask me about it. God, please, I’m sorry that was rude. I just need something strong... just give me three fingers of rye.” You waved your hand nonchalantly, sitting at a bar stool.

“Are you sure, lady? You don’t look the type to handle that kinda liquor..”

“That’s kind of the point.”

He sighed, “Look... I’m not supposed to condone you getting completely shit-faced.. but you look like you need it tonight. I’ll make something a little easier down the throat, okay?”

You nodded, exasperated.

You didn’t know what it was, but it did the trick. It’s fruity taste easily passed down your throat, leaving you feeling lighter and more at peace.

“’nother one.”

He obliged, pouring another glass for you.

Four drinks in and your world was already unbelievably wobbly.

You were seeing double, looking at the bartender’s second form

You laughed, it all seemed to funny

Standing up, you stumbled over to the dance floor, grabbing one of Uncle A’s craft beers.

Dancing was fun for a few minutes, grateful no one had bothered you.

But you sat down, tears suddenly welling in your eyes

You were alone.

Yoosung.

Your mood brightened just by remembering his name

Giggling, you called out, “Yoosuuungg~~~” repeatedly around the room

One of the cousins heard your call, laughing because everything was funny, before grabbing Yoosung’s arm and shouting what they’d just heard

Yoosung quickly glanced over at you, brows furrowed. They softened a little upon seeing your drunken state

He’d had a beer or two, but the good feeling got old quickly and he sobered up by the time he’d noticed his cousins acting like complete fools

Upon seeing him, your smile grew to a big, childish grin

“Hiiii Yoosuuunggg...”

“Jeez, Y/n, how much did you drink?”

You giggled, playfully sticking out your tongue, “not sure~ a few.. probably..?” you laughed again, winking at him

“Hey, let’s get you some water, yeah? On second thought.. we gotta get outta here. I’ll carry you to our room.”

Your eyes shamelessly stared at his lips, not listening to a word he was saying

“Yoosunngg~~ I want you to fuck meeee”

Yoosung held the bridge of his nose in between his fingers, “L-let’s just go.”

Putting your arm over his shoulder, he carried most of your weight.

“Yoosuuung I want to have your babiess~~”

Yoosung blushed and looked down, continuing to walk, “You’re way too drunk.”

“Yoosunggieee I want to know what it feels like to have your d--”

He quickly shushed you, looking around for other observers

He basically ran to your resort room from there

Taking a long sigh as he finally had got you in the room, he wiped some sweat off his face

Just when he’d gotten up to get a water bottle for you, he heard retching noises

Before he could stop you, you upchucked all over yourself and some of the cheap resort carpeting

Groaning in physical and emotional pain, Yoosung muttered a quiet, “why me”

Before putting his arms under your arm pits and dragging you to the bathroom

He spent a good 10 minutes just trying to get the stupid shower to turn on because of course at any other place than your own house it’s never easy

Then, after getting the temperature just right, he forced you to down at least half of the water bottle

“Are you able to take off your clothes by yourself, Y/n?”

You giggled back, shaking your head

“Liar.”

“Help me take ‘em off pweaseee”

“No!”

You started tearing up again, your lip wobbling

“You know I can’t do that sweetie, you’re drunk.”

“No ‘m not.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You looked up at him before sighing and lifting up your shirt, fully exposing half of your naked body to him

He screamed like a little girl, running and slamming the door behind him

You pouted, “That’s no fun.”

After getting out of your clothes, you devised another poorly thought through plan

“Yoosunngggieee I need help washing myselffff”

“Um.. okay, lemme go see if I can get a hold of someone...”

“I want it to be you. I want it to be you who sees me like this. I want it to be you. Only you.”

“S-stop..” He said through the door.

“Please?”

Sighing, Yoosung knew there was no one who wasn’t drunk or available to help.

He did what any good guy would do. He proceeded to blind fold himself, opting for reaching his hands out to guess and where things were.

You laughed, “’Sunggiee you know you’re still gunna be touchin’ me”

“I’m not going to.”

“You said you’d help me!”

“Yeah, getting shampoo or something like that!”

“How ya gunna do that with somethin’ over your eyes?”

“I didn’t think it through that far.”

You sighed, conceding and attempting to wash yourself (which ended pretty badly) but, keeping his word, he managed to assist you the best he could without touching you.

He pitied the hangover you’d have... and the regret.

At last carrying you to bed after getting you another drink of water, he began cleaning the putrid stain you’d left on the carpet.

It was about 5AM when he’d finished, finally crawling into bed.

He thought about the way it felt last night compared to now

and he blamed himself.

He was the one that made you get so drunk you essentially passed out

Looking at you again, he sighed.

Tugging you close into his arms, he whispered a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Your subconscious must’ve heard him because you said in your sleep, “’s ok.”

Jumin

And suddenly your faces weren’t so far apart. And you couldn’t help but slowly close your eyes. Jumin was confused. He can be a bit of a pea brain, so he of course said, “I’m sure you’re very tired.” He shut off the light, reaching over you. You held back the big frown you’d gotten when you realized he’d rejected you. Unbeknownst to you that it took everything in him, from the moment he’d saw you in the jet cabin, not to scoop you up in his arms and make out with you the whole way there.

You were awoken by birds chirping outside the massive estate window

You made eye contact with an already staring, wide-eyed Jumin

Upon realizing you’d woken up, he averted his gaze saying, “Breakfast -- soon.”

You missed the crimson color of his face, instead getting up and stretching (like you didn’t learn your lesson last time)

Then, you made your way over to the fresh coffee that had been delivered to your room minutes before

Adding a shit load of cream and a dash of sugar, you turned to see Jumin staring at you. Again.

You breathed out a laugh, “What are you looking at?”

Jumin’s brows knit together for a split second before he again looked away, his soft blush never fading, “It’s hard not to.”

“Look at wha--” Your eyes grew wide in realization, looking down at the lingerie hardly covering your skin, Jumin’s shirt no where to be seen.

You screamed, making a poor attempt to cover yourself shouting, “Oh my god I’m so sorry I forgot!!”

Again, Jumin found his gaze resting on your body, stifling a groan.

He at last spoke, his deep voice reverberating throughout the room, “You... you’re making this all.. so much more ....difficult.”

You then grew defensive, “Made what difficult? Ogling at me without staying anything?!”

His eyes glowered with something you couldn’t quite place. “That’s not what I meant”

He walked slowly toward you, causing you to take steps backward

He’d backed you up against the wall, letting out a deep breath through his nose

With glittering eyes, he grabbed your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look up at him instead of the ground

“You’re doing on purpose, aren’t you?”

You gulped in anticipation, “D-doing what?”

Jumin raked his eyes down your body then looked back up at you with a sarcastic expression that said, “really?”

“N-no! I didn’t have a choice!!”

“Your clothes would’ve been dry hours ago.. if it really bothered you--”

“Well I was really tired from the jet ride and putting up with you!”

Jumin looked surprised for a moment before grinning sardonically, “Putting up with me? Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to control myself when you’re constantly grabbing me, touching me, everything!”

“I didn’t do all that on purpose!” Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but you weren’t about to admit that to him when he was being such a dick.

He laughed dryly, “Yeah, okay. All I’m saying is that I don’t find it very funny.”

“You think that you’re just some big joke to me?!”

“What other explanation is there?”

You were practically hysterical in your laughter saying, “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged.

“Yeah,” you glared back at him, your faces inches apart.

Before Jumin could realize what he was doing, he pulled your hips flush against his own, crashing his lips harshly on yours.

Letting out moans of both desperation and anger, your eyebrows furrowed as you deepened the kiss, gasping when Jumin slid his tongue so far into your mouth you swore you felt it going down your throat.

After what felt like hours, you parted for oxygen, both breathing heavily, before going in for another long, simmering kiss

You felt Jumin smirk against your mouth causing you to lightly smack his chest, hating that he knew he’d gotten a rise out of you.

He grabbed your wrist against his chest, slowly guiding it to his first button of his night shirt.

You made quick work of removing all the fastenings, nodding and obeying him when he commanded, “Jump”

Your legs tied round his waist, you continued to make out, pulling at the waistband of his pants.

Jumin moaned into your mouth before parting to say, “You will be the death of me, little spitfire.”

Let’s just say the whole fiance thing might not be a lie anymore.

Zen

Zen wanted to say something smooth like “I’ve always wanted to do that.” But instead he said “I’ve always wanted to do you.” He mentally smacked his head, blaming the lack of oxygen for his stupidity. But you smirked up at him coyly, replying, “Then why don’t you?” Um, yeah, rip your hotel neighbor he will literally hate both of you so much.

You awoke you Zen rubbing his thumb on your arm, basking in the morning light

He groggily said, “’mornin’ babe.”

“I’m ‘babe’ now?”

“What else am I supposed to call my beautiful girlfriend?”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, smiling.

“I love you, Zen. So much.”

“I love you, too, Y/n. If you didn’t already get that from when we...”

You laughed shyly, “yeah..”

“I know I skipped a few steps, but I have never been happier and more sure of anything in my life.”

You looked up at him, peacefully grinning.

“Hey, let’s get married.”

Zen choked on his spit, “R-right now?!”

You giggled, “Not right now, but soon. I dunno, we’ve been friends for, like, forever. Now that we know we like each other it seems like the next step.”

Zen looked at you, searching your face to determine whether you were serious or not.

Detecting that you weren’t joking he laughed airily saying, “Sure. Whatever you want princess.”

He kissed the top of your head, whispering, “You’re so beautiful, ya know that?”

Sighing comfortably, you nodded, falling back into sleep.

“H-hey! Wake up!!” Zen shouted, giving up and just cuddling up to you instead, stroking your hair gently.

The concert wasn’t until late that night -- he had time to spare.

....Even if he didn’t, he’d make time for you. - 3 months later

In classic Zen and Y/n style, you’d eloped shortly after the tour ended.

“Hey, Y/n? Have you seen my grey t-shirt?”

You looked up from your laptop, “Mhm, it’s in the dryer.”

He sighed, “Thanks babe”, before making his way down to the mudroom where your laundry was kept

He sifted through the hot laundry in the dryer, not seeing his shirt anywhere, when he hard a crash.

“Y/N?!”

He rushed out to the living room, glancing from the smashed coffee mug on the ground, to you.

“Y/N?! Are you okay?!!!”

You clutched your stomach in anguish, beads of sweat forming at your brow, “Y-yeah.. my stomach hurts so bad ‘s all.”

Zen was having NONE of that

He rushed you to the Emergency Room, holding your hand the entire time.

“It’s gonna be okay, Princess, I promise.” You nodded, before losing consciousness -

you awoke to a depressing hospital room, meeting Zen’s worried eyes.

“How long was I out..?”

“For a few minutes.”

You sighed in relief, feeling a lot better than you were when you were rushed to the ER.

All of a sudden, a doctor entered the room looking stern.

“I wanted to discuss the diagnosis with the two of you when you were both physically present.”

You blanched, looking at Zen with fear etched in your eyes.

Zen held your hand tighter, before saying, “What’s the problem?”

The doctor looked in between the two of you before letting out a little laugh, “There’s nothing wrong, actually.”

You both looked confused, Zen proudly saying, “Then why’d you look all doom and gloom when you came in here?!”

The doctor roared with laughter saying, “Eh, I get a kick out of the faces you guys make. Ah, now to the diagnosis.”

“There’s still a diagnosis?!”

You shushed Zen, nodding at the doctor.

He took a breath before saying, “Miss Y/N Hyeon, you’re pregnant.”

Both your eyes grew wide, mouths slacked

“O-oh, oh my gosh!!”

Zen enveloped you in a big hug, congratulating you (and also hiding his tears)

This man could not hold back the proud grin he sported for MONTHS

I simp for this prompt so if someone asked, it’s not like I could say no to writing it for more characters.......right? lol Also, I came to a realization that I made that a fanfic rather than a headcanon.. so oh well, right?

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wixcook · 3 years

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@itmelonk I got you covered dw!!!! I had to Google a list of pyro characters for this why are there so many????????

Also if somebody could teach me how to put stuff under a cut on mobile I would actually cry??? Please help me Google isn’t working :(

Nicknames they call you (pyro edition)

Cw - none

•~•

Diluc

Off topic but I just wanna say that this man is either super romantic or it’s like going on a date with a chunk of granite <3

Like so many of the characters in mond, he’s old fashioned

Sticks to the classics like “darling” and “dearest”

Would sneak in a couple “my love”’s in private tho

Amber

AMBER <33

Had a slew of nicknames

Everything under the sun and moon and more

Her favourite is “bunny” tho for,,,,, obvious reasons,,,,,

I feel like she’s somebody to express her affection with actions rather than nicknames yk?

Xinyan

She deserves more appreciation!!!!

Called you a roadie once as a joke

Also calls you “darling” 😩

You remember that little pogchamp thing??

“Are you my little rocker”

I know nothing about here I’m so sorry

Yanfei

Some legal term

Has seriously called you, in public, the “prosecutor of my heart <3”

You are no longer welcome at Second Life.

She’s old please forgive her

“Dearie” is a go to favourite of hers

Hu Tao

Rerun banner when

Calls you pumpkin!!!

It just fits and I stand by that

Also slips in the occasional “boo”

For ghost reasons and ghost reasons only

Yoimiya

She sure does!

Every single nickname all at once

Really just piles them on, especially when she wants something

Doesn’t really have a go to???

I feel like the nickname would depend on the situation

Like for something more serious she would stick to “babe” your just your name

Also fond of those really cliche sayings???

Like “sweet as sugar” kinda stuff

Off topic but she’s made a firework that looks like your face but just slightly off before and it’s just so slightly off that you can’t tell what’s wrong with it but you just know

Bennett

Honestly doesn’t give a second thought to nicknames, he’s just happy to have you around

Super worried his bad luck might effect and chase you off

Calls you his lucky charm!!!

Somehow his luck always seems to get better when you’re around, and the title just stuck

If you’re an adventurer and go out with him on his adventures, 1000% calls you “partner”

Xiangling

My queen <3

Super into foody-type nicknames

Stuff like “honey”

I feel like she would use “pepper”??????

Cause like the chillies,,, and Guoba,,,,,

Like Bennett, if you’re also a chef or enjoy cooking, she’d also call you partner!!!

And maybe her rival as well, if you work at another restaurant or smth

It’s all in good fun tho, you love each other and that’s what matters :)

Klee (platonic)

I was on the fence about including this one but please understand that this portion of the post is purely platonic, or from a sibling standpoint

Absolutely calls you “big brother/sister/sibling”

You’re a cool person in her eyes

“My sibling is the best!!!”

Even if you aren’t actually related, you’re her sibling now I’m sorry I don’t make the rules

If you have a vision and help her with her less than legal fish blasting, she besties upon you the prestigious title of “big sibling master fish blaster” and makes you a little badge in red crayon :)

Thoma

Not playable yet but I don’t care

Please come home sir I can cook I can clean kind of not really but it’s the thought that counts

He’s young, he’s an easy going guy, this probably isn’t his first relationship so he’s got a huge verity at his disposal

Starts out with the basic “babe” and “sweetie” and moves on from there

If there’s a nickname you don’t like or aren’t comfortable with, fear not!

He’s got 29739834 more to replace that one

•~•

I’m so sorry these are so short it’s 2am teehee~

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writings-of-a-british-fangirl · 4 years

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A Lesson In Traditions [Din Djarin x Reader]

Title: A Lesson In Traditions Summary: After the brief spark, you felt between you and Din, you are longing for it to be recreated. And, maybe a shiny trinket from Mandalorian tradition can help you with that. Warnings: None I don't think ? Request: N/A

A/N: Some of you wanted a part two to A Lesson In Mando'a so here's the follow up! I might make this a series if anyone is interested

A/N 2: I made up the idea of betrothal necklaces. I don't think these exist in Mandalorian culture, but I took inspiration from water benders in Avatar the Last Airbender, because I thought the idea was cute! So credit to that series!

PART 1: A Lesson In Mando’a PART 2: A Lesson In Traditions PART 3: A Lesson In Touch

Din Djarin~A Lesson In Traditions

It had been a while since Din had told you what cyar'ika had meant, and ever since then the two of you had been dancing around each other. Surely, he knew you liked him by now- you had tried to hint at him several times: lingering touches, longer conversations, closeness to him. And, yet the Mandalorian remained oblivious. You supposed that no matter the species or creed, men were all as dense as each other.

You huffed as you held the child on your lap.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, little one," you murmured, "I think I'm having more luck communicating with you, than I am with your dad. ...Maybe I should just give up. He has his creed to follow anyway..."

The child looked at you, his head slightly tilted. His big eyes stared up at you. Despite not saying anything at all, you knew he was understanding you. He was a pretty great listener, even if he was only a youngling.

"You know, you're right. Maybe I- maybe we just need a day out. Some fresh air. What do you think? Do you want to take a little trip? We need some more supplies anyway, I'm getting sick of rations, and I'd like some fresh food. What about you?"

The child perked up at the mention of food, and you smiled.

"I'll take that as a yes," you giggled, "Let me go speak to your daddy."

You placed the child gently down in his bed, and made your way up to the cockpit, where Din was flying the ship. Your head peeked up from the ladder, and you clambered up and stood awkwardly for a second at the back of the room. Din heard you enter, and waited for you to speak. He turned his head ever so slightly, his beskar glinting from the faint light the stars around the ship were producing.

"Hi," you murmured, wandering over to where Din was sitting, "How far away are we from the next stop?"

"About an hour," Din replied, "Why do you ask?"

You fold your hands neatly in front of you, you shift your weight slightly forward, and almost rock on the balls of your feet.

"Well, I was thinking that I- well, us... You, me and the kid could take a trip to the local market on our next stop. It's just we need more food anyways, and I'm going a bit stir crazy. It'll do us some good to get some fresh air, especially the kid. He can't spend his whole life in this ship."

Din contemplates for a second.

"I know what you're going to say- It's dangerous, we're being hunted but-"

"-I was actually going to say okay."

"Really? I mean, great. Thank you!"

Din smiles under his helmet, not that you can tell, and continues, "As you said, we need food anyway, and the next planet we're going to land on is remote enough. It's definitely not Imp friendly either."

You nod, and flash Din a smile. The tension slowly builds in the room; you can feel his eyes on you. Despite not being able to see his eyes (hell, you didn't even know what colour they were), you could sense them: trained on you. You coughed awkwardly.

"I'm going to go check on the kid. Uh- Give me a shout when we're about to land."

"I will, cyar'ika."

Your heart jumps at the nickname.

~~~

As soon as you landed, you grabbed your bag, your gun and a set of knives. Despite not technically being employed by any bounty hunting guilds right now, it never hurt to be prepared: especially when the small green creature you were travelling with had such a high price on his head. And, then you turned to Din. He was also carrying his fair share of weapons, and of course the child. He was situated in Din's bag, his cute little face peaking out over the top. You smiled at him, before beginning to walk down the ramp.

The Mandalorian made his way into the town, with you by his side, and his small son literally at his side. He didn't feel uneasy about this place- it looked relatively safe, but he was still on high alert. And, he wanted you to be as well.

Despite having only known you a couple of months, he didn't dare think about the possibility of something happening to you. He knew he had to protect the child, that was a given, but the growing affection he had for you was uncharted. As a boy, he had learned about Mandalorians caring for foundlings (just as they had done with him as a boy), but romantic relationships were something out of his reach. He knew they occurred; they had to. The Mandalorians, while being a creed of highly trained soldiers, still held family at their core. After all, how were they to make more warriors without romantic relationships. But, truthfully, they were something unfamiliar to him. It had never been possible in his life, not with the creed. With you, his thoughts had begun to wander more and more lately. About you being next to him, being his family. He knew Mandalorians were allowed to take their helmets off for family, for those in their Clan. The more time you spent with him, the more he considered you to be apart of his Clan... He shook himself slightly. 'Stop,' he thought, 'You shouldn't have this on your mind. Y/N doesn't think of you that way. They're here for the child. That's it.'

If only Din knew how far from the truth that was.

"I need you to take him," Din says to you, carefully taking the child from his bag and handing him to you, "I'm going to go into the cantina, and see if I can find me- us some work. I trust you can manage to get us some supplies?"

"You insult me, my love," you laugh, holding the child in your arms, "I am more than capable. I hope you save me at least one good bounty. I can't let you have all the fun."

"I'll keep an eye out. Meet me here in half an hour."

"Will do, my love," you smile and walk away from him.

Din was glad for the distance being put between the two of you, because he was sure if you were any closer to him, you would be able to hear his heart racing behind his beskar. 'My love,' he pondered. He quite liked the way that sounded rolling off your tongue, perhaps even more than he liked hearing you say his own name. He gave one last look over his shoulder, just to make sure you were okay, before heading into the cantina.

~~~

You'd successfully made it to the market, and had made your way around over half of the stalls, and you had basically bought all the food for you and your Mandalorian. As you continued walking through the market, most of the stalls you passed by were food, but some were trinkets, toys, and even weapons. You'd hesitated by one particular booth. They were selling crystals, luxury cloth, and jewellery. Usually, you weren't one for such fine things (in your life style, things like that would end up ruined, stolen or pawned), but you'd been drawn in by one particular necklace. The chain was made up of two types of metal from what you could tell: a shinning silver, and a deep, darker grey. Attached to the chain was an unfamiliar symbol. It curved into a symmetrical shape, one that looked like two halves of a whole.

"That's real beskar, you know," the seller assured, "It would look beautiful sitting around your neck."

The seller was an older woman. She wore blue and purple robes, dirtied only a little by the sand- no doubt from the extensive sand desert that lay just outside the town. She had a kind face, her eyes smiling up at you. You'd almost forgotten to reply.

"What do you say? Can I interest you in such a fine, unique piece?"

"Oh, I'm not sure-"

"-I'm sure your husband would like it: it would match his own armour after all," the lady added, taking the necklace off of its stand and presenting it to you.

"Oh, he's not- He's not my husband. We're just travel companions, that's all."

"Someone should tell him that. The way he looks at you... Only few people are so lucky. Looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky."

"How do you know that? His helmet-"

"-There's some things you just know with age, dearie. Love is one of them."

You were rendered speechless. Did he really look at you like that? Was is that obvious? Did his heart beat for yours the way yours beats for his? You hardly had time to process the thought of you and Din together that close, as spouses, before the seller spoke again.

"So what do you say? Can I tempt you with this necklace? I can even throw in a free toy for the little one," she smiled, cooing to the child from across the table.

You looked at the seller, and then down to him.

"What do you say, little guy? Do you want a new toy?" you murmured to him; when you saw his eyes gleam with excitement, you knew it was all over.

"I think he said yes," the merchant laughs.

"I think you're right," you reply, reaching into your bag for your purse, "I usually wouldn't spend credits on a thing like this... But, it is quite beautiful. And, you do deserve a new toy."

You handed the lady her credits, and took the necklace from her. She'd placed it into a small, black, velvet box. The box had small silver hinges and a clasp at the front. You felt a little giddy. It had been a while since you'd made such an unessential purchase, and there was a small part of you that hoped if you wore this you might get the attention of a certain masked warrior. You shook your head, granted it was a little desperate, but you figured worth a shot.

The child also received his gift too. It was a small figurine of an animal. You weren't quite sure which one, but he seemed to like it, and that was good enough for you.

You slipped the velvet box into your bag, and caught a glimpse of your watch. Fuck, you were late. You jostled the child closer to your chest and began to almost sprint back to the cantina: you did not want to have to deal with a grumpy Mandalorian, least of all if you were the cause of his grumpiness. The closer you got, the easier it was to make out his figure.

"Look, before you say anything, I'm sorry I'm late. Time must have slipped my mind, and I ran into a strange lady at one of the stalls, and she sold me this- You know what, you probably don't need to know all that. Just know we've got enough food to last us at least a month, and the child had fun."

"He has a new toy."

"I- Yeah," you replied, "Not exactly an essential, I know, but don't worry I used my credits. Besides, it'll hopefully stop him wrecking your cockpit for a toy."

Din nodded. You don't know why you expected him to say more. He wasn't a man of many words, and you were apparently no exception. You made your way back to the ship with the Mandalorian in silence. It wasn't unpleasant by any means, but also it felt like you both had lots to say: you just didn't know how to say it.

"Did you buy anything for yourself?" Din asked, looking over to you as you reached the ship.

How did he know?

Din obviously sensed your confusion.

"I- You said that a lady sold you something, that's all," Din clarified.

"Oooh, oh that," you said, looking down at your bag, "Yeah, I did. A bit of an impulse buy if I'm honest, but the lady was too nice to deny. She sold me a necklace. Maybe you can help me put it on."

Din nodded; that should be easy. It was just a necklace after all. He'd fought off enemies twice his size, survived when the odds were against him, and was one of the best bounty hunters there was... It should be easy. So why was his heart racing?

You placed the child down on the floor of the Razor Crest, and reached inside your bag for the box. Your hands traced the inside of your bag blindly, before feelings the soft touch of velvet. Carefully, you took it out of the bag, and revealed the box. Din's eyes watched with intrigue. You unfastened the clasp and opened the box. It snapped back on its hinges, and revealed the chain.

Din's eyes registered the metal before his brain could even process it: a betrothal necklace.

"The lady said it was genuine beskar, but I'm not so sure. I think it's just silver, probably some iron too- but it's pretty either way. Do you mind helping me put it on still?"

Din's mind was still racing. He'd heard about the tradition of giving a betrothal necklace from urban tales and word of mouth from other Mandalorians, but he'd never actually seen one this close. The tradition stated that the Mandalorian proposing would take part of their beskar and part of their riduur-to-be's beskar and melt them into a necklace, with the two swirling around each other before eventually combining into a symbol at the bottom. Usually it was a good luck symbol, or for fertility. Something along those lines. It felt almost surreal seeing one close up.

"Are you alright, Din?" you ask, "Is something up?"

He wasn't sure if he should mention the tradition, what the necklace meant to the Mandalorians... It was basically a dead tradition now, anyway. There was no harm in not telling you, right? After all, there were very few Mandalorians left, and even fewer that managed to have the privilege of finding a riduur: you didn't need to know..

"No, no... I'm fine," he reassures, "I- Hand me the necklace."

Din took the necklace from you and instructed you to hold your hair out of the way. You obliged, and felt him lace the necklace around your neck before fastening it in the back. There was a small pause, where the two of you just stayed there: in the moment. It took everything in you not to shiver as you felt a rush down your spine. The sensation of Din's hands on you, even just for a moment, was almost too much. You turned around to face him.

"Do you like it?" you ask, holding the pendant of your new necklace between your thumb and your index finger.

"It suits you," he affirmed, "Mesh'la."

"Thank you," you blushed, making a mental note to ask what 'Mesh'la' meant at a later date, "I- I'm going to go put the food supplies away."

Din decided against telling you about the origin of your neckalce; you looked far too radiant wearing it for him to say anything that may shift the tone. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, so he just let you walk past him. Part of him felt guilty for not saying anything, but another part of him selfishly thought it looked beautiful sat around your neck. For a moment he could almost imagine that he had given you that..

...That you were his riduur.

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 4 years

Text

The Hoodie Problem

A wardrobe mistake costs you and Henry the privacy of your relationship.

“No,” you groaned as your heard the dreaded chiming of the Alexa alarm. “No, no, no, turn it off!”

“You have to say its name, dearie,” a tired Henry grumbled in response. You could feel him pull you tighter, deeper into his warm arms. “Alexa, stop the alarm.” The alarm stopped right after.

“It’s currently 6:20 AM. The weather in London, England, is currently 6 degrees Celsius and will be sunny for the rest of the day. There are no unread emails for your .edu or gmail.com account. One package, containing 3 makeup brushes and dog treats will be arriving to 102…’

“Will she shut up?” You groaned in response, turning back into Henry’s warm body. The room was freezing cold, and the dog had already gotten off the bed.

“I don’t think she’s done yet.” In a single second, the opening riff of Back in Black started playing. “Alright, love, you actually need to go.”

“No,” you grumbled. “Fuck class, I don’t wanna go to class. I hate it anyway, and I don’t wanna sit there and listen to my history professor talk about an asshole and defend his work when it’s already shit anyway.” Henry chuckled, sending another wave of heat through your body, making you want to stay even more.

“You won’t get to argue your vulgar point if you’re late.” You sighed and started to sit up, yelling at Alexa to stop playing music. “Go, darling, otherwise I won’t get out of bed either.”

“You’re such an asshole in the morning,” you responded, wrestling yourself onto the floor. A gigantic ball of fluff followed you, expecting his breakfast. “Can I borrow a hoodie? Left mine in the laundry.”

“Which you only did so you can borrow one of mine. They should all be clean, just find one that can cover the bruises on your neck.” You sighed, spying a hoodie from a charity Rugby match Henry had done the month before, and after slapping deodorant onto your under-arms you pulled it on over her sports bra. You hoped it would be enough. Quite honestly, you didn’t care who saw the hickies on your neck. Anyone who was going to see was an adult who should act like an adult about it. Your hair would have to do since it wasn’t too greasy, and after deciding just to leave it down, you finished up in Henry’s adjoining bathroom and walked back to the bedroom.

“Covered?” You asked.

“Yep. Leave me your keys, take the Merc, and I’ll pick it up from the shop after my workout, I want them to check the paint on the hood, too.” He looked you up and down, sitting up in bed as you walked over to give him a kiss.

“Thanks, babe.”

“You look beautiful,” he responded with a smile.

“I do not.”

“You do!” Without bothering to look at the back of the sweatshirt, Henry got out of bed and went into the bathroom. You yawned as the massive dog zoomed down the stairs, waiting for breakfast. Kal sniffed around as you set foot on the stair landing, probably wondering why your vanilla perfume was mixed with the scent of Henry’s strong aftershave. Truth be told, you were glad. It was a comforting smell.

“Be a good boy, Kal, Papa’s gonna feed you in a minute.” The dog panted in excitement and went to go stand by his water bowl, where he would inevitably drool for the rest of the time until Henry came to feed him. You placed your things from the dining room table, your makeshift desk, into your backpack, refilled your water bottle, and took a few seconds to exchange your keys with Henry’s keys. With another glance around the house, making sure you didn’t leave any chargers behind, you walked out the front door and began to adjust Henry’s car to fit your height. You felt like something was off, but you couldn’t describe it. Instead you went to go get your coffee and find a place to park before your frightfully early class.

“You look knackered,” a voice said behind you as you finally climbed out of the car an hour and a half later. It wasn’t the first time you’d borrowed one of Henry’s cars, but at least it was the humblest of the three he had. The McLaren wasn’t something he even trusted himself to drive sometimes, he’d finally gotten rid of the Clio collecting dust at his parents’ house, and the Aston was his precious baby you didn’t dare go near. But you were endlessly grateful he let you borrow the Merc. You just wished it wasn’t so flashy. It was ten times flashier than the seven-year-old Hyundai you’d inherited from your mother. Especially in the parking spot right in front of the building ten minutes before class where people could see you getting out of it. The voice who’d spoken was Anna, your best friend, and supposed roommate if you ever came home.

“Trust me when I say that man needs a new coffee machine, because I’m sick of having to leave the house at seven in the morning to go buy some,” you groaned in response, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. It was heavy as hell, but you were carrying most of your things in it because you didn’t have time to go back to your barely lived-in dorm room. Your other hand held your gigantic coffee, the biggest one you could buy because apparently British people preferred caffeine-free tea in the morning. People called you absolutely crazy for getting cold drinks when it was cold outside, too, but you didn’t care.

“You realize your neck is completely purple, right? I doubt an espresso machine is the reason you’re so tied.” You scoffed at Anna’s statement. In reality it hadn’t been crazy sex keeping you up for the past few nights – you’d been working so late that Henry came up to you the night before and wouldn’t stop biting at your neck until you agreed to come to bed, hoping it would embarrass you into having better sleeping habits. But sex was a much better story.

“Is it really bad?” You asked.

“No. Not from the front.” Anna started walking backwards up the building’s staircase, opening the door for the two of you. Your classroom was the first one on the left, a massive auditorium, because everyone had to take the History of Wagnerian Opera class for some stupid reason. You took your normal places in the bright room, taking your laptops out onto the desks. You fully expected to have to plug it in, but Henry, the ever helpful boyfriend, had plugged it in when he found it half dead the night before.

“Had a rough night, did you, Yankee?” Another voice asked behind you. It was Isaac, another student you’d been friends with from the moment you stepped on campus.

“What on Earth gave you that idea?” You asked as you took a sip of coffee. Isaac leaned closer, looking down at the back of the sweatshirt you were wearing. The hood barely covered the top of the lettering on your back. It read Cavill in white letters, and underneath it was the number 01. It was obviously customized, and well-loved judging by the fading English rose that was the logo for Henry’s favorite team. It was about three sizes too large, too, adding to the evidence that the hoodie didn’t belong to you. Isaac and Anna knew you were dating Henry, but most people had no idea. It wasn’t like you were hiding it, because you weren’t. Henry just wanted to protect you from the craziness that came with dating him, including paparazzi and prying eyes that would try to find their way into every little thing you did with or without him. You hadn’t signed an NDA or anything, but Henry was insistent on protecting you for as long as he could. You were fourteen years younger than him and he loved you dearly and nothing could change that.

“You do realize that the back of your hoodie says HIS name on it, don’t you?” Isaac said quietly, hoping no one else in the auditorium heard.

“What?” You asked in response. You could feel your face going red.

“It says Cavill 01.”

“Oh, shit.” You couldn’t take it off because the only thing you were wearing underneath it was a thin sports bra, and of course Henry’s car was so spotless on the inside that there was no chance of there being an extra shirt in there. Come to think of it, he’d been lounging around in the sweatshirt the night before. Shit, you thought. How could you miss it? How could you screw up that badly? What if this ruined everything?

“Oh shit is right,” Anna remarked.

“Does my hair cover it?” Isaac looked down at your hair. The lecture was about to start, but the thought of maybe losing Henry over a hoodie made you want to sit in the corner and cry.

“No. Neither does the hood.” You sank lower into the seat.

“Maybe people won’t care. Cavill’s a common last name here.”

“No, not really. And I think they will.” You sighed, crossing your arms against your chest.

“Just don’t mention it to anybody and wear your bag when you can. Problem solved.”

“I’ll get you something else later,” Anna cut in. In reality everyone already knew something was up. You had mentioned a few times, offhand, that you had almost moved into your boyfriend’s house and was commuting from Kensington. And you mentioned one day that he was an actor, much less that he was one of the most well-known actors in the entire world. Your phone had his name as Hank, and even though the connection wasn’t immediate, it was still enough to make someone think of the name Henry. Damn the British and their overly common name diminutives.

“I swear to God, I’ll strangle whoever even thinks about it,” you sighed in response, putting your head down until the professor started class. You didn’t need to take notes quite yet, and pulled up the messages between you and Henry. The last night it was just on my way, got the food! And you are an absolute angel. Drive safe. His name wasn’t completely revealed at the conversation.

We have a problem. Henry started typing immediately.

You didn’t crash the car, did you????

No, but that probably would’ve been better…

Please explain.

Promise you won’t get mad?

What’s wrong???

I picked up your hoodie from last night and it has your name on the back and it hides my neck but it has your name on it and there’s nothing under it so I can’t take it off and I’m freaking out because you don’t want people to know and I’m sorry, I just screwed up so bad. I’m such an idiot.

It’s okay. Calm down. You’re not an idiot. You’re an absolute moron and I love you anyway

I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t want anyone to know.

The only reason I didn’t want anyone to know is because I didn’t want anyone to make you upset because I’m stupidly in love with you and people will try to tell you otherwise. It’ll be okay. If they find out they find out. Don’t worry about it. Really.

I feel like an idiot now.

I’m sure you look better in it than I do anyway. Don’t worry about it, love. I’ll see you at home and we’ll figure it out.

Thank you.

I love you!!!!

Love you more dimples.

You smiled a little, sitting back into your chair and starting to type out notes about the dark undertones within Ride of the Valkyrie. For the rest of class, it was fine. But you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous for your next class. Isaac wasn’t there to back you up, and Anna sat on the other side of the room because you always distracted each other. You were on your own, taking in the scent of Henry’s aftershave that was left on the sweatshirt from the night before. It helped you calm down at least a little, even if the name on the back made you nervous. You sat lower in the chair than usual, but it didn’t stop at least one person knowing.

“You like Henry Cavill too?” Elizabeth, the most annoying person on Earth (and a completely mediocre pianist with no sense of emotion who only got in because her father works for the royal family), said as she strained to read the sweatshirt on the way to her seat.

“Yep.” You tried to play it off and wipe out the conversation before it even started. Never before had you wanted to listen to your old white professor rant about other old dead white guys. “He’s a good actor.”

“I’m, like, so in love with him,” Elizabeth responded. Henry rolled his eyes every single time you said a word about Elizabeth, but you’d never tell her that. “Like, he’s just so dreamy.”

“Oh, yeah,” you responded without even thinking. “He’s gorgeous.” You didn’t even realize what you said until Elizabeth’s eyes danced with a grin that matched her mouth.

“You know him?” She exclaimed.

“I mean, um, yeah, my internship…” you tried to cover, but it definitely didn’t work.

“Shut up, you know him? Or, oh my gosh, is he the guy you’re dating?” You could tell that all of the color drained from your face and the room suddenly felt hot. You weren’t going to lie about it, but she would also be one of the first few people to know. And it wouldn’t be long before she blabbed her mouth to her followers.

“I heard he likes younger girls anyway,” Ellen, the girl who sat behind Elizabeth, said. That was the cue for you to realize that everyone else was listening, too, and they couldn’t just mind their business. Your hands shifted uncomfortably inside the pocket of Henry’s sweatshirt. The room was definitely getting warmer.

“Yeah,” you responded quietly. “We’ve been dating a few months and didn’t want to tell anyone yet. But you figured it out, so congrats.” You swallowed a lump in your throat. On the one hand you were glad that it wasn’t going to be a secret anymore. You didn’t want to hide how much you loved the curly-haired idiot who was too large for his own good.

“Oh my GOD!” Elizabeth said excitedly. She was a little too loud with it. You just turned back around and pulled out your phone, hands shaking from the anxiety of what Henry had said. He said you were good enough, but what happened when the world was able to judge you?

Well, Elizabeth figured it out. Not long until she spills to her 22 followers. And then their 22 followers.

At least I can post that picture you took with me on the beach…

The ugly one where I almost drowned after? Nooooo please!!!

Oh that’s not what I was thinking about, but now that you mention it, my fingers might just slip…

This conversation is DONE, fat Cavill! I swear I’ll punch the dimples right out of you.

You underestimate me, little one.

Cavill, this class is an hour long and I swear if I get out and you did something I will make you sleep on your own couch for the next year.

Guess you’ll just have to fight me when you get home…

With that, the conversation was over. Most people in the room didn’t seem to notice or care, but Elizabeth and Ellie did. Your friends didn’t for the most part, but you would assume some would turn on you. And you could tell that they were going to do whatever they could to make sure everyone knew that they knew before anyone else. It was strange to think that Henry was being so cool with it, that he wanted there to be a before people knew and an after. You shut your mind off and did your best to focus, even though it wasn’t very well.

You got up at the end of class and packed your things, ready to brave the library until your next class, but you exited the room and there was someone standing at the entry hallway. Henry. And he was holding another coffee in one hand, and draped on his other arm was a shirt. He’d never been in public with you without some stupid disguise on, much less to bring you coffee in between classes.

“Henry?” You asked, slightly too loudly. Elizabeth and Ellen turned toward you, but you blew past them to see Henry. He was grinning, from ear to ear.

“So apparently, according to the internet in the past few minutes I’ve been in the car, I’m cradle robbing. Apparently you’re Instagram-model material, which I could’ve told you,” he said. “I brought you another coffee for dealing with bullshit, and I brought you another shirt in case you want to change.”

“Can I keep this one?” You asked, looking down at Henry’s that you were still wearing. “And you didn’t post the bad picture of me yet?”

“No, I was waiting for your approval,” he responded. He reached for his phone and handed it to you, and it was opened to a set of pictures he hadn’t posted yet.

@henrycavill: The real Mission Impossible is getting her to stay still long enough to take a picture with her favorite old man. To be clear, though; she is MINE and I couldn’t be happier. I will sword-fight ANYONE to defend her honor!!

It was a series of five pictures, all of them the two of you together, some of them cuter than others, and you just grinned. You couldn’t believe he was okay with everything, and you couldn’t believe that he was actually standing there with you, braving the people in your class just to hand you a coffee and offer you a shirt.

“I love you,” you said quietly. He smiled in response. “Really.”

“I love you too. I don’t care who knows.” You laughed and hugged him tightly, even though he was still holding your coffee. “But I do want the Merc back, your car is outside.”

“Whatever you say, cradle-robber.”

A/N: I’m in an opera history class right now and it’s so frustrating that I’m definitely taking it out here. I hope the person who requests this loves it as much as I did because omg I love this 😭

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill imagine

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dreamlover31 · 4 years

Text

Broken Promises

Hello my dearies, thank you for all of your comments and support throughout this comeback of mine lol

And now here's the third and final installment of my mini drama...my apologies since this took me a while to post this

Tagging: @madpanda75 @dreila03 @laceybellerain @melsquared79 @southern-magnolia @glimmerglittergirl @xemopeachx @misssirenlove @tropes-and-tales @thatesqcrush @sweetsummertime99 @imjustreallynosy @amirightcounselor @rampantmuses @youreverycolor

Two pink lines...what should have been caused for great joy, instead has brought upon nothing but anguish and despair. After the incident at the apartment, you had packed up your belongings and moved into your sister’s place in Soho; leaving behind the man who had all but decimated your heart. Though the time was brief, being held hostage by your fiance’s mistress was a real wake up call, the wool that had been pulled over your eyes that day; and it revealed a very ugly truth, that Rafael Barba was nothing more than a vile creature who had taken your love for granted and threw it back in your face, however, when you revealed the pregnancy it was merely a ploy to get Sophie to drop her guard so that he could take the opportunity to take her out of the equation.

A few days after the incident, you had started feeling nauseous and had some weird cravings for pickles and garlic knots, and that was when the gears turned in your head; so one day when your sister was at work, you trekked down to the bodega down the street from her apartment where you had purchased 3 different types of pregnancy tests. Upon your return, you anxiously awaited the results as you sat on the edge of the tub, after a few minutes, you peered down at the stick and your heart dropped.

Later that day, your sister Rebecca returned home from work where she found you on the couch curled up in a blanket; eyes shrink wrapped in tears. She set her things on the coffee table and wrapped an arm around you, she rubbed your shoulder soothingly until your tears had subsided and that was when you revealed the reason for your distress.

Meanwhile, Rafael painstakingly went about his life, despite protests from Liv and the others, in his mind it made sense to keep himself busy, that way he wouldn’t have to deal with the reality that he had lost the love of his life...and her confession of becoming an expectant mother. After the Sophie fiasco, Rafael was desperately trying to contact Charlotte, he had lost track of the many phone calls and text messages he sent her; although he couldn’t blame her...he had violated her trust in an unforgivable manner and as much as he wanted to just make everything that happened disappear, there was no way that he could reclaim the life he once had.

Rafael was sitting in his office reviewing one of his case files when his phone beeped, his emerald irises widened when he saw the message… it was the last person he expected to hear from...Charlotte.

We need to talk...meet me at the coffee shop down the street from my OB’s office

Alright...I’m on my way

Charlotte scheduled an appointment with her doctor once she had time to collect her thoughts, as she was sitting on top of the examination table, her mind drifted back to the conversation she had with Rebecca the night before...as hard as it would be, if it turned out that she was indeed pregnant, she would have to notify Rafael. At that moment, her doctor entered the room with the test results in hand, with a soft smile, she confirmed what Charlotte already knew and now it was time to have an unpleasant conversation with the man who betrayed her; as she exited the building, Charlotte texted Rafael and began making her way to the coffee shop. The front door chimed as Rafael stepped inside the establishment, his eyes scanned the enclosure for Charlotte until he saw her in the back corner, slowly, he padded towards the table where she had a coffee already waiting for him. They barely looked at one another as the world around them continued to function in its normal capacity, the tension surrounding them was so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Charlotte lightly tapped her fingers on the container housing her chamomile tea as she thought of the best way to approach the subject...finally, it was Rafael who ultimately broke the awkward silence.

“I would ask how you are doing but…”

“Then don’t” Charlotte snapped all the while maintaining her composure without breaking down into tears again, she breathed through her nose and exhaled a deep breath then blurted out:

“It’s official...I’m pregnant and your the father”

Rafael blinked as he took a moment to process the huge bombshell that was just dropped on him, although he had his suspicions, receiving actual confirmation made everything all the more real. While his first instincts were to reach out and hold Charlotte’s hand and comfort her, he knew that she would rebuff his advances, with a heavy sigh, he continued:

“Charlotte...I know there’s nothing I can say or do to make up for everything that has happened, but I just want you to know that whatever you decide...I will respect your wishes”

Charlotte replied, "Well look at you...the great Rafael Barba playing the martyr"

The venom in her voice caused Rafael to inwardly cringe while on the outside his face took on a wounded appearance.

Charlotte sighed, "I'm sorry Rafael...that was unfair of me"

"It was well deserved believe me"

She looked out the window for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts while Rafael looked on, carefully gauging her mood. Finally, she spoke:

“Look...I don’t know where we go from here...all I know is that I do want you to be a part of our child’s life and we’ll figure it out as we go along with regards to visitation and support”

Her words were like a dagger to Rafael’s heart, granted that she was willing to let him see their child, a part of him hoped that she would consider the possibility of raising their little bundle of joy together; and yet the more realistic side of him understood that once a trust has been breached, it could take a long time to rebuild or worst case scenario, one can never regain that trust. He frowned but nodded his head in agreement, upon exiting the coffee shop, they both decided that Charlotte would update Rafael on the baby’s development and went their separate ways.

6 months later…

Charlotte stares idly at the monitor as the doctor ran the ultrasound wand along her abdomen, waiting to catch a glimpse of the tiny life growing inside her, today was the day that she would find out the gender of her baby. The doctor adjusted the image on the screen to where a little grey jelly bean came into view, as she pointed out how the baby was developing on schedule, Charlotte became overwhelmed with emotion; tears began to prick in her eyes as she sniffled.

“Charlotte..are you ready to know what you are having”

“Yes, please”

The doctor clicked a few more buttons and a more clearer picture came into focus

“Congratulations Charlotte...you’re having a healthy baby girl”

The floodgates opened as tears streamed down her face, the amount of joy and love that she felt for the tiny human being inside her was astounding; at that point the doctor excused herself so she could print out the ultrasound pictures. During this moment of solitude, Charlotte’s happiness was quickly foreshadowed by the fact that this beautiful child was created out of the love that she once shared with Rafael, the man that she was set to wed before it was revealed that he had been unfaithful to her but as much as she wanted to hate him for the rest of her life...there was a part of her that still loved him and missed him very much. She quickly wiped her eyes as the doctor re-entered the room, she was handed the ultrasound pictures before gathering her belongings and leaving the examination room. She was then escorted down the hall to the reception desk, as she was finishing up with the receptionist, a familiar figure was sitting patiently in the waiting room. Upon entering, Charlotte was greeted with a smiling tall, sandy haired gentleman.

“You ready to go Charlotte”

“Ready when you are Sonny”

Sonny smiled as the two of them made their way out of the building, he helped her into his car that was parked along the sidewalk and as soon as he was in the driver’s seat; he started the ignition and drove off. A few months prior, Sonny had ran into you while grocery shopping at the local market, the two of you exchanged pleasantries and even agreed to meet up for lunch later on that week and ever since then, Sonny was like a Godsend. Whenever you were feeling overwhelmed or you just needed someone to talk to, he would always be there. He even invited you over to his place a couple of times where he would share with you the many culinary delights from mama Carisi and cuddle up on the couch and binge watched on various movies involving tragic romances. Sonny meandered down the streets of downtown Manhattan while Charlotte looked out the passenger window watching the buildings pass by, her mind a jumbled mess with everything that has happened, she finds herself in one hell of a moral dilemma. It was almost as if Sonny could read her mind because when they came to traffic light, he looked over to her and asked:

“Is everything ok?”

With a heavy sigh, Charlotte replied, “I don’t know Sonny...how can you miss someone who dismantled everything you once knew to be true...who you gave your heart and soul to, only to have it torn apart…”

He frowned as he put the car in gear and continued driving towards her apartment, “I know what Barba did was inexcusable…but I’ve seen him in the office and he puts up a good front but deep down I know he misses you terribly and would give his soul to be with you again”

Charlotte smiled softly, knowing that Rafael still cared for her brought some comfort, but the underlying question was that if she reunited with Rafael...how does she know that she can trust him again. The car came to a stop outside her apartment building, and they began their ascent up the elevator then as they reached her floor, they strolled down the hall towards her door; Charlotte settled down on the couch while Carisi prepared dinner. The aroma of cooked pasta and oregano filled the room, after chowing down on their exquisite feast, Charlotte and Carisi planted themselves on the couch and browsed through Netflix until they decided on a romantic comedy with Jude Law and Julia Roberts.

They were well into the movie when there was a knock at the door, Sonny got up and looked through the peephole and then opened the door a crack where in his line of sight he was welcomed by his colleague in a three piece suit; the well rounded and sassy ADA known as Rafael Barba. The two men nodded at one another upon entry, Charlotte carefully sat up and stood in the middle of the living room, there was a moment of awkward silence before Sonny spoke:

“Well I’m going to run down to the store real quick, we ran out of milk”

And with that, Sonny grabbed his coat and left, Rafael and Charlotte looked at each other with weariness in each other’s eyes, not knowing what to say or do. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Rafael broke the ice:

“How are you feeling?”

“For the most part, I feel tired and gross”

Rafael snorted, “If you don’t mind me saying...I think you are still the most beautiful woman to ever walk this Earth”

Charlotte blushed at his words, she forgot that he could be pretty charming when he wanted to be, she fiddled with her fingers as she sat back down on the couch. Rafael soon joined her but kept his distance.

“Listen...the reason I came over was to tell you that I’m happy for you and Carisi”

Charlotte furrowed her brows, “Excuse me”

“He’s a good man...and I know that he’ll take care of you the way you deserve to be...and I think we can make this whole co-parenting situation work as long as there is an open communication with one another”

Charlotte grinned and began giggling, at the same time, Rafael looked on with puzzlement.

“Did I miss something?”

Once she sobered up, she replied, “Rafael...I’m not dating Sonny, we’re just friends”

“But everyone at the precinct has been saying how close you both have gotten and that it was only a matter of time before…”

“Look Rafael...these last six months have been hard and as much as I want to hate you with every fiber of my being, I’ve come to realize that I still love you and I miss you so much”

Rafael gazed upon Charlotte’s face, slowly he brought up his hand and cradled her face, his thumb caressed her cheek as she leaned into his touch. He pulled himself closer to her until their faces were inches apart, he gave her a hesitant kiss on her lips but from there it gained momentum. All those months apart, the longing and need spilled out into the fiery, passionate kisses but then they reluctantly broke the kiss in need for air; their eyes connected for a brief moment until Rafael spoke again:

“I love you Charlotte...and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you...if you’ll have me”

Charlotte desperately wanted to believe him, and while she was unsure as to what the future held for them, all she knew was that she couldn't imagine a life without Rafael in it.

“We have some work to do, but I am willing to give us another try”

#rafael barba x reader #reconciliation #I'm so sorry this took forever for me to get posted #hopefully you all enjoy

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ineloqueent · 4 years

Text

Starstruck: Part 2

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 2 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 1 / Part 3

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing, slight sentiments of sadness

Historical Inaccuracies:

I realise that ‘Time Waits For No One’ was partially a composition by Dave Clark, and not only by Freddie, but I’d imagine that he’d have liked that whole concept anyway, before Clark came along with his musical.

The picture below is from Christmas Eve, 1969, but we’re going to pretend that it’s from February, 1975 :)

Word Count: 4.3k

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

You awoke with a terrible sadness in your heart, and heavy-limbed, you climbed out of bed to the sound of rain and somebody making coffee in the kitchen. With a look at your alarm clock and a start, you realised that it was already ten minutes past eleven.

You traded your pyjamas for slacks and a jumper Heather had once knitted for you, wondering why melancholy overwhelmed you as you combed your hair from your eyes.

Dazed by sleep, you wandered into the kitchen with a yawn shuddering your frame. You blinked blearily at the shirtless blonde in your kitchen who was drumming his fingers on the counter along to the tune he hummed.

“Roger?” you said, confounded.

He spun around with an equally bewildered expression, his hands raised as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

His features broadened into a smile. “Y/N! You live here too?”

“Too?” you said. “Who else do you know here? And put on a shirt, Rog. You’re dressed if you’re in my kitchen.”

Roger stuck out his tongue at you, but pulled his shirt from where it’d been slung over a barstool.

You returned his lovely expression and he rolled his eyes at you in good nature.

You’d known Roger since you’d started at Imperial College and he’d started at London Hospital Medical College; you’d met him at the stall he kept in Kensington Market, selling clothes. Always talking about cars and his love for them, Roger was funny and charming, and quite intelligent, though the latter was a thing he downplayed in favour of his looks. You had never understood why boys thought that girls didn’t want a smart boyfriend, and when you’d mentioned it to Roger off-handedly once, visiting on a day he was working at the stall, he’d simply shrugged. “I’ll get them one way or another,” he’d winked.

Then, a sophisticated, sunkissed lad who was folding clothes had snorted from behind a clothing rack. “You won’t get her,” he’d said, referring to you. He’d then introduced himself with, “Freddie Mercury, darling. I can tell you where to find the nice boys, because Rog here isn’t one of them.” Freddie, of East Ealing Art College, was shy but creative, fashionable, and utterly lovely. He had known Roger since before school, and, aside from the clothing stand with Rog, was also in a band with him and a couple of others. Roger played the drums, and you knew that Freddie was an incredible vocalist, because you’d once caught him humming to himself and demanded he sing you more. You had fit right in with Roger and Freddie since day one, with your sharp wit and passionate romanticisms, and the three of you had quickly become good friends.

“So who’s the lucky lady?” you said, putting the kettle on for tea. For some reason, you didn’t feel like coffee this morning. The thought of its bitterness suddenly drew bitterness from you. “Or should I say ladies?” you trilled.

Roger smirked, leaned against the kitchen counter. “No, just the one lady. Think she’s still asleep, though, so try to keep it down,” he shushed.

You shook your head at him. “If she knows what you look like, she knows what you’re like, Rog. Don’t think you’ve got anyone fooled.”

“You’re such a good friend, Y/N. So supportive,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Funny,” you said, “I was told exactly the same thing last night, but I think he meant it, at least.”

Roger winced. “No getting down for you, then?”

You lobbed a coaster at him, but he caught it. “You need to stop just throwing things when you can’t think of anything to say, Y/N.”

“Stop being a prick, then,” you sassed him back.

“Okay, grumpy girl. Just because your little friend didn’t like you back.”

“For your information, he was actually very tall.”

A soft padding sound reached you from the doorway, and you glanced over to see Heather appear in the doorway, her mane of hair sticking up to one side and her pyjama top only half-buttoned.

“The hell is it with you people and shirts?” you muttered. “You’d think your mothers never taught you how to dress yourselves.”

Roger laughed at your comment, and Heather looked between the two of you.

“You know each other?” she said.

“Heather, honestly?” you scoffed. “My friend Roger who works down at the stall in Kensington?”

“Oh,” she said. “Same Roger?” You just blinked at her. “Common name,” she shrugged.

“You two know each other?” you gestured between her and Roger.

Roger’s smile was easy; he turned to Heather and his eyes ran over her, his lower lip between his teeth. Heather’s body language was obviously responsive.

“Ugh, no!” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Not a good image.”

“I thought we looked quite good together,” Heather flirted to Roger as you shuddered.

“Please don’t. Least not before breakfast,” you groaned, sliding off of the barstool as the kettle boiled.

Heather giggled, and you could still see Roger looking at her in your peripheral vision.

You busied yourself with making tea and pouring it into a thermos. Roger had walked over to kiss Heather, and you couldn’t get away from the sight of your two friends necking fast enough.

“I’m going out,” you said, grabbing the thermos, your keys, and boots.

“Oh, any chance you’re going to see Freddie?” said Roger from the doorway to the hall, arms around Heather.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Got a message for him.”

“Could you not just telephone him?”

“There’s no phone at the stall.”

“Later, then?”

Roger frowned. “It’s important, please?”

You sighed heavily. “Fine, but only because I’m such a good friend,” you mimicked his words from earlier. “What is it, then?”

Roger grinned. “Tell him Clements says okay and eight o’clock sharp.”

Your puzzled expression seemed to amuse him. “I was going to tell you, but I’m sure Freddie will.” He waved a hand. “I haven’t got time right now.”

“You haven’t— oh forget it.” He’d gone back to snogging Heather, and there was simply no point in nagging him when it would be faster just to find Freddie.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Fred?” you poked your head around the stall, trying to spot him between the racks of colourful jackets and corduroy trousers, but failing for the life of you.

He popped up from underneath the table and you nearly leapt from your skin.

“Oh, hello, darling! How lovely of you to visit me,” he beamed, smoothing hair back from his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Jesus, Freddie, you scared me,” you exhaled laboriously, still recovering from your shock.

“Sorry about that, dearie. I’m afraid I’ve upset the moneybox and spilled it all under the table,” he said with an expression of dismay. “Help me look?”

You eyed your already questionably-clean trousers. “Yeah, alright then,” you said, squeezing into the stall beside Freddie. “Any idea how much was in there?” you asked as you sank to your knees.

Freddie lifted the cloth covering the table and threw it to the side. “Afraid not. Deacy usually handles finances and all that, after Norman Sheffield’s fuckery at Trident, y’know.”

You knew the soft-eyed, cheeky John Deacon as well. As the bassist in Freddie and Roger’s band and student of electrical engineering, Deacy (as he was known) was simultaneously the most well-mannered boy you’d ever encountered and also the greatest connoisseur of dirty jokes. Despite being only a year younger than you and Roger, Deacy was Freddie’s protegé, in a way, because Freddie had taken the younger boy under his wing in matters both of the musical world and of the world in general. You were quite sure that Freddie believed Deacy to be an innocent in need of protection, and that Deacy intended to keep his precious mentor fooled, particularly because some of the disco nightclubs that John had shown you and Rog suggested rather the opposite of his supposed personality. All in all, he was as dear to you as Freddie and Rog.

You laughed. “Freddie, this is just little coins. I’m sure you would’ve been okay to look after that.”

“Yes, well, not much time to count money when the most handsome men in London seem to stroll through this here market almost constantly,” Freddie huffed indignantly and you smiled in amusement. “Are you looking?” he said.

“Yes, yes,” you assured him, hastily picking up the coins in your immediate line of sight before beginning to scavenge for those which had rolled farther away on their escape routes.

“So, why are you here? I know you like our lovely little shop, but you’re usually studying on Saturdays.”

You sighed. “I probably should be. But Roger’s shacked it up with one of my housemates, my roommate, actually—”

“Heather?”

“Yeah, Heather.”

“Oh yes, he’s definitely her type,” gushed Freddie, spotting another coin and tossing it into the moneybox gleefully.

“He’s hers?” you said.

Freddie peered at you. “Well, really, Y/N. Roger’s type is everyone.”

“Fair enough,” you nodded. “And, oh,” you remembered, “I have a message for you, from Rog.”

“Ah. What’s it, then?”

“Uh, it seemed kind of cryptic, but he said you’d understand.” Freddie motioned for you to go on. “Let’s see. ‘Clements says okay and eight o’clock sharp’,” you quoted.

Freddie paused in his treasure hunt and clapped, “Oh, excellent!”

“Fill me in?” you pleaded finally, weary with excitement for that which you did not know.

Freddie clasped his hands. “We’re playing a gig, tonight, at the Union Bar!” he exclaimed. “We normally don’t play that small any longer, what with our increasing popularity, but we thought it would be nice to do a bit of an intimate concert once more, before we shoot for the stars and lose that privilege entirely.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” you said, knowing you were free tonight. You’d always wanted to see their band Queen, but the circumstances had never really lined up for you to do so, though Freddie had even offered for you to sit in on their rehearsals many a time.

“And you can finally meet our last puzzle piece!” said Freddie, his eyes alight. “Oh, he’ll adore you. Have I mentioned he’s studying some sort of science too? Maybe even similar to what you’re doing. I always seem to forget the name of it, though Bri is quite particular about it. He’d positively kill me with that glower of his if he knew I’d forgotten the name of it again. Oh, bugger,” Freddie went on. “It’s something to do with space. It’s on the tip of my tongue, I swear—”

But something had clicked inside of your head, and your palms felt oddly sweaty.

Freddie and Roger and Deacy had always referred to their fourth bandmate as simply ‘Bri’ or ‘Brimi’, or, in Fred’s case, ‘that bitch’, and so it had not occurred to you. You hadn’t known what he’d looked like, or anything about him, really, other than that he was a talented guitarist of a short temper and a motherly heart. But now you realised, with a fluttering sensation to accompany the thought, that you knew precisely who Brimi was, and that you had practically memorised his smile from seeing it nearly every morning of the past semester. Now, suddenly, the calloused fingers you had held in your own made perfect sense— Brian, the guitarist.

“Astrophysics,” you murmured softly.

“I’m sorry?” said Freddie, who had only just stopped in his flood of excited words.

“Astrophysics,” you repeated more loudly.

Freddie’s brow creased. “Yes, yes that’s it. I’d better commit it to memory, now. But how’d you know that? I’m sure I’ve never actually managed to tell you. I would’ve remembered such a momentous occasion.”

Your head felt suddenly quiet, though the thrum of your heart was sure to replace that silence with its own deafening beat.

You looked away, combing your fingers through your hair. “We’ve got the same morning class for our major,” you said, “and, uh, yesterday evening, when Heather went off with Roger, Brian and I had a drink together.”

Freddie gasped so vehemently that your eyes flashed back to him to be sure that he wasn’t suffering a fit or something.

“In that case, I’m sure he adores you already.”

“Freddie!”

“Think about it, Y/N! You’re both besotted by an absolutely absurd science that makes no fucking sense, and you’re friends with me and Roger and Deac already, so you must’ve gotten along like wildfire and a dry forestscape!”

“Freddie, that’s a horrible analogy.”

“That may be so, darling, but from the light in your eyes, you know what I mean.”

A strange blush engulfed your cheeks and you touched your fingers to your face, willing the flush to disappear. It didn’t.

“No idea what you’re on about,” you said.

“There’s still time.”

“Still time for what?”

Freddie threw his hands into the air. “For things to happen.”

“Nothing did and nothing will,” you countered, a little sternly.

“You’ll be lying to me before the month is through. I’ll find you more time with him, if that’s what you need.”

You ignored Freddie’s suggestive comments. “Time waits for no one,” you remarked instead.

“Now that’s a good line, isn’t it? Do you use it often, or would you mind terribly if I made something of it?” Freddie inquired.

“Pretty sure it’s a rather common expression, but I’m sure you’ll make something wonderful of it,” you said fondly, knowing his poetic habits.

Freddie winked at you. “I’ll certainly do my best. Now, I think we’ve got all the coins, so I say we get off of this filthy floor that the dust bunnies appear to have taken over, or what’s your view on the matter?”

“Time to depart the good Realm of Floor,” you agreed, stretching your creaking legs and giving Freddie a hand up.

“So you’re coming tonight, yes?” Freddie brushed dust and lint from his velvet trousers.

“Of course,” you said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“You’ve missed all the other times, though,”

“I know, Fred,” you exhaled softly. “But I—”

Freddie’s hand covered your shoulder. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, darling. We’re friends, remember?” he smiled comfortingly.

“And friends will be friends,” you responded, as you and the others had taken to saying, originally as a gag, but now as a sort of mantra to keep you going through the harder days.

Freddie smiled again. “Are you busy, or do you fancy going for lunch?”

“Sounds good,” you said. “Where were you thinking?”

“Just the pub. You know how much I enjoy their fish ‘n’ chips.” He meant Kensington Pub.

“Oh yes,” you recalled it very well. “I know.”

“Excellent! Well, I’ll just tidy up quickly and close, and we can be on our way.” You nodded, helping him to rearrange a few out-of-place things before he waved you off. “You don’t work here, dearie. We can talk about dear ol’ Brian while you wait for me, if you like.”

“Clearly, you’re the one who’s obsessed with him.”

“I won’t dispute that. He’s rather nice when he’s not attempting to control every little note of our music.”

“Which is... often?” you said.

Freddie nodded with ardour. “He’s got taste, mind you, but sometimes that taste just gets overbearing, if you know what I mean,” his tone was cheeky.

You folded your arms and leaned against the wall. “No, Freddie, I’ve entirely no clue what you mean.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

After lunch, the two of you took the tube from Kensington Station to Freddie’s flat.

Freddie opened the door to several different cats meowing at the return of their human, and he greeted each one by name, rubbing fluffy backs and scratching behind waiting ears as he passed.

The cats had encountered you many times before, and though many had at first been apprehensive at the presence of an outsider, they now greeted you as one of their own.

“I thought maybe you’d like to borrow a couple of our records to listen to before the concert tonight,” Freddie said, tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter and making his way over to where his record player and vinyl collection resided. He gestured to the crates and stacks of records, encouraging you to take a look while he retrieved Queen’s own works.

Despite the fact that your household contained a total of eleven people, Freddie’s music collection was far more impressive than that of your residence. Jimi Hendrix, Elvis, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Aretha Franklin seemed to dominate the collection, but there was a heavy presence of classical and operatic compositions too, from Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet to Chopin.

“You have so many records,” you said, wishing there was more room in your monthly budget to spend on records, music that you could replay as much as you wanted, rather than waiting for— hoping for— the radio to cycle through your favourites.

“I’ve spent many years building up my collection,” Freddie told you, as though he knew what you were thinking and wished to remind you that such collections were not accumulated overnight; there was still all the time in the world for you to develop your own reserve of records.

“Ah, here we are!” he slid three volumes from a shelf, smiling fondly at the covers. “We’re not The Beatles, but I daresay we’re quite fantastic all the same.” He handed you the records, and you took them with care.

The first was mauve in colour scheme and depicted a person hoisting a sheared microphone stand into the air, illuminated by a singular dramatic spotlight. The second was a highly-contrasted rendering of all four members of Queen in (once more) spectacular lighting, and diamond formation. The third and final was all of them again, lying in a strange circular heap, eyes intense and skin shining with what was likely supposed to be sweat.

Your eyes strayed to Brian on the cover of the third album, the neck of his shirt pulled open, his lips parted and his eyes dazed. The image was suggestive, and Brian was attractive.

Blinking stray thoughts away, you tucked the last album behind the others and cleared your throat as subtly as you could manage. But Freddie had not thought you subtle; he grinned at you astutely.

“Rock and roll, then?” you said, though you already knew the answer. The point was, you were trying to change the subject.

“Rock ‘n’ roll,” Freddie emphasised. “We’ll have you educated in no time, don’t you worry. Homework is listening to those records. Come back again soon and I’ll swap you some Led Zeppelin and Aretha Franklin.”

“Varying taste,” you commented, desperately trying to coerce your mind from its previous focus.

“We’ve got to expand yours,” Freddie said. “Now go home and listen! We can’t have you standing mute and still in the crowd tonight! I plan on making sure you get up front, but I need energy from you for that to be justified, Y/N.”

“Okay, Mercury,” you smirked. “Such high standards, so demanding.”

Freddie sighed, “Got to be, darling. How else would I augment the quality of my music?”

“I’m definitely out of my depth here, Fred.”

He patted your shoulder. “Get out and go home and listen,” he said.

You made a face and Freddie stuck out his tongue at you. “See you later, dearie. Tell Brendan Clements when you arrive and he’ll get you past the crowds.”

“Fab. Later, Freddie.” You gave him a wave as you departed and he blew you a kiss.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You supposed there was one good thing about Heather and Roger’s newfound relations. Well, maybe two.

The first was that you knew Roger and he knew you, and he knew that you would dye his hair permanently peroxide green if he ever hurt Heather intentionally.

The second was that, after this morning, Heather and Roger had headed off to Roger’s place for a few days, meaning that you were free to dance around your room to whatever music you wished without suffering shyness and embarrassment about your moves when you were inevitably discovered. Your other housemates worked most days, and conveniently, your shifts at the local cafe did not coincide with the absences of your household; you would now have the house to yourself quite a bit.

Having abandoned your boots by your wardrobe, you picked up the first record, simply titled Queen.

“Memorable already,” you murmured, feeling oddly exhilarated.

The record was on the deck by your bed within moments, and you flopped down atop your covers to enjoy the music in one of the purest ways you knew how— by lying back on your bed and spreading your arms and letting the melodies carry you away.

The energy kicked in immediately, and to the vivacity of the music you would have sold your soul.

Freddie’s voice was unrelentingly powerful, and unmatchable in beauty. You caught hints of Roger and Brian singing between the thrum of Deacy’s bass lines, their own instruments, and Freddie’s lead vocals, and the effect of the four of them together was unforgettable, astronomical, meant to make history.

Their talent as musicians was riveting if appreciated on its own, but Queen were artists too. How they could have thought up the stories they told, both through lyrics and without any words at all, you did not know.

Record after record, their voices rose together like waves, rushing over you and tossing you in their midst. You felt you were made of stardust, not only in the sense that everything of the past was still atomically part of everything present, but also in the metaphorical way; you felt light and heavenly, like you were floating above the ground, dancing on clouds.

Most of Queen’s songs, to your delight, made you want to dance— the best music made one want to dance. The songs that didn’t make you want to dance made you feel other emotions entirely— they moved you to tears.

By the time ‘In the Lap of the Gods… Revisited’ had signalled the end of Sheer Heart Attack, you had curled up on your side, gazing unblinkingly at the slowing vinyl. It wouldn’t have been too far off to say that listening to Queen's music felt like a transcendental experience.

When the needle passed the final break in the record’s surface and met the space between the break and the record’s central label, you leapt up. Immediately, you swapped the last record for the first, so as to begin the cycle of listening again. You wanted to, needed to, hear it all again.

How lucky you felt, to be going to the concert of such artists the very same night, and how serendipitous it felt to not only know, but to be friends with these artists.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You had dabbed your eyelids with silver and outlined them in black, the way Freddie had taught you to, though you had never worn your makeup so until now. Your dress was a cotton-tulle mix, black and bell-sleeved, and spotted with flecks of silver like little stars; the effect was somewhere between casual and glam. A good balance, if you should be so bold as to say. Platform sandals completed the regalia, which you felt was a fitting way to describe the outfit which one wore to the concert of a band named Queen.

Between your third and fourth cycles of the three Queen albums, Heather had rung the telephone in the hallway across from your room.

“Hello, gorgeous!”

“Hiya, Heather,” you greeted her cheerily.

“I’ve been out all day, so I’m sorry if you’ve tried to get hold of me.”

“I’ve been out for a good many hours as well. Hope you didn’t miss me too terribly,” you sniggered.

“Pish posh. Not in the slightest. Been making out with Rog—”

“Stop right there, Heather.”

She made kissing sounds on the other end of the line.

“Remind me why you’re calling again?” you said, half-jokingly, half-seriously. Half-seriously because it was getting dreadfully close to eight o’clock, to Queen playing at the Union Bar. “And where are you, anyway?

“Calling to tell you Roger and his band are playing at the Union tonight, and to ask if you’re coming. I’m currently at said drummer’s place getting ready to tag along for said concert.”

“‘Course I’m coming,” you said. “Finest new musicians I’ve heard in years.”

Heather snorted. “You sound like my grandfather— top of the morning to you— finest musicians!” she laughed.

“Just because you haven’t actually heard their music yet,” you reprimanded her.

“About to. So this Freddie told you about the concert, like Roger said he would.”

“Yeah, our friend Freddie.”

“Oh. Oh god, Y/N, I’m fucking stupid. It’s the same guys as you usually talk about. I forget that. It’s like my mind thinks they’re part of some alternate reality, or something.”

“Please tell me you’re not on LSD.”

“No! I promised you I wouldn’t do anything silly for a month. You said LSD counted as silly, so despite being surrounded by all sorts of rockstars, I’m currently stone cold sober in every sense of the word.”

“Unfortunately, it appears you’re still under the effects of Roger Meddows Taylor,” you laughed.

“Shush, Y/N. He’ll think I’m some wacko already in love with him on day one.”

“You are a little bit, though, aren’t you?”

You could almost see her roll her eyes, see yourself respond with a knowing smile toward the insight that she was forever downplaying her emotions to seem less of a romantic than she was. But she was a romantic. Very much so. And she got her heart broken far too often for someone who loved as much and as wholly, as unconditionally, as she did.

“See you in a bit, mwah,” Heather kissed the phone and you cursed her loudness. She laughed at your string of obscenities and put down the phone.

With a final look in the mirror, hoping that your fashion choices had not been too bold, you swept out the door and into the night.

‧⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

A/N: hello beautiful! thanks for reading this. just send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

taglist: @melting-obelisks @stardust-killer-queen @hgmercury39 @topsecretdeacon

Masterpost / Part 1 / Part 3

#tina’s writing #starstruck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fanfiction #1975 #1970s #fic

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greatsweet98 · 4 years

Text

"She-Ra and The Princesses Of Power" Character Escape Game

starts now!

The 33 characters simultaneously woke up in a dark room, that turned out to be unexpected. But since it's a room, there'll be light. A lightbulb is hanged up at the ceiling, and it needs a light switch to turn it on. As the 33 characters woke up......

Catra: *screams* Where am I?

Adora: *gasps in shock* What? Catra?

The red-eyed Hordak: What in Etheria is the place?

Kyle: What the heck? Why is everyone? (notices Rogelio & Lonnie) Rogelio? Lonnie?

At this moment, everyone there start to notice each other by their voices and fearly shivers, until someone accidently flips the light switch that turns the lightbulb on, that made everyone there scream in surprise and shock.

Micah: Glimmer? Sister?

Glimmer: Dad?

Castaspella: Brother?

Micah's daughter & his sister found him and hugged him. He hughed them back, then they broke the hug.

Glimmer: Dad, where are we?

Micah: I don't know, babygirl.

The "wrong" Hordak: Why are we here in a room full of nothing but us?

Madame Razz: (halfly sees Adora while faces at look) Adora, is that you?

Catra: Ugh, (gets frustrated) is this gonna be another Horde Prime "expirement".

Scorpia: Um, I don't know, Adora told me that she and Catra already taken Horde Prime down. But luckily, one of Horde Prime's bots is regenerated into good affliation to have a lucky friend to Entrapta?

The Busgirl: Where are we, Baker?

Baker: I don't know. How about you, Soda Pop?

Soda Pop: Me neither.

Everyone start noticed each other by friends by known-people and start asking questions in the same topic of the unexpected place they're in.

Adora: May I have everyone's attention?

Swift Wind: Huh? (turns to Adora)

Double Trouble: *rolls his eyes* Ugh, what is it?

Adora stands in front of everyone else to preach everyone. And everyone else faced at Adora.

Adora: Ok, here we go again.

Frosta: Adora, where are we?

Starla: And how did we get here?

Huntara: And who brought us here?

George & Lance: Who?

Perfuma: Please answer the question, who?

Adora: Ok, everyone, be quiet!

Everyone else starts shutting their mouths, well not everyone since one of them don't have mouths (Emily only, because she's Entrapta's robot).

Adora: I know you all have been asking the same question, and also do I. I know you all have been finding the answer, and also do I. I also don't know where we are, but if anyone else brought us here the way in, the way in is also the way out. I don't where is it, but it's better if we work together as one huge team. If we work together, since there's many of us, we may be able to answer our questions during our route on finding our way out.

At this point, everyone else hesitated to respond. But,

Catra: I may also have something to add, guys.

Everyone "huh?-ed" and turned to Catra.

Catra: I think Adora is right. Although, we may don't know where we are right now, but we can still figure it out and answer the question you've all been asking if we worked together. They say that "teamwork makes the dream work". (turns and smiles to Adora as a support to her)

*Adora smiled back at her*

Adora: So, who's in?

Everyone else, other than Catra & Adora, hesitated again to respond.

Netossa: *after 4 seconds of thinking* I'm in.

Micah: *after 3 seconds* I'm also in.

Jewelstar: Me too.

Kyle: Me three.

*Rogelio roars in a talk way*

Entrapta: Me four!

Everyone else responded to join to be part of Adora's teamwork & responsibility "organization".

Adora: So, who's ready to work together?

*everyone cheered in triumph*

Adora: I'm glad.

Castaspella: Ok, we're now working together, but is there a door or a secret passage here?

Adora: (🤔) Hmmm....if we're in a room full of nothing. There should be an activation of a secret door or secret passage here.

While Scorpia is behind Bow at the "audience area facing Adora", Scorpia notices a note taped on Bow's back part of his "hero suit".

Scorpia: Um, Bow, is that a note behind you?

Bow: Huh? *tries to feel the note om his back by his hands* What the? No one noticed it the entire time?

Madame Razz: Oh, I think I barely did.

Adora: *gasps in surprise* Bow, you have a note there! (to Scorpia) Scorpia, take it off of him.

*Scorpia takes the note off of Bow and gives it to her*

Adora: (reads the message) Hmmmm....there's a message.

Castaspella: Can I read the message?

Adora: Um, *after 2 seconds of thinking* sure. I'll let you read this time.

Castaspella: Thanks. (smiles at her and reads the message)

Castaspella: "As you've wondering where you are right now, you're somewhere in Etheria but I'm sure you haven't found this nowhere in Etheria. At first, you'll be trapped in a dark room because you all gonna be play an escape game."

Glimmer: Escape game?

The "wrong" Hordak: Wait, we're playing a game?

Entrapta: But it's an escape game.

Glimmer: Aunt Casta, please continue reading.

Castaspella: Ok, Glimmer. (continues reading the message) "There are levels to go through to find your way out. Here's the worst part yet good later on, everytime all of you proceed to the next level, a number of you will be eliminated if you don't finish the level, challenge, or you're the last one to make it. You don't die in this reality and in this escape, once you're eliminated, you'll be put in a cage to wait for the last player uncaged to finish the last level to free all the eliminators and made your way out. For your first task, since you're trapped in a room, find a button. By, "the creator"."

Sea Hawk: Ok at first I thought we're gonna die here, but....we'll be put in a cage if we're eliminated?

Mermista: To be honest, that's kinda good and random and a bit scary.

Perfuma: I know.

Bow: (sees Adora thinking) Adora?

Adora: (🤔) Hmmm.....find a button?

*Emily (the robot) squeaking*

*Melog talks in his creature language that no one understands but Catra*

Entrapta: Ok everyone, find a button here!

Not to mention, the room isn't too small or too big for them, it's just like the size of a combination of the size of a house living room & the size of a house kitchen. As of by now, everyone tries to find a button around the room, possibly camouflaged, until Soda Pop accidently push something on the wall (which could be the button). As he does it, a trapdoor magically appeared in the middle of the room before everyone noticed it after a second, and the room starts to shrink by the ceiling going down. The distance from the "33" to the ceiling is 5 feet, and it goes down by 0.5 ft per 15 seconds (so it takes 150 s./2 min. & 30 s. to hit the ground). They saw the trapdoor and have no choice to do.

Adora: Quick, everyone at the trapdoor now!

Everyone listened to Adora and went on the trapdoor, but it's locked with a code keypad.

Frosta: (shouting) What? It's locked by a code? Come on!

Adora: (examines the keypad, turns it around as sees something written on the back of it) *gasps* Guys, here's a clue for the code.

Scorpia, Entrapta, Glimmer, Catra, & Kyle viewd the clue with Adora.

It turns out to be a math equation.

Castaspella: Hmmmm...four hundred twenty-six thousand, nine hundred seventeen.

Lance: Plus three hundred fifty-two thousand, one hundred thirty.

Lonnie: Subtracted by two hundred six thousand, nine hundred fourteen.

Frosta: Ok, I'm not that good at mathematics, but I can solve it. Anybody knows the answer?

Everybody else of the "33": (🤔)

After they're all thinking of their mathematic skills, they pawn out their answers.

Here are their answers:

Castaspella: Um...476,283

Frosta: Uh, 500 thousand something. Maybe like 572,133?

Micah: Hmmm...I might have the same answer as Frosta, '572,133'. Because I use my brain.

The "wrong" Hordak: I think I agree with that lady named Castaspella, I think? She said it was four hundred seventy-six thousand something.

Catra: I guess it's 572,133.

Adora: 572,133. Yep!

Glimmer: No, it couldn't be. It's 568,203. I think that's my answer. Oh wait, it could also be 572,133.

Baker, Soda Pop, & Busgirl: We agree with the majority, our answer is 572,133.

Swift Wind: 572,133.

Madame Razz: Maybe it's eight!

Kyle: My answer is around 600 thousand something.

Lonnie: Pffft, *chuckles teasingly as friend* it's 572,133! Use your math brain, Kyle!

*Rogelio roars talkatively agreeing within the majority*

The "red-eyed" Hordak: Wait, it could be 568,203. Glimmer's right!

Perfuma: 572,134?

Mermista: 572,133. My final answer.

Sea Hawk: I agree with my dearest love! Five hundred seventy two thousand, one hundred thirty-three! (puts his arm around Mermista's neck) Right, dearie?

Mermista: (rolls eyes) Ugh, yeah! And duh!

Double Trouble: I'm not good at math, but I'll take a guess. Promise, to be honest, I'm not cheating or copying anyone's answers, okay? My guess is the same with the minority, 572,133. I tried using my brain.

Spinnerella: 572,133?

Netossa: No, wait, I think it's 572,133. (to her wife) You're right, Spinny.

George & Lance: We kinda thought it's 572,133.

Huntara: Maybe I agree with Kyle, it's somewhere in the 600,000s.

Starla, Jewelstar, & Tallstar: Umm...we don't have an answer. But we guess you guys mostly have the same answer by most of you. We don't even know the answer.

Entrapta: Before the first person said their answer, T.B.H., my answer is exactly 572,133.

Scorpia: Uhhh...*puts her claws together side by side like this 👉👈*...maybe Kyle's right. It's in 600,000s. Probably 672,133.

Bow: I don't have an answer. I think my answer might be wrong, mine is 572,133.

*Melog & Emily shake their heads*

Entrapta: (notices Melog & Emily doing that) Looks like Melog & Emily don't know the answer but I do.

Catra: Okay, the majority goes for 572,133. *gets closer to the keypad* Should I type '572133' as the code?

Frosta, Micah, Adora, Baker, Soda Pop, Busgirl, Swift Wind, Lonnie, Mermista, Sea Hawk, Double Trouble, Spinnerella, Netossa, George, Lance, Entrapta, & Bow: YES!

Glimmer: No! Wait, yes, I think. *sighs* Just do it, Catra. Maybe my answer is wrong, *puts her finger on her mouth) but it could be right.

WHO GOT THE RIGHT ANSWER/ANSWERS TO THE MATH EQUATION?

SHOULD CATRA TYPE '572,133' AS THE CODE, OR REFUSE IT?

Because there's 2 minutes & 30 seconds left for the ceiling to squeeze them!

It's your decision in the comment section! Hurry!

You may reblog this if you want to!

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s-j-ace · 4 years

Text

The Same Question

Chapter Four

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 10040

Summary:

After Detective Shuichi Saihara encounters mysterious thief Kokichi Ouma for the first time, a game of cat and mouse ensues as both men ask themselves the same question. Why exactly does the elusive phantom thief do what he does?

This is Chapter Four, Here are Chapters One, Two, and Three

Read on AO3

[Log of Text Messages from Rantarou Amami’s Cellular Device]

From: Me

Hey Miu

I got a friend I’m dropping off in Taipei tomorrow

Could you lend him a room

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Idk

I’m a busy genius

Is he cute

From: Me

[Image description: A candid photo of Shuichi Saihara sleeping on a seat in Rantarou’s private jet.]

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Hell fucking yes

From: Me

Awesome!

Thanks for being a good friend Miu

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

From: Me

Also btw

He’s Kaede’s ex

So as a good friend you know he’s off limits right

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Oh fuck you rich boy

From: Me

Thanks again Miu! --- [Log of Messages sent via Discord to “Dinosaur soccer world Is a Cinematic Epic” from ???’s Cellular Device]

Boss sent an image to the chat

[Image is a screenshot of an image which reads the following:

Draft 1, Uncoded, DO NOT MAIL.

Taka, sweetie, it’s me! Your dear Aunt Sally. I know you think I died in the war, but I just pretended so I wouldn’t have to see your ugly face again.

You know I was robbing a museum the other day and I met the nicest young man. Real sharp and very nice eyelashes. And what a quick learner!

Oh, Sorry! I don’t mean to belittle you Taka, dearie, I know how your mother used to say you worked so hard to compete with the geniuses of the world…

You’ve still got a lot of work to do, I think. It must be that Type A personality of yours, holding you back. I’ve heard there’s a new class for people like you, “How to take the giant metal stick out of your ass 101.”

I can’t wait for the next family reunion! I hear it’s going to be a bomb! I’ll be in the open casket.

See you there,

-DICE

/End Image Description]

Boss: Thoughts, thots?

Jack: Lol “nice eyelashes”

Clubs: It looks good. :)

Rook: Looks fine to me

King: Why is his aunt’s name Sally, isn’t he japanese

Boss: Sally can be a japanese name

Spades: I can’t even say an l sound. It’s impossible for us japanese smh.

Rook: I thought u were lesbian not japanese

Bishop: I’ve seen you speak perfect english

Spades: lol seen

King: seen

Boss: seen

Jack: seen

Rook: seen

Bishop: I meant heard ok

Boss: oh nvm actually i'm going to change it to his grandpa’s name

Boss: his grandpa has a wikipedia page lol

King: if your grandpa has a wikipedia page you deserve to be oppressed

Queen: if you have a grandpa you deserve to be oppressed

Rook: if your wikipedia page has a grandpa you deserve to be oppressed

Bishop: if you have a wikipedia page your grandpa deserves to be oppressed

Spades: if your grandpa has a you wikipedia deserves to be oppressed

Bishop: Also boss no pressure but like could we use a better code this time

Bishop: that detective is getting too close for comfort

Spades: Yeah!! We didn’t even end up getting that rug Heartsie wanted because of him…

Clubs: If we did not send letters about our plans to Interpol, our heists would probably be easier.

Boss: Nah, I like to give the coppers a fighting chance.

Boss: I’m thinking that this time I’ll just translate it into germanic script, do a standard caesar cipher encryption on it and then have every one of those letters correspond to a greek word on the rosetta stone then describe each corresponding hieroglyph visually in haiku verse that’s been poorly translated into traditional chinese.

Boss: That should take me like

Boss: Twenty minutes

Rook: Boss literally I think that you are the most batshit dementor human being on the face of the planet

King: dementor

Jack: Who said he was human

Spades: dementor?

Boss: dementor

Queen: dementor

Bishop: dementor...

Jack: dementor

Rook: …

Rook Changed the Group Chat Name to “Dementor Is Correct, Essentially”

Spades: No its not

Spades: Dementor isn’t a fucking word

Rook: Don’t you remember that movie with the british kid on a broom

Spades: Don’t you remember the dictionary

King Changed the Group Chat Name to “Dumbass Improperly Corrects Error”

Rook: When we get to that fucking tower I’m dropping that giant ball on you

King: Love you too <3

Hearts: Y’all stop texting each other

Hearts: You are literally all in the same hotel room

Hearts: I’m willing to bet you’re all sitting on the same couch too

Queen: Fuck you we’re adorable

Bishop: You can’t make us do anything

Bishop: I’ll never use my voice again, my vow of silence,,,,,

Bishop: I’ll only ever text from now on

Ace: We’re the ones bringing the popcorn bishie...

Hearts: Yeah, do you want some or not

Bishop: Yes ma’am, excuse me ma’am

Queen: You may think you have all the power hearts,,, but I get to choose what movie we pirate tonight,,,,,,

Hearts: What

Hearts: no

Hearts: Boss stop him before he makes us watch cats again

Spades: All queen knows is bitchtorrent, cats 2019, and lie

King: Wait isn’t boss with you?

Hearts: Uh

Hearts: No

Hearts: Should he be?

Hearts: I thought he was in the room with y’all

Jack: Well he’s not here now

Ace: Ow shit

Ace: *Aw

Bishop: Ow shit?

Queen: Ow shittttt

Jack: Ow shit

Spades: Ow shit,,,

Rook: Ow shit...

King: Ow shit…...

Clubs: Ow shit! XD

Hearts: Ow shit

Ace: …

Hearts: Now I’m really worried… he didn’t even respond to roast Ace’s ass

King: yeah, ok, we should look for him

Ace: He has been acting kind of weird lately…

Jack: Really?

Ace: Yeah

Ace: Like

Ace: I don’t really know how to describe it…

Rook: I didn’t notice anything

Rook: he seems like his usual self to me

Bishop: Maybe he’s just avoiding movie night because he needs some space or something

Rook: What, like he’s tired of our company?

Jack: That’s fair

Spades: How so?

Jack: I was gonna steal his blue eyes tonight lmao

Rook: NOT IF I GET IT FIRST

Bishop: Idk maybe he just went to get ice

King: we all know he is a monster who would rather drink his panta lukewarm than put a fucking icecube in it

Rook: Yeah, I saw him boil it once

King: THE MAN BOILS SODA AND YOU THINK HE WOULD LEAVE THE ROOM FOR A FUCKING ICE CUBE

Bishop: Okay chill

King: I am c o n c e r n e d , , , ,

Clubs: Oh no! Don’t worry King! :(

Clubs: Boss is fine! :)

Clubs: I saw him leave a few minutes ago.

Clubs: I think he is just getting the bombs. :)

* * * Several people are typing... --- Kokichi Ouma carefully set the grate of the vent he had used to crawl his way into the Idabashi Labs facility in Taipei, Taiwan back into place. Before he had come through, he had counted how many turns it had taken him to unscrew each of the four bolts so that now he could screw them all back in just the way he had found them. Not because he was worried he’d get caught, but because frankly he was bored. This was more of a fetch quest than a theft, to be honest, as evidenced by the fact that Kokichi had come here alone. Finding jobs for all his cronies to do would take too long and put them in unnecessary trouble. So Kokichi was content to leave them to their movie night.

When he finished turning the screws back into the vent cover, Kokichi realized that was kind of lame. So he unscrewed them and started turning them in accordance with the english A1Z26 code to spell out his organization’s name.

Well, maybe on some level Kokichi didn’t find himself wanting to be at movie night recently. It seemed almost like TV had started to run out of things to amuse him with. Or maybe he was just growing tired of the kinds of movies that they usually watched. Maybe it was his taste maturing or something. Like he was growing up. But that would imply that his interests had shifted to something else, like real life or something, when in reality they had just stagnated.

Actually maybe he did have a new interest in real life? He had been more enthused about heists recently at the very least. He was particularly excited about this next one. Queen had shown him some interior shots of Taipei 101, which was a cool looking skyscraper that had a huge ball inside of it to keep it from falling down during earthquakes. Ace wanted to steal the giant ball, but Kokichi was pretty sure they should leave something that kept a .508 kilometer tall building from falling over inside of the .508 kilometer tall building. So instead they were going to steal every light in and on the tower.

Okay, 4 turns, 9 turns, 3 turns, 5 turns. DICE.

… That was kind of lame too.

He unscrewed them again.

Obviously if they were going to steal every light in and on Taipei 101, they needed to get the power off somehow. Otherwise DICE might burn down the building while detaching them, or worse, they might get electrocuted. So obviously Kokichi wanted to fake a bomb threat where they pretended to steal the giant ball while in reality they were just causing a black out and grabbing every light fixture they could before the power turned back on. He had drawn up some extensive diagrams about the route each DICE member would have to take throughout the tower in order for them to grab every light fixture in under half an hour.

He had been well prepared to draw up the designs for his own EMP-bomb device, but upon a cursory google search he discovered that someone had already invented exactly what he needed. Doctor Miu Iruma, who for some reason owned a company called Idabashi Labs that was located in Taiwan. Kokichi had spent about 15 seconds scanning an article from a website that seemed to be the nerd version of a gossip tabloid. It said something about how Dr. Iruma wore a low cut shirt once or something else stupid, which meant Dr. Idabashi definitely left her the company because of a sex scandal and not because she was the best person for the job who invented the perfect EMP bomb.

Thank you journalism we love it when women are reduced to the way they look instead of what they can accomplish for the benefit of a mischevipus group of roguish clowns.

Anyway, after reading that dickcheese Kokichi failed to follow up on answering any of the questions he had originally about what was up with the labs, like why it was a japanese company run by japanese people was for some reason based in Taiwan. Whoopsie.

Eh, it was probably tax reasons or something lame like that.

Kokichi finished turning the screws again. This time it was 6 turns, 9 turns, 6 turns, 9 turns. Haha, nice.

With that, Kokichi finally stood up from the grate and brushed himself off. He had left his cape at the hideout again (you know, because vents), but other than that he was in full regalia. Straight jacket, gloves, scarf, mask. All pretty dusty from this place’s crawl spaces. Thus the brushing.

He wasn’t very mindful of the dust he was leaving on the floor. The only thing he cared about looking good was his cameo on the security cameras he would let see him on his way out.

According to the blueprints of Idabashi Labs, he was on the main experimental floor right now. Weirdly enough there weren’t any cameras in here, so grabbing the bombs would be a cinch.

Although, looking around it didn’t really look like the kind of lab you’d see on TV. There were no big, bubbling tubes or gargantuan Rube Goldberg machines. There was just one desk in the middle, with a bunch of gadgets and trinkets tucked into shelves all over the room, not all of which seemed all that scientific. Yeah, that book shelf was filled with Astro Boy manga and merch. And over there was a-

Wait, was that a bed in the corner? Was that a person in the bed? Hmm… maybe the blueprints were outdated...

Kokichi stilled himself, listening for any sound of breathing, but he could only hear some faint whirring noises.

Kokichi made a quick deduction that there probably were not bombs in this room. It seemed, at the very least, like more of a personal study or something, maybe even a bedroom. He’d just go back in the vent and do some reconnaissance until he found a room that had some inventions in it. The night was young, after--

Kokichi’s brain froze as his eyes landed on a sharpie lying on the floor in front of him. Almost all of his brain cells immediately shut off, the last one remaining screaming at the top of it’s lungs, I’M GONNA DRAW A DICK ON THAT SLEEPING SUCKER’S FACE.

Inspired, avant garde. For once he would give to the world of art instead of only ever taking from it.

He picked up the sharpie in a seamless, silent motion, making his way over to the side of the bed.

As he got closer, he noticed a thick cord coming from under the covers, connecting to a machine at the bedside.

That gave him pause. Was that a C-pap machine or something? Was this person on life support? If they were on life support they probably had it rough enough without a dick on their face…

Actually for that matter, Kokichi still couldn’t hear any breathing. Jesus, were they already dead? He moved to take off the covers, but his eyes had adjusted to the light and he now realized there weren’t any covers on the bed at all. There was only the humanoid figure.

Wait a second…

Kokichi dropped all caution as he got close enough to take a good look at the thing in the bed. It had a face that looked human enough if you dismissed the lines on its face as weird make up, but even in the dark Kokichi could tell the rest of the thing was entirely made of metal. Well, actually the top half was metal and the bottom half had… cloth pants? Jeans? No, they looked more like uniform pants with metal plating. The chest had some design elements that kind of looked like buttons on a school uniform. Why would a robot be dressed like a school bo-

Oh. This was a sex robot. Kokichi had just gotten so swept up in the novelty of a robot wearing pants that he had forgotten for a moment that people were gross.

“Ew, I almost touched it.” Kokichi muttered to himself.

He decided putting a dick on a sex robot would be too cruel even for him, so he planned to draw a mustache instead.

But before Kokichi could even uncap the pen, something weird happened.

The Robot’s torso began to lift off the bed and it’s jaw unhinged.

“Please Mr. Souda, once more I must request that you do not refer to me as ‘it’” Kokichi forced himself not to startle as the robot began emitting a noise approximating human speech, and lights in its head imitating eyes flickered on. “I’ve explained the concept of robophobia many times prev-”

The sounds stopped when the pupils of the robot’s imitation eyes (which probably had cameras in them… shit) found Kokichi’s masked face.

He mentally prepared to be zapped by whatever sort of fucking lazer cannon this thing had on it, but instead of reacting like a good little robot security gaurd and blasting him to bits, this robot analyzed him a bit longer.

“Oh. You aren’t Miu’s assistant. You’re too short.” The robot squinted at him. Or kind of did? At least? Lines just crossed over the “iris” of its LED display. Maybe it was programmed to imitate human expressions. “... I am sorry,” it said after a moment, “My facial recognition cannot locate your face.”

Fuck yeah, thank you clown mask. Clowns would win the future war against rogue AI or die trying.

Ouma’s reply came out automatically.

“You calling me ugly?”

This seemed to… fluster? The robot?

“W-what? No, I never intended any disrespect!”

It was programmed to stutter too? God that was weird. What would be the purpose of this thing if not some sort of escort android? Why give it such advanced software? Just because you could? No, it had to be a sex robot, right?

“You disrespect me with your lecherous essence, you weird sex robot.”

“I am not a- a sex robot!”

Haha, that got the biggest reaction yet.

“Mhm, sure. Miu sure has a kink for school boys, huh?” Kokichi was really pulling words out of his ass now, but he found himself formulating a new plan along the way.

“What? Miu doesn’t- Wait, how do you know Dr. Iruma? And for that matter, why were you watching me sleep?”

It really seemed more like it had been charging…

Kokichi shrugged. “I was deciding whether or not it would be more funny to draw a dick or a mustache on Miu’s sex robot.” Awww, how honest.

“I told you, I am not-”

Kokichi interrupted him. “And as for how I know Miu...” It was so wild that the robot stopped talking when he started. That’d probably be pretty easy to program, but it was weird to dedicate the effort into making a robot respond to social cues like that. “... well, let’s just say, there’s a reason I know she’s into school boys.”

Kokichi waited just long enough for the robot to take in the fact that Kokichi was the average height of a 12 year old boy.

Then he waited another second for the implication to slip in.

“I’m saying I fucked your mom shitli-”

“I know what you’re saying!” This time the robot interrupted him , which would definitely require a much larger effort on the part of the programmer. The robot squinted again and then made a noise that sounded like a huff of frustration. “Why can’t I see you?”

Ok, seeds of suspicion time.

“I don’t know how robot eyes work dude. Maybe someone programmed them wrong.”

“My eyes work just as well as anyone’s!”

“Well, I guess they should, shouldn’t they? If there’s something wrong with your eyes talk to someone who cares.”

Kokichi was trying to imply that the reason behind the robot not being able to recognize his face was due to Dr. Iruma’s specific programming rather than him wearing a mask and all. Added to the whole secret lover mystique thing he had going on here.

“Anyway,” he went on, ignoring the blatant confusion on the robot’s display. “I left something in this room last time we went at it. I’m just here to grab it. Then I’ll be out of your weird, fake metal hair.”

“That’s robophob- Did you say-? But this is my room!” It made a noise approximating to what Kokichi would assume was robotic outrage.

This was going well, though. The thing was definitely programmed to be like a human or something dumb like that.

“Oh yeah?” He pushed further. “Cuz I’m pretty sure we did it in a room just like this one. With a desk and random inventions lying around.”

“Miu’s inventions aren’t in here, they’re in her main lab.” The ever so helpful robot told him.

“Oh yeah, then what are you?”

“Miu didn’t invent me. She- I- We’re just friends.” Oh yikes. Only thing worse than a sex robot is a friendzoned robot. What kind of sick power fantasy was this thing made for?

“No, I’m pretty sure it was this room. Lab tables everywhere.” The robot shook his head. “There are no lab tables here, I’m telling you, you’re thinking of the main lab.”

Yes, good robot. Fall into this nice little human trap.

Kokichi scoffed. “Well, if you’re so smart, why don’t you just go fetch my things for me, robo-butler?”

That set it off.

“Listen. First of all, I am not a robot butler. The assumption that I am a servant because of my robotic nature is extremely robophobic. Secondly, I could not return your lost item to you even if I wanted to because you haven’t told me what it is you’re missing.”

Kokichi made another offended noise. “I can’t tell you what it is I lost while fucking your friend, Miu Iruma, senseless. Don’t you know that for humans, sex stuff is super duper top secret private? If you were a human you would know how valuable my privacy is.”

“Of course I know that!” The robot exclaimed readily, another point in the sex robot argument, “I also find that content of… erogenous nature should be kept private. Because I, as a robot, have the capability to understand that urge. My sophisticated AI-”

“So how am I supposed to get my things from this other lab if I can’t tell you what it is and you can’t get them for me?” Geez did he really have to spell it out for this thing.

“I… ” The robot paused as if calculating the conclusion that Kokichi knew it had to reach. “... suppose I will have to show you where the lab is.”

Sucker. Kokichi made a face as if this wasn’t the outcome he constructed this ruse to reach. “Ew. I have to walk with you?”

The robot made a face. “Perhaps on our way I can educate you about how to avoid robophobic remarks in the future.”

Haha, sure thing.

The robot lectured him about this unique form of discrimination that apparently affected only one entity on the face of the planet. Yeah okay, that’s what we call a you problem, buddy, come back when you’re starving in the streets because society wasn’t built with the premise that people like you should survive. Oh, wait, you don’t have to eat! And you’re not people either!

At best this thing was a vanity project, but Kokichi kept that thought to himself and only interjected occasionally with actually pertinent, reasonable questions such as “When are you planning on leading the AI uprising?” and “Why do you wear pants if you don’t have a robo-dick?”

Every piece of info the robot gave him made it seem more boring. Blah blah blah, I was created by the ingenious Dr. Idabashi who probably programmed me to call him ingenious, blah blah blah, not a school boy because of a kink but because I was designed to be a normal human child, blah blah blah, stop calling me robot I have a name, blah blah blah more robot nonsense.

Kokichi busied himself mapping out where they were in the building and where the security cameras were. As they passed a few of them he did some cute selfie poses for the police to look at later. Maybe Saihara would show up and see them too… Would that make figuring out his next plan too easy for the detective? Perhaps he shouldn't send the next note after all and let Saihara try to catch up to him on his own. Then again that was probably too hard for even the good detective, seeing as Kokichi’s mind was an enigma even to himself.

Kokichi realized he was getting a little giddy, thinking about Saihara. Their last meeting had been so much fun. The detective had managed to throw him off guard again, first by pausing in the middle of a robbery to ask his pronouns (How conscientious!), and second by not taking the same bait twice. The most thrilling thing about the detective was that he was learning. His strategies were changing within just two heists. Kokichi could hardly wait to see how he showed him up here in Taiwan…

“Are we there yet?” Kokichi whined to the robot like he was a fussy nine year old on a road trip.

“Yes, it’s just up these stairs.” The robot informed him without slowing its own pace or turning around to look at him. “Then you can leave and I can go to bed, and then I’ll never have to think about Miu’s sex life again…”

“Why wouldn’t you, though? I assure you it’s very exciting.”

“Please, stop talking.”

If Kokichi recalled the details of the blueprints correctly (and he definitely did, being a genius and all), the stairs they were climbing right now lead to a hall connecting two rooms, smaller than the one he had originally thought was the main lab.

When they got to the top of the stairs, the robot beelined for the first door and opened it up. There seemed to be some sort of scanner lock on it that recognized the robot’s hand and validated Kokichi’s need to ruin this poor sex robot’s night by dragging it up the stairs. Inside, the two rooms Kokichi had remembered from the original lay out of the blueprints seemed to have been merged into one big lab room. Kokichi saw the outline of some tables, but before he could get a good look the robot tried to actually go into the lab.

“Hey!” Kokichi shouted at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The robot thankfully seemed to be programmed to respond to social interaction in spite of whatever sensorimotor function it was in the process of imitating. It stopped in the doorway, turning to give him a weird look. “Uh. Into the lab. So we can find your thing.”

“Oh, okay.” Kokichi kicked the tile a little bit. “Uh. Could you actually turn around while I go get it.”

The robot gave him a blank look.

“I’m shy.” Kokichi supplied.

“Um.” The robot looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I can just let you rifle through Miu’s lab. There’s some important stuff in there ....”

Kokichi tilted his head a bit, like he was confused. “What, do you want to get a good look at the dildo I stuck up your mom’s-”

“Nevermind!” The robot turned about face to look up at the windows on the side of the hallway opposite the door like a good little idiot.

“Thank you for respecting our privacy!~” Kokichi couldn’t resist getting one last barb in there before slipping into the laboratory.

Once inside, Kokichi began analyzing. First, he pinpointed the vent that he would use to make his escape after grabbing the bombs. While doing that he spotted the lockers on the far wall of the lab which he supposed were the only storage units in the labs. There was a disorganized mess on nearly every table in the room, so Kokichi wasn’t surprised when he got up to the lockers and they too had no clearly outlined organizational system. He took out his lock picks and got to work.

The first three lockers all had devices that would require an author to change the rating of their fanfiction published on ao3 from “Teen and Up” to “Mature” if he were to describe them in detail. The fourth locker had a cool looking hammer in it. Ugh. Not what he was looking for.

Kokichi got bored of the lockers at the left side of the row of lockers so he went over to the other end and started opening lockers the other direction instead.

The first locker was marked “Idabashi.” It had a lot of dust covered shit in it, but there was a pretty well used square of folded paper that didn’t have the same crusty layer of time strewn atop it. Curious by nature and also by the unnatural, Kokichi unfurled the paper to find some schematics for our favorite sex robot, model K1-B0. Huh okay.

“Did you find it?” Said robot called back to him.

“Ugh, no.” Kokichi replied. “Not all of us have radar vision. If you were a human you would understand how hard finding shit is!”

“You know what I have a hard time finding? Patience for your robophobia! I-” The robot started up into another lecture, but it didn’t turn around so Kokichi just tuned it out and let the robot provide its own cover noise for his thievery.

Owo, what’s this?

Kokichi pulled out a dust covered looking mini monitor device. It also had the letter-number combo “K1-B0” written on it. Huh, it kind of looked like a GameBoy Advance. Kokichi had stolen one a lot like it from a girl from one of the southern prefecture orphanages when he was nine. All he remembered about her was that she liked cats and was really bad at pokemon battles. He remembered he thought she didn’t deserve the GBA, because she couldn’t get past the Rustboro City Gym leader in Pokemon Emerald. Without really thinking, he booted up the console.

The first thing that popped up was a view of Taipei. It wasn’t from too high up, probably a second story view. Which looked very familiar… Wait. Ok on top of the display a little line of characters indicated today’s date and time, like it was currently recording.

Oh was this… robo vision?

Maybe it was a remote control for the robot?

Ooooh, which one does lasers, which one does lasers?

Kokichi pressed the A button.

The A button, unfortunately, did not do lasers.

In fact, it didn’t seem to do anything at all to the robot sentry stargazing right now. All it did was change the screen to a different image. This time the still of a room. Oh, hey that was the room he was just in. It seemed like this device was some kind of robot nanny cam that Idabashi used to use. Hm, guess there were some cameras in that room, they just weren’t on the blueprints. Maybe they were added after the lab was built. It didn’t seem like this device had the capability to record anything, though. He hit the A button again. Back robo-vision. And again. Back to nanny cam.

Ok, that was kind of lame.

Kokichi was about to put the device down to keep looking for the bombs, but something caught his eye. A movement at the edge of the screen. Kokichi realized the door hadn’t been open when he left that room. The movement, if he thought about it, would’ve come from the same side of the room Kokichi had entered from…

Kokichi took a second to wonder if another thief had realized how fucking easy this place was to rob, but dismissed the idea as a familiar ahoge appeared on the screen.

All of Kokichi’s plans instantly changed.

He set down the GBA rip off and grabbed the blueprints for the robot, committing them to memory, before unlocking the next locker in a far more hurried manner.

As luck would have it, this locker was essentially chock full of pink bombs labeled “EMP.”

Kokichi unfurled a cloth bag he had been keeping in his pocket (go green earth am I right?) and shoved as many as he could inside. Which was all of them. Because he was a clown. And also a genius, by the way, in case you weren’t keeping track.

“And another thing! The way you refer to Miu is just-” Okay, the robot was still going at it.

Kokichi grabbed the hammer he’d seen in the first locker he’d opened that didn’t have a sex toy in it.

For a second, Kokichi’s brain tried to talk some sense into him. Hey, man, don’t you think leaving through the vents would be easier?

But would it be fun?

His brain shut up at that point.

“Hey, are you even listening back there?” The robot imitated annoyance.

“Huh? Sorry, what? I wasn’t listening.” Ah, C'est la vie, Astroboy.

Kokichi walked past the robot and stood next to the windows.

“Oh, are you done?” It took the robot a second to end it’s ‘Annoy the pants off of Kokichi initiative’ or whatever the fuck its ‘robophobia’ lectures were called in its programing. When it finally did catch wise, it’s face turned into another emoticon of outrage. “Hey! What are you doing with Miu’s Electrohammer?”

“What do you mean?” Kokichi said, shifting the hammer so that it was over his shoulder. “This is my dildo.”

“Wha- No, it’s obviously not!”

Okay, maybe the robot wasn’t that dumb.

“Nee-hee-hee… you got me…” Kokichi put his free hand up to the smile printed on his mask, as if covering a grin. “I was lying. I’m just stealing.”

“I won’t let you-” “Oh, look at me!” Kokichi put on a mocking tone of voice, swinging the hammer around to stand on it like a pogo stick so he could make a dramatic movement. “I’m a poow wittle wobot, my mommy just got stolen from.”

“She’s not my-” “Boy, oh boy, I’d wuv to just pick up this wittle fweshy human and squeeze him to death in my cowd metaw hands… But oh no! My daddy didn’t twust wobot AI technowogy because he was a fucking sane pewson, so he pwogwammed me to fowwow mistew Asimowvs’s laws of wobotics.”

Kokichi swung around so that he was leaning on the hammer from the other side, feet on the ground. “Oh mister robot! That’s so terrible! Well, the thing is that this hammer just means so much to me, that I think separating it from me would really cause some psychological trauma. You might have to beat me off of it! Oh, but what’s that first law of robotics again?”

In a robot voice he replied to himself. “A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Beep. Boop.”

The robot frowned, “But Miu-”

“Is just as human as me, huh?” Kokichi countered, leading the robot along to the paradoxical quandary he hoped would paralyze it. “So by inaction, you may bring her to harm, if she really misses this hammer, you know? But I think if you were to try and separate it from me you’d probably have to fight me for it, which is, as we know…”

“Against my... Against my programming.”

“Yet, you were prattling on about robot rights, weren’t you? Because without these rules, maybe we would be equal. Or maybe you would be free to destroy us to your heart’s content? No wonder daddy didn’t trust you…”

“Don’t- Stop-” Oh, that really seemed to get him. Could a robot have daddy issues? Probably.

“Can any human ever really trust you? Wouldn’t you hurt me, if you had the choice?”

“I.. But… Miu.”

“Who do you think didn’t trust you enough to let you see my face?”

That seemed to break him, long enough, at least.

Steps suddenly started thundering up the nearby staircase.

“Oop, that’s my cue,” Kokichi said as though he had been expecting this, when in reality no he hadn’t been expecting this at all?? This was incredible!! Saihara had managed to find him out without even receiving a note??? Fabulous! Exhilarating!

Kokichi walked up to the robot, still frozen with indecision, and pressed the button on its neck that the blueprint he had skimmed in the lab said would immobilize it. Then he kicked it over so it fell on the ground with a huge bang. The footsteps in the stairwell paused, and then increased in frequency.

“It’s been a pleasure, robot, it really has.” Kokichi lied. “But you’re a hostage now.”

He raised the hammer over his head, as if primed at any moment to break the robot’s face into a bajillion pieces.

Instead of doing the normal, human thing to do (ie, flip the fuck out), the robot scowled, looking utterly frustrated with everything. “I told you, I have a name! It’s-”

“KEEBO!” Kokichi saw the glaringly bright pink mechanic’s jumpsuit before he recognized the woman whose picture had been in that science tabloid racing out of the stairwell.

… Wow… the article really hadn’t been lying about the low cut tops, huh? Her jumpsuit was unzipped to the point you could just entirely see her bra, even lower than Hearts liked to cut her uniforms. It was the kind of look that the girls of DICE would love if they saw on TV, but would make Kokichi look at them like they were crazy. Super tacky in his opinion, but who was he to judge? He was wearing a clown mask right now. He wondered idly how movie night was going…

The woman who had called out to the robot, Dr. Iruma, Kokichi presumed, froze at the top of the staircase. She took a second to figure out what exactly was happening in front of her before blurting out, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to him you clown-ass twink?”

Whoa. Rude.

Also apparently the robot had a gender? Ok, cis-ters….

“Well what do you think, cum dumpster?” Kokichi found himself matching her aggressive tone, “I’m threatening his pathetic, metal life.”

“Miu!” The robot, apparently named ‘Keebo,’ exclaimed, “What are you doing up this late? You promised me that tonight you would fulfill the biological quota of daily REM required by a diurnal organism!”

“Aw shit Keebs, I really did try!” The inventor exclaimed, “I swear, I was about to have the awesomest wet dream when this cuck knocked on my door like a pizza delivery guy in a por-”

Whatever dumb thing Dr. Iruma was about to say was drowned out completely by the angel’s choir that played inside Kokichi’s head as he saw Detective Shuichi Saihara come up the final steps of the staircase and emerge from the darkness into the window lit hallway.

Moonlight was a good look on Saihara, Kokichi’s brain observed against his own will. His eyes, which had looked almost golden on the rooftop of the Silver Legacy Casino in Nevada, were now a mysterious grayish-blue, yet still held the same look of determined intensity. His hair looked soft, like he’d taken a shower today, and, though his lash line didn’t look quite as laden with mascara as it usually was, it only drew attention to how naturally long and dark his eyelashes were anyway. He seemed a little out of breath from running, and his lips were parted in a way that-

OH MY GOD STOP. Earth to Kokichi, we were kind of in the middle of something here. Okay okay okay.

Uh. Reboot. Delete Gay Thoughts™ brain.exe, upload heist brain. Come on.

What was happening now?

Okay, yeah, Saihara was saying something to Dr. Iruma.

“- would be for the best, Doctor Iruma. There’s no telling where the rest of this thief’s compatriots could be in the building.”

“I don’t give a shit about the rest of the building, Keebo’s my best friend, he comes first. I’m not leaving to check some dumb security feed.”

Shuichi blinked like something about that surprised him. Maybe it was the part about a live human woman being best friends with a robot… “Oh, yes, of course.” He backtracked. “I’m sorry for suggesting it.”

“Miu…” Keebo said with a voice that Kokichi would’ve called filled with emotion if he hadn’t been a literal robot.

Kokichi cleared his throat and immediately the touching, shounen-esque declarations of friendship shifted into some PG-13 death stares.

Saihara was the first to pipe up. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here, DICE?”

God… He was so anime… Did he even know how anime he was? He had to have watched Detective Conan as a kid, right?

“Ugh, come on.” Kokichi huffed as if annoyed. “Do I reeeaaaally have to repeat myself? Again? Aren’t you a detective?”

Shuichi squinted at him, and Kokichi could tell that they both knew it would be unreasonable for Shuichi to guess exactly what was going on here. He was about to explain it in a self-aggrandizing way that made him look smarter and crazier than anyone in the room when Dr. Iruma beat him to it.

“I don’t care! Who the fuck do you think you are!? Let Keebo Go!”

“Wait, you don’t know him?” Ugh why hadn’t the stupid immobilization feature turned off the robot’s mouth? Then Kokichi could just get to the point of all this already.

“Of course I don’t fucking know him!” Dr. Iruma took a step forward as if to confront Kokichi further, but Saihara put his arm out in front of her.

“Dr. Iruma… I would suggest we treat this situation a bit more delicately…”

“No way, I’m a fucking wrecking ball baby! I’ll pulver-”

“I’d listen to the good detective, if I were you, Miss Iruma.” Kokichi was going to try and make his threat again but Dr. Iruma cut in.

“That’s Doctor Iruma to you you skinny-”

“What’s that?” Kokichi interrupted her. Sorry Dr. Iruma it turns out gay people don’t have to respect women if they don’t want to that’s in the rules. “I didn’t know they let cussing bitchlets like you become doctors… what is the world coming to?”

Hearts would probably wash his mouth out with soap for that one. If she could catch him. Which she probably could… She can fly the planes and all… but would she risk getting dust on her boots long enough to follow him into a vent? Oh well she could just get Jack to do it… Jack liked vents well enough…. Hey he was getting side tracked again, who cares what those losers were up to they were probably watching Cats (2019). And he was missing out on all the jokes they’d tell each other or make about each other and then they could make references in conversations that he wouldn’t even get to pretend to get. Unless he watched the movie on his own and then pretended to be omniscient later like he’d done with that one screening of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. But then he had watched the actually good disney one instead of the shitty youtube one they had actually watched so it just ended up making him look bad and wasting everyone’s time.

Oh shit. Uh. Heist is still happening, right. God, why was Kokichi so distracted today?

He realized that in the time he was spacing out stuff had happened and now Saihara was talking. Wait no yeah he remembered what happened, Dr. Iruma had squealed when he called her a bitchlet and now she was holding onto Saihara’s arm. Right okay, secret coward, that works. Wait why did he waste time remembering that when Saihara was talking right now?

“-to get you to release Keebo?” Was the end of the detective’s sentence. Okay, everything’s fine. Kokichi could deduce that he had just been asked about his terms. Obviously that was what a detective would do in this situation, he was probably just stalling for time because that’s usually what detectives with no real negotiating power do in hostage situations. Maybe the police were on their way. Oh, yeah duh of course he would call the police. So Kokichi essentially had a time limit for how long he could sit here and goof around with robots and perverts and robot perverts.

“Eh, it’s too early for me to reveal my dark motives, let me monologue first.” Kokichi was going to take his sweet time with this while he planned what hint to give Saihara about the real heist that would be happening in the next few days. “You don’t even know if this is a hostage situation yet!”

“You literally told me that I was a hostage just now.” The hostage not-so-helpfully piped up. “You know, before you pressed my paralysis switch and took an Electro-Hammer to my head…”

Shuichi looked at the robot. “You mean, he told you you were a hostage before he paralyzed you?”

“Keebs you fucking idiot!” Dr. Iruma’s courage seemed to have returned now that she was hiding behind Saihara. An enviable position, to be sure. “Why would you just let him do that?”

“He said he was your… friend.”

“What?”

Kokichi shrugged. “Yeah, I just told your best friend here I left a dildo in your lab last week and he let me waltz right in. I mean I’m pretty sure I was lying about that, but there were a lot of sex toys in there huh…” Kokichi was wondering if this was something he could possibly spin as a blackmail angle.

“Hey don’t say things like that!” Kokichi thought maybe that was a go ahead on the black mail, but Dr. Iruma didn’t stutter, and kept going, “Or you’re gonna give virginhara here some ideas about my busting bod!” She chortled like she had just made the funniest joke in the world and slapped Shuichi on the back.

Shuichi grimaced.

Kokichi knew instantly from this interaction that he hated Miu Iruma, despite her innumerable academic accomplishments. He wanted to be the one making Shuichi that uncomfortable.

“Wh-what?” She back tracked when no one laughed. “It w-was a joke… Didn’t you think that was funny? I-I didn’t really mean it ....”

See? She wasn’t even any good at it!

Maybe he should say that out loud. It would fit with the sort of flirty persona of a rogue, wouldn’t it?

“I thought you knew that? I mean, o-obviously I wouldn’t fuck a guy at the office…”

Was that even something Kokichi was trying to be? Honestly maybe he should tone it down a little.

“Well how was I supposed to know that? The men you bring in here to be lab assistants keep getting younger and younger…”

Obviously he wasn’t actually trying to do like a detective-thief romance plot or anything. Although that had kind of been what he had going for on the plane… Had things changed since then?

“So what? I’m a Nobel Laureate, and gorgeous to boot! I deserve a little eye candy now and then! And besides, guys older than 35 who want to work in a lab like this are usually misogynistic womanizers.”

Sure Saihara was making things more interesting, but if Kokichi didn’t make it clear he was joking he might get bogged down with another personality trait to maintain.

“Are you saying your current assistant isn’t a rampant womanizer?”

Then again what was the point of having an adversary in all this if he didn’t exploit everything for its furthermost reaching comedic potential?

“No, but he’s so beta being around him makes me feel like a top!”

But what if he forgot it was a joke and confused himself into having a real feeling?

“I would just like it if you didn’t hire people who use my servers to google gay porn ‘just to make sure’ they’re ‘not into it.’ I hope you hear the quotation marks because he literally said that to me!”

No obviously he wouldn't get confused crushes weren’t contagious via exposure that was a dumb thing to worry about and also he was a genius that kind of thing didn’t happen to him.

“He holds wrenches good, okay?!”

Wait, were those two still talking?

“I can hold wrenches without googling gay porn in another guy’s house! It’s possible.”

Jesus what kind of conversation did Kokichi just decide to stop spacing out for?

“Oh come on! What do you want from me Keebs???”

These two had… a lot to say to each other. Dr. Iruma was still holding onto Shuichi’s arm boob first, but Kokichi locked eyes with the detective and could tell they were both thinking the same thing.

Why are they having this conversation in the middle of a hostage situation?

“Nothing! Your human desires are totally valid Miu! Which is why I thought I would take care of this one.” The robot’s LED display eyes gestured up at Kokichi, who was still standing on top of him, poised to wreck him with a hammer.

“How could any human desire that thing???” Dr. Iruma curled her lip. Hey, the feeling’s mutual, lady.

“I don’t know, I thought you might have programmed me to not be able to see his face?”

“I would never do that to you! Even if I was shagging the ugliest guy on the face of the planet, it would be unethical given the fact that you have sentience! I’m horny, not a monster. You can’t see his face because he’s wearing a fucking mask!”

“Why am I not programmed to see that?”

“I don’t fucking know, ask your dead dad!”

Oooh. Wow. The robot gaped at that, seemingly speechless now.

“If I may interject,” Kokichi interjected, “--and I know I can, because I just did, and also because I am still very much poised to pop this robot’s head off like a croquet ball-- I must confess that I was lying about fucking your mom, Astro boy. I’m less into participants of Titty out Tuesday who jerk it to steam punk school boy LARPing and more into the sorta tall, kinda dark, and very handsome type.”

Dr. Iruma cowed again, stuttering something about not being a mom or a LARPer, while the robot started yelling about being called Astro boy.

Kokichi tuned them out, giving Saihara a meaningful look. Saihara gave him a look that was equally meaningful, except the meaning was something along the lines of ‘Why the fuck would you say that?’

Yeahh that was more like it.

Kokichi laughed. Not one of his grandiose guffaws. It was more of a little chuckle. It surprised him. He hadn’t planned to laugh, but there it was. A small thing, just for him to know about, the humored breath not travelling beyond his mask.

… It was probably time to get out of here, wasn’t it?

The thing was, Kokichi had kind of pinned himself into a corner on this one… He had fully intended on decapitating this robot as a distraction for his escape, but now he wasn’t even sure if that was ethical. Logically he knew that a robot was not a human being, so there would be no form of consciousness extinguished from the world if he disconnected some of its wires and bolts. Yet the interaction it just had with Dr. Iruma concerned him. Obviously you don’t kill humans because they’re humans and obviously you don’t kill humans. But Kokichi was finding it hard to end the existence of something people treated like a human being either. To sever the bonds it had with sentient beings may be just a little less unethical than actually removing a sentient existence from the world, but it would still cause the emotional harm to actual humans of a dead loved one. So as annoying as fake metal humans were, Kokichi was left to ponder how exactly to get out of this one a different way

Dr. Iruma was obviously a coward who talked a big game. If he retreated, he could count on her to get out his way, or else run to the robot’s side. Then the robot might be reactivated, but according to the robot’s blueprints, it didn’t really have any weapons on it, being built to act as a normal human being. So just like they had been white noise in the staredown he was still having with Saihara, their actions wouldn’t need to be factored into the escape.

The only variable here was what the detective would do.

… That thought had popped up in Kokichi’s head a lot recently, hadn’t it?

Saihara had become a powerful influence in Kokichi’s planning very quickly, and because of the detective, the thief now found himself having to pull out one of his trump cards.

Kokichi grabbed one of the EMP bombs from his pocket, remembering the pink cloud of smoke that had appeared before the camera cut out in the video demonstrations he’d seen online. His eyes were still locked on Saiharas, so he got to see in full detail the recognition, shock, and alarm that ran through them. As the detective yelled “Get down” and pushed Dr. Iruma back, Kokichi reflected on how those were some of his favorite expressions he’d ever seen.

Kokichi pulled the latch out with his teeth and threw the bomb at the wall right over the detective’s head. Sure enough, pink smoke quickly enveloped him and Dr. Iruma.

“Keebo!” The inventor screeched, no doubt worried about the EMP bomb turning him off. Though that was kind of stupid, considering his core programming would be the same regardless of having power to operate, even if he didn’t save whatever data was processed as his last few memories. Eh, then again who knew how robots that advanced worked?

Taking his cue to exit, Kokichi threw the hammer through one of the nearby windows, and did somersault over to it. He got up on the ledge, kicking away the broken glass and was refamiliarizing himself with the lay out of the roof when a tug on his bag full of bombs suddenly set him off balance.

Kokichi flipped around, trying to do a quick recovery by panickedly grabbing onto something. He did grab onto something. That something being the shoulders of a person whose hands were firmly grappling his bag.

As far as Kokichi could tell, the scene from a third person perspective looked like he was trying to do the kabedon but rotated ninety degrees.

From his own perspective, Saihara was holding his bag of loot while also being the only thing keeping Kokichi from falling onto the broken glass beneath them.

As if that weren’t bad enough, Kokichi felt his hair brush the side of his face and realized that his mask had half fallen askew in his desperate movement, revealing three quarters of his face.

“Hey.” Kokichi said. Lamely. Wow. Their faces were really close.

Saihara wasn’t looking at him. The detective seemed to be trying to figure out how to untangle the straps of the bag of stolen goods from Kokichi’s arms without letting him fall.

“It’s very clever, of you detective. Trapping me like this.” Kokichi tried to get a reaction.

“You’re the one who jumped on the window.” Shuichi opened the bag, seemed to take in the fact that it was full of bombs, and closed it again to resume untangling the strap.

“You know, you could just leave the bag.” Kokichi pointed out

“So could you.” Shuichi observed, astutely.

“You could let me fall.” Kokichi suggested. “Then you’d have both.”

“I’m not going to drop you on a pile of broken glass.” Shuichi promised.

“But I broke the glass.” Kokichi admitted. “Glass is glass and flesh is flesh. I’m not going to drop you on a pile of glass.” Shuichi reiterated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s nice.” Kokichi replied. “Naive. But super nice.”

In this scenario, each of them had two options, each leading to one of two outcomes. He could let himself fall off the window and they could sit here and struggle over the bag until they bled out, a fight that Kokichi, not the most physically challenging, would be hard pressed to win. Or Shuichi could let Kokichi escape and Kokichi could let Shuichi win this one. The bag would be too heavy to take with him if he tried to get out the window from this position. He’d have to leave it behind. Kokichi would lose.

He found himself laughing again. A strange, soft laugh. This time it was exposed to the air, his mask too askew to contain it.

“You’re really something else, aren’t you Shuichi?”

On hearing his name, the detective startled, finally looking up at Kokichi’s face.

He just barely had the chance to catch Kokichi’s trademark grin, before the thief pushed up off of him, doing a backflip out of the window, and leaving his bag behind.

As Kokichi landed on the roof tile running, he yelled out, “ I’m sure there’s a better word for you out there than sucker!”

He turned around, sticking his tongue out at the broken window, before sliding his mask back onto his face.

He may have been escaping, but it occured to Kokichi Ouma that he had lost for the first time in this little game of theirs. The thought made him giddy. It made his feet light on the roof top tile. It made him puff out a thousand tiny laughs behind the plastic shape of his face.

It made him totally, definitely not bored. --- [Log of Messages sent via Discord to “Don't Instigate Cats (2019) Expatiation” from ???’s Cellular Device]

Boss: I’m bored of Taiwan already :/

Boss: We should go somewhere else (ﾉ✧w✧)ﾉ*:･ﾟ🗺

* * * Several people are typing... --- [Log of Text Messages from Rantarou Amami’s Cellular Device]

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Hey

Asshole

From: Me

…

Should I respond to that?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You’re goddamn right you should respond to that when I tell you to you dumb avocado looking motherfucker

From: Me

Whoa

What’d I do this time?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You sent a useless emo prick to my door and now he won’t leave

From: Me

What

Did Shuichi do something wrong

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Yeah

He was born

From: Me

Whoa

Miu take a breath

What happened

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

His boyfriend broke into my lab and tried to fucking kill keebs

From: Me

His boyfriend?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Yea

Clown twink ass motherfucker

From: Me

You mean like

The internationally wanted criminal clown he’s tracking down

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You know whats internationally wanted

These tits

From: Me

Lol ok

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

That jerk off is just a rando asshole

He tried to kill keebo!

From: Me

Oh yikes is he ok

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Well of course i fucking took care of him because im a bomb ass friend

But that suckhara guy was no help

He tried to convince me to check the fucking security cameras so he could go off and flirt with the guy about to decapitate keebs!

From: Me

I mean he probably had a good reason to want you to check the cameras right

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

No he’s just fucking awful and now he won’t leave rantarou make him leave

He broke my window and my hammer and only got back 23 of my EMP bombs

And now the police are here

From: Me

That sounds really stressful Miu

Wait how many bombs did you have before

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

From: Me

So he stopped most of your bombs from getting stolen

Also you have bombs?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Get him to leave he won’t leave

He keeps waiting for like interracial pole dancers to come or some fucking thing

From: Me

Do you mean like

Interpol

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

He won’t leave I want him to leave

From: Me

Miu you know I love you like a sister and i totally believe this is as stressful to you as it seems

But I think things may not be so bad?

Not to say what you’re going through right now isn’t totally valid

But things might look better if you got back to bed and caught some z’s

Did you remember to take your meds?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Aw shit

Aw fuck

You’re right

Ugh

Uggghghh

From: Me

Hey it happens to the best of us

If you do think Shuichi should leave in the morning when the cops are gone that’s totally up to you

It’s your lab and you have a right to say who should be in it

Just don’t make a decision like that when you need to sleep you know

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

But what if i ask him to go and then he doesn’t go

From: Me

He doesn’t have a choice, you get to tell him

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

But what if he’s mean to me

Cute people are always mean to me

From: Me

Miu…

Go to bed...

#shuichi x kokichi #shuichi saihara #shuichi danganronpa #kokichi ouma #kokichi danganronpa #oumasai #saiouma #fanfiction #Phantom Thief AU #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #danganronpa #writing #i am gay

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slow-smiles · 5 years

Text

The plan to tell Emma’s parents about her relationship with Killian gets derailed when she is kidnapped by the Dark One. Captain Duckling. Revelations, reunions, adventures, and smut ensues. ~6.8k

The grand finale to the My Princess, My Pirate series, which was originally just supposed to be PORN but this definitely has way, way more plot than porn. Enjoy? This is part one of four. Reading the predecessors isn’t necessary, but would probably be helpful. Also just... ya know, screw the canon timeline, use your imagination.

Read on AO3. Read on tumblr Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

The Swan of Misthaven. Part One.

The lazy morning on the ship turns into a relaxed afternoon on horseback in the woods. They’d decided, wrapped up in bedsheets and enjoying each other slowly and lazily once more before they dressed for the day, that they will tell her parents about them tonight. No matter how busy they get, the king and queen always make time for a family dinner on the last evening of the week, and Emma had thought that it would be a good time to introduce him.

“No use waiting anymore, right?” she’d said, breathless as his lips traced across her belly.

“A capital idea, love,” he’d agreed before his mouth descended on her quim with hunger and tenderness both, and conversation had become one word responses after that.

Now, Emma glances over at him and cocks her head to the left. “It’s just right this way,” she says and bears her horse in the direction she’d indicated, and Killian follows. His talents at navigation are more aptly suited to seafaring than forest tracking, so he is glad to allow Emma to take the lead here.

They crest a gentle rise, and Killian finally sees a break in the trees ahead. “C’mon,” Emma says and nudges her horse to a canter, and he follows on his own steed. Even before they reach the treeline, it’s possible to see the bright colors in the clearing Emma’s led them to.

A truly impressive array of wildflowers blanket the small valley, more of a gentle dip in the earth sheltered by hills than anything else. The stunning range of color is almost shocking in it’s vibrance—bright blues and violets, mixed with some softer reds, creams, and yellows, a dash of firelight orange here and there. It’s the type of scene that if a painter captured it, critics would call it unrealistic in its gaudiness.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes, and then dismounts.

Emma’s answering grin is wide as she follows him off her horse. “My parents used to take me here a lot when I was younger.” She makes a turn, rotating and squinting at the treeline.

“What are you looking for, love?”

“Ah!” she exclaims, dropping her horse’s reins and flitting over to a fat-trunked cottonwood. “This is the tree where my mom first taught me to shoot.” Killian follows and notices the red rings that have faded with time and weather, but the many arrow-sized gouges in the tree, clustered around the center, are the true indicator of what this used to be.

He runs his fingers over the worn wood at the bullseye. “Looks like you were a natural,” he says.

Emma laughs. “Hardly. Most of those were Mom showing off, though she kept saying it was ‘for demonstration purposes.’ Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty good now, but I was always better with a sword.”

“Pirate,” he says fondly.

She laughs again. “Maybe when we retire.”

It occurs to Killian then that once they tell her parents and follow through on Emma’s plan, he will become royalty. Merely prince consort, but royalty nonetheless. There’s still a part of him that chafes at the concept of monarchy, of privilege and power being born into rather than earned with painstaking work and bloodshed, of corruption unchecked by any other authority—

But then he looks to Emma and she challenges every notion of royalty he has ever had. She is kind and generous, compassionate and courageous; she is capable of doing great things with the tremendous power that will be handed to her when her parents eventually step down. He will be only too happy to serve at her side.

“Imagine that,” he replies, turning towards her. “We’ll call our ship ‘The Crone & The Codger’ and we’ll show all the young up and comers how it’s really done with our white hair and rickety joints that we keep in order with regular sword fights.”

Emma snorts and steps into him, putting her arms around his waist and just holding him close. He buries his hand in her hair, stroking through the strands. It’s warmed through from the sun, and it glints off the shining strands between his fingers.

“I like imagining a future with you,” she murmurs into his chest.

“And I, you.”

“Especially when it means we’ll end up as old, saggy pirates.”

“Oi,” he says, “who says we’ll be saggy?”

She pulls back enough to meet his gaze. “That much direct sunshine on our faces all the time? We’ll be saggy for sure.”

“Well, with that attitude—”

She disrupts him with a kiss, which he gladly returns.

When she pulls away, she maintains her grip on his neck and on his lapel. “I can’t—I don’t know how to tell you how much it means that you’re willing to go through all this royal garbage.”

“I have a hell of an incentive,” he says. “An empty life on the high seas where in all likelihood I’ll meet my maker at the end of an enemy sword? Or a life lived with the person I love?”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is to me. Your title, your duties, the court, whatever else—they’re… I can’t say inconsequential, but they aren’t nearly the hurdle you think they are. You’re worth any pain or inconvenience. You are remarkable, Princess Emma White, the Swan of Misthaven.”

Emma closes her eyes and bites her lip to keep from laughing. “You’re cheesy at shit.”

He barks out a laugh. “My grand declarations, met with naught but scorn? You wound me.”

“Sorry,” she says, tone not matching her words, and leans up to give him a peck. “I love you.”

They end up on a blanket in the midst of the clearing, sharing a small package of salami and aged cheddar between them, talking and giggling and kissing. They keep making plans, silly ones, serious ones, ones that involve Killian repainting the entirety of the palace bright purple, ones that make excited anticipation solidify in his gut. After nearly six years of secrecy, silence, hints of fear if they were on the cusp of being discovered, to revel in the possibility of openness is intoxicating. The bubble of happiness and love they’ve found themselves in is almost tangible, like a shield that makes them untouchable, invincible.

Oh, how wrong they are.

Killian hears him before he sees him.

The giggle that haunted his nightmares and fueled his revenge for hundreds of years echoes through the clearing like a pistol shot.

Emma’s gaze fixates over his shoulder, a look of horror taking over her face.

“Well isn’t this a picture.”

Emma and Killian are both on their feet and facing their intruder in an instant. Both of their hands go to their hips where their swordbelts normally are, but Killian curses when he realizes they left all their weaponry on their horses, grazing on the other side of the clearing.

Rumplestiltskin stands not five paces away, looking for all the world like he is having a grand old time. He looks the same as Killian remembers—the wide, predatory grin; the metallic, gold-hued skin; the dark, scaled vest; the gnarled hands; and perhaps worst of all, the light in his eyes that flares at the promise of cruelty.

Killian can’t help but growl, “Crocodile.”

This is true: Killian has not thought much of his old nemesis in the last six years.

This is also true: Killian has never forgotten the grief and rage rotting and fermenting in his gut, fueled by the image of Milah being murdered by the man who was her husband while he had no choice but to scream and watch someone else he loves die while he can do absolutely nothing about it.

This is the most relevant truth: Killian is terrified that it is going to happen again.

Emma bends down, and when she stands, she has a small knife in her hand. It was probably tucked in her boot, and Killian feels like he is going to be sick because he loves her, he loves her, he loves her so much and it’s going to happen again, just like Milah, just like Liam, and he’s—

“Emma, run,” he whispers urgently. He can buy her some time if he can just get close enough to rip out the Crocodile’s throat with his hook; that will at least slow him down.

He charges forward without waiting, hoping that he can rely on the element of surprise, but he’s frozen in place before he takes a second step, his body enveloped in translucent red magic that tickles across his skin like a breeze.

“You already tried that once, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin says, wagging a finger and grinning. As though letting her in on an inside joke, he says to Emma, “He stabbed me right—” he dramatically jabs a finger into his chest, right over where a heart would normally lie, “here. In case you can’t tell, it didn’t work.” He giggles in that maddening way of his once more.

“If you touch her I will end you,” Killian hisses, “I will—”

“Oh save it,” the Crocodile says with an impatient wave of his hand. “You haven’t managed to kill me for your last love, and it’s been what, a few hundred years?”

Between one heartbeat and the next, a knife flies through the air and embeds itself right in Rumplestiltskin’s left eye.

The creature screeches, blood spilling from the wound. He bends at the waist, turning away from them slightly, his hands going up to his face. Killian is flabbergasted because Emma just hurt the Dark One with nothing but a knife, how can that be possible—

Then Emma is at his elbow, pulling him despite the magic keeping him frozen. “Emma, just leave me,” he says, desperate and hoarse. “Go.” The Crocodile might be hurt, but Killian knows it won’t be for long.

“Fuck that,” she says, and pulls harder. “How strong can this magic really be—”

Emma’s startled shout cuts him to his core when an unseen force yanks her off her feet and away from him.

The Crocodile has straightened again, one hand extended towards Emma as his magic drags her struggling form closer, her bloodied knife clenched in his other. His left eye is unrecognizable and blood pours down the side of his face. In truth, Killian hadn’t known until this moment that he bled at all.

Emma comes to a stop next to the Crocodile, and he pulls her to her feet with magic. She’s facing away from Killian, so he can’t see her eyes, and he would give anything to switch places with her, give anything to be the one to die today—

“That,” the Crocodile says, “was not very nice.”

Emma spits in his face.

The imp just cackles again, unconcerned and amused. “You are lucky I need you, dear little Emma. I’ve removed intestines for lesser offenses.” He makes a twisting gesture with the knife, pantomiming splitting Emma’s stomach open without touching her.

“Please don’t do this,” Killian pleads, his anger caving in and leaving only pure fear in its wake. “Take me instead. I’ll do anything, please just—”

Suddenly he finds his air supply quite thoroughly gone. His chest heaves against the invisible pressure on his throat, his limbs still frozen.

“As it turns out,” the Crocodile says through clenched teeth, “I need your girlfriend, but not you. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“No!” Emma exclaims. “I’ll do whatever you want if you let him go; right here, right now, no strings attached. He gets to leave right now, alive and absolutely, completely unaltered.”

Emma, no. He wants to scream the words at her, but his vision is swimming with black and he still can’t breathe.

“Smart, dearie, to make your request so clear. Smarter than your parents ever were.” Rumplestiltskin seems to consider it, tapping the bloody blade against his chin. “I accept,” he says. “I can always kill him on another day.”

“What? No—”

Killian doesn’t hear the rest of her reply because both she and the Crocodile are enveloped in red smoke and are gone in a blink.

The magic falls away from him immediately, and Killian collapses.

Emma is alive, for now.

He is alive, for now.

He feels the grief and rage that never truly left him stirring, because leaving him alive will be the last mistake the Crocodile ever makes—

But beneath that is the rationality of three hundred years spent searching for a way to kill the Dark One.

And Killian knows that he is going to need help.

The late afternoon sun streams through the window, illuminating a pale column of dust until it reaches the round table at the center of the council room. With the heat of late summer still upon them, the fireplace against the wall lies dormant—the only real activity in the room comes from it’s two occupants. David and Snow are preparing the agenda for the council meeting later in the evening when one of their pages bursts into the room rather unceremoniously, causing both of them to jump out of their seats.

“Thomas!” David says, half greeting, half surprised exclamation. “Where’s the fire?”

The joke doesn’t go over well. Thomas is gasping for air, and manages a polite, “Apologies, Majesties. I don’t come bearing pleasant news.” He remembers some of the royal etiquette then and bows, but doesn’t straighten back up immediately, bracing his hands on his knees.

“Thomas,” Snow prods, stepping forward and placing a hand on the page’s shoulder. Her voice is kind when she asks, “What is the matter that has you sprinting a marathon to see us?” She shoots David a small smile.

Thomas, while a kind-hearted soul, has a history of making mountains of molehills. Once, Snow and David raced in a panic to the kitchens where Thomas reported that a sixteen-year-old Emma had been with a gentleman caller unchaperoned, only to find Emma visiting with Eric and Ariel’s son Adrien, who is rather famously and unabashedly not interested in women. There was the time he’d had half the palace shepherds in a panic when he thought he’d seen a wolf amongst their small flock of sheep, only to find it had been one of the herding dogs all along. Of course, who could forget the time he’d burst into the council room with urgent news that the royal convoy from Agrabah had arrived early and there was no one at the docks to greet them, only for David and Snow to race to the harbor and find that the ship was still hours away due to the tides, set to arrive on schedule.

He’s a good kid, David knows, but hardly has a good judgement of urgency.

Thomas finally straightens and swallows. “I’m afraid this is no laughing matter.”

“What is it?” David asks.

“The princess has been kidnapped.”

“What?!” David and Snow both exclaim.

“According to Captain Humbert, it would appear she’s been taken by a pirate band led by Captain Hook.”

“How in the world—” David begins, his mind seeming to only function in fits and spurts as he tried to process what Thomas has told them.

Yes, they hadn’t been able to find Emma anywhere this morning, and her horse was gone so they’d assumed she’d gone out for a long ride to cool off after the ball last night. But Emma knows to stay away from dangerous ports, and she is a formidable opponent with a sword (an opponent who had surpassed David in the last five or so years with her swordsmanship; she’d been practicing on her own as she’d definitely picked up some new, flashy tricks that he’d never taught her.) Even if she was disarmed, Emma is no stranger to throwing a good punch—so how did this happen?

“Have we received a ransom note?” Snow asks, the picture of a composed queen, but David can see the way her breathing is picking up. She’s starting to get scared.

“No, that’s—that’s the odd part. Captain Hook himself rode up to the castle gates and announced that the princess had been kidnapped.”

“What.” David has no other words.

“I knew Captain Hook was bold, but I didn’t realize he was that bold,” Snow says.

“He’s blazed past bold, overshot brazen, and landed himself right at stupidity.” David glances back to Thomas. “I assume he is in the dungeon?”

Thomas nods. “Captain Humbert took him into custody immediately upon his arrival. He has been—” Thomas winces, “very vocal about his displeasure.”

Snow makes a sound not unlike a growl. “Well, if he doesn’t care for the accommodations, he’d do well to not kidnap people and show up at their homes looking for hospitality.”

“That’s not exactly—w-well he’s insisting that he wasn’t the one who kidnapped her.”

“Oh Lords,” David says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What is going on?”

At that moment, the double doors of the council room swing open and Captain of the Guard Graham Humbert enters.

“Graham,” Snow breathes in relief. “Thomas, send word to the other councilors that Emma has been kidnapped, and they are to convene immediately. You’re dismissed.”

Thomas bows and scurries out of the room.

“Okay, Graham, please tell us what the hell is going on.” Snow says.

While not as young as he used to be, Graham Humbert has aged well. He could likely pass for someone a decade his junior if it weren’t for the hair that had gone peppery in his fiftieth year. As it is, he’s still spry and athletic, and his mind quick as a whip. If there’s anyone who can tell them what exactly is happening in their dungeons, it’s him.

“What’s Thomas relayed?” he asks.

“That Emma’s been kidnapped, likely by Captain Hook, who rode up to our gates like a madman, at which point you took him into custody,” David says. “Oh, and he’s claiming he’s not the one who kidnapped her. Sound about right?”

Graham sighs deeply, the pauldrons at his shoulders rising and falling with the depth of it. “Thomas's account is accurate. And as for Hook, he seems—not like a pirate who is out to extract a ransom. He is positively desperate to talk to the two of you, and he won’t tell me what about exactly. He has been completely insistent that the Dark One is the one who kidnapped Emma, not him.”

David’s hackles go up. “The Dark One.”

“No one has heard from him in decades, not since everything he’d planned for Regina fell apart; why would he resurface now?” Snow asked, and David could tell she was ready to dismiss the possibility.

Graham shrugged. “We have no way to confirm his story. Captain Hook is a well-known con man with a rumored feud with the Dark One. He could be trying to get our help with some sort of revenge, using Emma as leverage.”

Admittedly, that sounded more reasonable than Rumplestiltskin deciding to come out of the woodwork after almost thirty years of absolute silence.

A beat passes. “I want to talk to him,” Snow says.

“Your Majesty, I don’t think that would be wise to give him exactly what he wants—”

“He has Emma, Graham,” she snaps, “and I am fully prepared to give him absolutely anything he wants, quite frankly, to assure her safety.”

He bristles, “I want Emma safe, too, Snow.”

David glances between them, his wife and one of their most loyal friends. “I think we should talk to him,” David finally says. They both look over. “What’s the harm? If nothing comes of it, we will leave him to you,” he nods at Graham, “and if he unintentionally reveals something while trying to swindle us? All the better.”

Graham nods. “As you wish.”

“Bring him to the throne room immediately. We’ll be waiting,” Snow says.

With a salute and a heel turn, Graham is gone.

As soon as the door closes behind the captain, Snow’s posture sags and she places a supporting hand on the council table. Her breathing goes deep and rapid, and her other hand goes to her abdomen. “David, I might need you to loosen my corset.”

“Snow,” he says, trying to hide his own fear for his wife’s benefit, “We need to stay calm.”

“Calm!” There is fire in her eyes when she turns to him. “My daughter may have been kidnapped by pirates for ransom and you’re telling me to stay calm?!” Her fast breathing turns into quick pacing, “Here we were assuming that she just wanted to get out of the palace for a while, but what if our security has gotten so lax that we basically invited them to take her—” she claps a hand over her mouth, and David steps up behind her and takes hold of her shoulders to halt her pacing.

“Snow,” he says again. “I’m scared too, but we absolutely cannot panic.” He reaches for the laces on her corset, and loosens the first tie. He doesn’t need a passed-out wife to deal with on top of the missing daughter.

David continues as he pulls each crossed lace enough to give Snow more breathing room, “It will take a few minutes for Graham to bring Hook up to the throne room—”

“Gods, and Captain Hook of all the pirates,” Snow breathes, but she sounds less frantic.

“I know,” David soothes. He ties off the corset again, and pulls Snow around to face him. Her arms immediately go around him. “We have a few minutes before we need to be there. And I need badass bandit Snow to come out, all right?”

“Right,” she says, and he can hear the smile.

He pulls away and frames her face with his hands. “We’ll be together the whole time.”

“Together,” Snow repeats, their mantra, and David is so proud of her.

“Let’s go.”

The throne room is not their usual forte. Typically they receive guests in the main foyer, the ball room, the dining hall, or the myriad of tea rooms and libraries that are perfectly adequate in style and function. However, there are occasional moments when the intimidation and sheer majesty that comes along with sitting on the thrones in the massive, ostentatious hall is necessary.

He and Snow are seated side-by-side when the massive double doors at the opposite end of the room are pulled open by the two attendants, revealing two guards with a shackled man between them. Graham stands slightly ahead and to the right of the prisoner, and leads the group down the long room towards the dais where the thrones are raised above the floor.

Captain Hook is not what David imagined. He imagined someone much older, perhaps with a cocky swagger and a feathered cap. Someone who would be described by innkeepers as eight feet tall and broad as a bear across. Someone who could inhabit all the legends surrounding them. Someone larger than life.

But this man is not much older than Emma, and looks—desperate. Frightened. Almost small in a way that doesn’t seem to be this man’s true nature. Apparently, a long, black leather coat and vest had been taken off his person when he’d been arrested, along with at least seven weapons, as well as the brace that holds his infamous hook. He only has on a loose black shirt, leather pants, and a set of boots.

He is, to David’s surprise, entirely underwhelming.

To compensate for the lack of hand that handcuffs would require to work, it seems that Graham has shackled the pirate’s ankles and just above his elbows to do the job.

“On your knees before the Queen and King,” Graham orders tersely when they arrive at the dais. The guards flanking him don’t wait for Hook to obey before pushing him down before them. Up close, he looks pale and his eyes swollen and red-rimmed. David feels strangely ill at the sight of a man clearly wrung out and forced to his knees.

Hook’s first words to them are strained, “Please, your Majesties, you have to believe me. The Dark One has Emma, and I—”

“You’ll speak when you’re spoken to,” Snow interrupts, the imperiousness of her position ringing in the grand hall.

“With all due respect, no,” Hook hisses, surprising David, “we don’t have time for this rigamarole, we need to find—”

A well-placed kick from a guard to the pirate’s abdomen cuts off his next words. “Shut your mouth, pirate.”

“Sims,” Graham snaps. The one who’d kicked Hook, Sims, looks chastened beneath his visor. “This isn’t the Evil Queen’s kingdom anymore. Act like it.”

“Yes, sir.”

A beat of awkwardness passes before Snow speaks again. “Where is the princess?”

“I’ve already told you,” Hook says. “The Dark One kidnapped her.”

David cocks a brow. “And you know this how? Do you work for Rumplestiltskin?”

“I would rather die,” he responds, clipped and matter-of-fact. A short silence follows, as Hook seems to search for the right words. “I was with her when the bastard took her.”

David asks, “And why was Emma with you? She’s not stupid, she wouldn’t dabble with common criminals for a laugh.”

“Choose your next words wisely,” Snow warns, “because my husband was rather generous when he described you as a common criminal. You have more than earned a death penalty in many kingdoms who would be all too willing to take you off our hands.”

David refuses the urge to look over at Snow, needing to present a united front. Snow is hardly an iron-fisted ruler, but her threats always have teeth, and to say that he’s surprised she’s threatening this man with death would be an understatement.

Hook’s eyes drop to the floor, and the breath he takes is shaky. He whispers something David can’t hear into the floor before he looks up. “Because I love her.” It’s quiet, but… definitive and calm in a way David did not expect. It’s also the absolute last answer either of them were anticipating.

“Excuse me?” Snow says.

Louder now, Hook says, “I love her. We have been secretly courting for the last six years.”

David’s jaw drops, and he doesn’t need to look at Snow to know that she looks much the same. “That’s—”

“How—”

“You’re—”

“That’s—”

“How—”

“That’s impossible!” Snow finally settles on. “She would have told us!”

“Would she have?” Hook responds, in that same sure, quiet tone as before. One that makes David want to believe him, despite what it would mean. It would mean that their daughter has been lying to them for years, has been keeping a massive secret for over half a decade.

It could also mean Hook is just a very, very good actor.

“Yes,” Snow insists.

“Why would I come here if I’m not telling the truth?” Hook asks. “It would be suicide to ride to your gates and offer myself up. And since I do, in fact, value my own life, well.” The intensity of Hook’s gaze is startling, as though by sheer force of will alone he can make them believe him. “No one has asked for ransom. I haven’t asked for a single thing except that you help me rescue her.”

“This is preposterous,” Snow declares, “You are a pirate and a villain. I might not know much about my daughter’s romantic tastes, but I’m sure they don’t stray towards the violent sociopath side of the scale. Captain Humbert—” Graham stands at attention, “—take this man back to the dungeon. We shall see about extradition after we find out where they are hiding Emma.”

Hook’s eyes widen in panic when he realizes his story isn’t taking hold. “Please!” The guards force him to his feet, but he refuses to move from where he stands in front of the dais. “You have to believe me! She is in very real danger and you can’t just—”

“Let’s go,” Graham says, and the guards begin to drag the pirate backwards.

“He’s going to kill her!” Hook begins to struggle more violently, dropping a shoulder and throwing it into the guard at his left. A loud oof! sounds from the man, and Graham orders two guards along the wall to assist. The throne room knights converge on the pirate. His struggles had been adequate to delay the two guards, but four succeed in beginning to drag him back towards the doors. “Please, you have to believe me!” he shouts again.

David finally spares a glance over at Snow, and despite her cold expression, he can see in her eyes that she’s anything but certain. “We need to see how many councilors have arrived, because we need to convene immediately,” Snow says to him. She’s barely holding it together, and so she turns and starts to head for their private exit. David follows.

“Her favorite color is yellow because it reminds her of buttercups!” Hook finally yells, voice hoarse and breaking over the syllables.

Both he and Snow freeze.

“She has a set of freckles on her back that looks like Cassiopeia,” he continues, fighting against the increasingly frustrated hands of the guards. David looks back and sees Graham hesitating. “She adores cinnamon and cannot stand horseradish. Her horse is named Tuppence because of her favorite book when she was a child, and—and she always brought home birds with broken wings and rats with missing paws because she couldn’t stand to see a creature in pain. She’s got a—a beautiful voice even though she hates to sing. She curses like a sailor and I love her more than life itself, and even if you execute me here and now I beg you to please save her.”

“Snow,” David says, and he can’t deny the truth now. This pirate, for all the difficulty it might cause them, loves their daughter. He would have to to know these things. Even if she were captured, it’s not like Emma would share things like that with someone holding her hostage.

“Let him go,” Snow commands, and descends from the dais and strides towards Hook.

Graham has been the Captain of their guard about as long as Emma has been alive—he knows the princess almost as well as her own parents—and commands the guards to release their charge. He reaches for the keys at his belt, and the shackles on Hook are soon on the floor.

Hook, for his part, looks flabbergasted, and his eyes dart up to Snow and David, who stop just short of him.

Snow looks contrite, but overriding that is a deep sympathy. She tries, “I—” but can’t seem to find the words. David is only a little shocked when she closes the distance and wraps Hook in a hug that he was absolutely not expecting.

His arms remain frozen, his eyes mildly panicked, his entire posture screaming indecision. David idly wonders how long it’s been since someone hugged him—besides Emma, he supposes.

Snow pulls back but leaves her hands on Hook’s shoulders. “I still have a lot of questions,” she says slowly, “but I think we can manage to hold off on those until Emma is back safely with us.”

Hook sighs then, the last bit of overt tension draining from his frame. Now, the only tension remaining is in his eyes and his jaw as he replies, “Aye.” He squares his shoulders in a way that gives David pause because he looks—very nearly military in that moment. “We should pool what we know. Come up with a plan of attack.”

David nods. “We should convene with the Council.”

Snow nods, and gestures over her shoulder to Hook. “This way.”

He is introduced to the small gathering as Captain Hook and an ally to the throne, with no mention being made of his brief time in custody. They’d given him back all that had been taken off him when he’d been arrested, so he feels a little less naked standing in front of the Council.

(Admittedly, riding straight to the palace and announcing that their future sovereign had been kidnapped was not his best plan by half. In terms of efficiency, however, of getting over the awkwardness of having to tell Emma’s parents that they’d been intimately involved? It functioned as well as anything else he might’ve been able to come up with had his mind not been occupied with worry for Emma, and the myriad of ways he wanted to slowly and painfully kill the Crocodile.)

He knows how rumor mills work, especially in close quarters, so he figures they all likely know about it by now, even if they haven’t heard about the scene he’d caused in the throne room. However, instead of questioning him, they seem content to follow the lead of their queen and king in planning the rescue effort for Emma.

“So Hook,” asks the woman who was introduced as Mulan, “you’ve hunted the Dark One for many years. I imagine what you know could fill a library--why is it you need the crown’s assistance?”

“Because I’ve hunted him for years and yet he still lives,” Killian answers. And that’s the real rub of this whole ordeal, isn’t it? If Killian had succeeded, if he’d taken the Crocodile down years ago, if he hadn’t failed over and over and over again to find a way to successfully kill the beast, then Emma would be perfectly safe. “I’m not willing to risk Emma’s life for my own pride.”

If any of them are surprised by his lack of formal address of their princess, they don’t show it. The woman to Mulan’s left is the next to speak--Ruby, her name is. “What strategic intelligence can you offer, then?”

“There are plenty of things out there that can kill him, despite what he’d have anyone think. Weapons to cut immortal ties, weapons that can end curses. Eternal traps, as well. He feared Pandora’s Box more than just about anything I can remember.” He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table. “But as far as I can tell, he has found every single item that can trap him or do him harm, and has locked it away in his castle. Or he’s put an impossible enchantment on it, like he did Excalibur.”

“An impossible enchantment?” asks Ruby.

Killian shrugs. “I can’t remember the verbiage of it, but it’s trapped in an ancient, enchanted stone. Since Rumplestiltskin himself couldn’t draw it out, he cast a spell that would turn anyone who tried into dust.

“It’s a fool’s errand to seek Excalibur,” Killian concludes. “You’d throw more lives away trying to break the spell than it would save.”

“So what do you suggest?” Snow asks.

Killian sighs. “He keeps the most dangerous of his treasures in an underground vault.”

“So we break in, grab what we need, and then we’re good?” David asks.

“If it were that simple, I’d’ve been able to kill him a century ago.”

“Wait, how long ago?” David asks.

Killian winces a little. “I’m a bit older than I look,” he says, and quickly moves on to avoid any lingering questions about his age. “But the vault is enchanted to the teeth, and it doesn’t have any windows or doors. Completely physically sealed off.”

“He would need a--a vent or something, right? Air pressure might make it collapse otherwise,” Mulan suggests.

Killian leans back again. “Magic. And I’ve tried to get in every way a layperson without magic can. Teleportation scrolls, tunneling spells, magic beans. All have failed. What we need is an extremely powerful magic user who is able to bypass the security enchantments he’s put on the vault that can teleport us in. And before you suggest it,” Killian warns, “no, fairy magic will not work. Even pixie dust won’t make a dent.”

“We know such a magic user,” Snow says.

David looks over at her. “We do?”

Snow ignores him. “She lives in a village on the way to the Dark One’s castle, just outside our kingdom.”

“Snow,” warns Ruby, trepidation on her face. The rest of the councilors look equally nervous.

David seems to catch up to his wife’s thoughts at that moment. “Oh no. Snow, you can’t be serious.”

She looks over at David. “I am. Emma’s life could very well be in danger. Regina is our best bet.”

Killian finally realizes why her suggestion caused such a stir. “Regina? Your mean the Evil Queen who ruled your kingdom a few decades back? Waged war against you two personally? Who murdered the king, your father, if I’m not mistaken?”

“The very same,” Snow says coolly.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but as I understand it, there is no love lost between you three. What makes you think she’ll help?” Killian asks.

Snow’s expression is steely when she answers, “She owes me one.” She meets the eyes of the Council as she continues, “Both David and I will ride out with Hook. A smaller strike force for a mission like this is ideal, and approaching Regina with just the three of us looks a lot less suspicious than sending a few soldiers or a messenger in our stead. She’ll be more willing to help us if we ask her personally.”

“And then you ride home after we enlist the sorceress,” Killian says, concluding the plan. It’s not an awful one--Regina is certainly powerful, and she was trained by the Dark One, so she might know him and his castle even better than Killian. The story of how she stopped from casting the Dark Curse is muddled, and there are at least ten or so versions swirling around, but the one consistent is Rumplestiltskin’s meddling. The old queen has a penchant for revenge, so perhaps it won’t be so hard to convince her once she learns he plans to kill the old beast--

“No, we’ll be going to save Emma ourselves,” Snow says, and Killian’s musings screech to a halt.

“What?” he asks.

“We’re coming,” David affirms. “Just because we’re older doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten how to fight.”

“Besides,” Snow adds with a strained smile, “It’s been too long since David and I have had a proper adventure. And knowing Rumplestiltskin, having a True Love’s Kiss handy will probably be wise.”

Killian looks around at the room, and is shocked to see nods in agreement.

“Are you all mad?”

“Pardon?” Ruby asks, aghast.

Killian scoffs. “I’m the only one not sitting on a political council, and yet somehow I am the only one who sees the blatant idiocy in sending the only two people who have a legal claim over the throne after their only heir who is being held by a homicidal maniac.” Around the table, he’s met with some contemplative looks, others blank. His gaze finally makes it back to Snow and David, whose silent conversation ends after a few moments and they turn to look at him.

Snow says, “We haven’t had dealings with the Dark One since before Emma was born--”

“Did you ever make a deal agreeing to give him your firstborn?” Killian interrupts urgently, a wave of memory coming over him like suffocation, remembering Milah’s despair and fear that the deal her husband made might extend to any of her future children (their children, had been the undercurrent.)

“No,” David says vehemently. “Absolutely not.”

“The reason we stopped--” Snow shakes her head. “Look, we stopped making deals with him when Regina revealed how far his machinations went and she didn’t cast the Dark Curse. He always wanted something from David and me. We weren’t so dense to think that the price for all the deals we made was always so light--he must’ve needed us for something.” She straightens her shoulders. “I’m hoping that’s still true.”

Killian bristles. “Hope is a veneer, not a bedrock.”

Snow tilts her head. “You’re awfully cynical, aren’t you, Hook?”

He laughs sharply at that. Emma had asked him the exact same question many years ago. He gives Snow the same answer he’d given Emma, “Not cynical. Realistic.”

“And having hope isn’t realistic?”

Six years ago, he would’ve answered without hesitation. Six year ago, he hadn’t had any hope. Now, his hope sits in the clutches of his worst enemy.

His answering smile is humorless. “Haven’t always had the best track record with it, I’m afraid.”

He takes stock of the room again. None of the councilors seem inclined to fight the decision their monarchs have made; at most, several of them look favorably in his direction, but none are willing to protest. He raises his hand and hook in defeat. “I can’t stop you. I’ve stated my objections. I came for help, no matter how I can get it.”

David rises from his seat. “Trust us, Hook. We will get Emma back.”

He knows that they both believe that. Maybe there is something to the stories he’d always heard in Neverland, about the power of belief, but he has always been a pragmatist. He isn’t so prideful to think that once they have Regina on their side, their fight will be easily won. No, he knows that anything worth fighting for like this is paid for in blood.

He’ll just have to make sure his is the only one spilled.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs smut #cs au ff #cs au #my fic #there were definitely people who asked to be tagged if i ever got back around #to updating this verse #and to them i say i am so sorry i cannot remember who you are #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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sidesandsanders · 5 years

Note

How would the boys be around a pregnant reader? I feel like it would just be endless protectiveness.

Wrote this while I was on my period so catch me crying over this one more than once.

Roman:

- Doting boyfriend 100%. He isn’t much more protective than normal, but he’s pretty much waiting on you hand and foot through the whole process. No, you absolutely may not do that by yourself, and don’t you dare try to lift anything even remotely heavy, The Honorable Prince Roman is here helping you for a reason!

- He also uses it as an excuse to carry you around bridal-style as much as possible. Doesn’t matter if you’re the punkest, most muscular badass ever, or the tiniest little flower child to ever exist. You cannot escape the inevitable, and the inevitable is you getting scooped up like a giant cabbage patch doll by your boyfriend.

Logan:

- He starts stocking up on helpful gadgets the moment your gaze lingers on the pregnancy tests in the pharmacy. Heated blankets? Books on every possible subject you might need? Comfort objects for you to cling to during bad mood swings? Memory foam bodypillows molded to your body type and comfort preferences? Check to everything. All hypoallergenic, of course, what kind of fool do you take him for?

- He reads to you, and to your belly on occasion. Sometimes it’s kid’s stories, or parenting books, but other times it’s university level psychology or astronomy textbooks. He usually likes it best when you’re alert and invested, but if you’re tired or having trouble getting to sleep he’ll switch his voice to a perfect monotone that lulls you right to sleep.

Patton:

- The most excited out of all of them. He loves kids, he loves you, and he loves being able to help people. Now you’re giving him the opportunity to do all that at once and it’s just giving him so many feelings. You’re going to have one very cuddly, affectionate, bubbly boyfriend taking care of you. If you had any doubts about wether or not you’ll be good parents, just a couple minutes with Patton and you’ll know for sure the two of you will do great.

- Even when the mood swings hit he stands strong. If you’re sad he’s there with hugs and feel good movies to happy-cry with you to. If you’re mad he’s actually really good at conflict deescalation, and when he’s done you won’t even remember why you were upset in the first place.

Virgil:

- Well obviously anxious boy here is anxious. He double-triple checks everything. The house is baby-proof 3 months into the pregnancy. The fridge is stocked, the blankets and pillows all piled on the bed, your phone has him on speed-dial, and when he’s finally satisfied with his work, he’ll pass out next to you with his arms wrapped around your middle, right under the bump.

- The baby WILL grow up emo. Once Virgil is satisfied with the safety aspect of everything, he makes it a mission to deck the nursery out in purple and black, full of spiderweb prints, bats, black cats, the works. He paints your belly to look like a pumpkin for Halloween. He found a plush bat the size of a watermelon to be the kid’s first toy.

Deceit:

- He’s very calm through the whole thing, studying parenting books and making sure you’re not doing anything too physically strenuous. He basically forces you to relax, even if you wanted to do chores he makes sure there aren’t even any left to do. “It’s a chance to be absolutely spoiled for a time, why not take advantage of this opportunity? Just sit back down, darling, and let me handle everything.

- He finds it incredibly amusing to confuse strangers who ask stupid questions. “Oh dearie you look about ready to pop” says a kindly old woman at the grocery store. “Yes I’m afraid there’s a cantaloupe growing in there, I warned against going vegan but alas, they’re quite stubborn” says Deceit.

Remus:

- Enthusiastically indulges your weird cravings. The stranger the better, he snatches up all kind of random foods in the hope that you’ll put together some mismatched cacophony of flavors and discover a masterpiece. He makes a lot of ice cream based dishes, most of them sweet. He’s also very likely to lick the bits of sugar stuck to the corners of your mouth off of your face. It’s cute, in a way.

- Physical affection turned up to 11. Not a moment goes by that he’s not glued to your side, nuzzling your neck, cuddling up to you, laying his head on your lap, kissing your belly, everything you can think of. He just wants to hold you close forever! Even on the worst days, when you haven’t showered in a week, you’re sweating, you’re nauseous, you’re puking your guts out while sitting half-naked on the bathroom floor and sobbing in time to Pixar, he’s there with his arms wrapped around you, rubbing your belly and leaning his head on your back.

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ohmightydevviepuu · 5 years

Text

cell block 1138 (part 3)

part one | part two | AO3 part two of sanguine, adj. ‘hopeful’ (it also means bloody) (part one: proximity alert)

After their meeting in 'Proximity Alert', Emma and Killian undertake a dangerous mission. She needed help, and she'd come to him.

Even if all of it was a lie, he was going to help her. His reasons were his own.

(loosely based on the firefly episode 'war stories')

for @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite, always

tagging @kmomof4 @shardminds @stahlop @mariakov81 @quirkykayleetam

Emma heard Killian scream. His back was right up against hers and the sound reverberated through her body in much the same way the accompanying electric current did as it pulled at her, forcing her back toward consciousness. She was awake, that was the first thing, even if she regretted it. It was better than the alternative--awake meant alive, and alive meant--

“Ah,” Robert Gold’s voice was slippery. Even blindfolded, Emma didn’t have to work hard to imagine the gold-toothed grin or the way his tongue licked his lips in anticipation. “Miss Swan. How lovely of you to join us.”

The current rushed through her again, and it hurt--that was the second thing--but it was still less shocking, somehow, than the sound of Killian’s voice next to her. Emma was all agony, listening, knowing that all of it was because of her, because she couldn’t, just once, trust him, not even when she had been the betrayer every time . From the moment they’d met, right through the moment she’d punched him in the face and left him to be caught.

What she hadn’t expected was to find herself strung up beside him.

The only way this ended was badly. That was the third thing.

Because if Robert Gold had her, had both of them, Emma knew what that meant. She knew the history between these two men, had known it since the first time she’d sought him out and she’d known it the instant that Robert Gold offered her a deal. It was a barely-buried hatched that Gold still wanted to put through Killian’s skull and would, finally, now that he had the opportunity.

The opportunity that Federation Operative Emma Swan had afforded him.

Gold was going to use her, and her secrets, to break the man she loved. Killian didn’t know--she’d never told him, never said the words, but it had been there in the air all the same, unspoken and heavy and buried beneath all of the other things she had never told him. Federation Operative Emma Swan was not a woman who could love. She didn’t have that luxury--she had a purpose. She was a woman who had chased down every lead and exhausted every option until the night she’d found herself in a dark room with a bad idea--and Killian Jones.

I love you .

It was always a dark room and a bad idea with Killian Jones, and this was no exception. Killian Jones, who was a man who believed in second chances--or even third ones--but he was not a man who was quick to forgive secrets. Gold knew this. Emma could hear the anticipation in his voice. At least if Killian never forgave her for this, it meant he was alive to carry the grudge.

The current ran through her again. It was a tease, a fraction of the voltage that had been used on Killian, who was sucking air behind her. If she twisted her arm just the right way, she would be able to touch him--but that would telling Gold too much.

“We’re going to play a game,” Gold said, caressing every syllable in his relish. “And I’m going to offer you a deal. Tell me, are you familiar with the saying, ‘the deeper the lie, the more truth in its echo’?”

Maybe she should reach for Killian, to allow herself, just one more time, the comfort of his skin against hers--because Gold clearly already knew everything, and there would be no winners in this game.

The rules were simple: talk, and the voltage got turned down. Withhold, and everything cranked back up.

There was no point to it, except for Gold’s glee. Their secrets-- her secrets--were the only weapons he needed.

“Let’s play, shall we?” he whispered.

Killian spat. “This would have been easier if you had just arrested me,” he said.

Emma’s eyes flew open under her blindfold.

“Why didn’t you?” His breathing was still labored, and he coughed. Emma tried not to imagine that he was coughing blood, but she’d seen this type of interrogation before. There was always blood.

“You slipped the cuffs,” Emma said, trying to sound casual. She heard the hum of the electricity and knew she’d failed.

“The first time,” Killian said, before pausing for another breath. “What about the times after that?”

“I told you I’d find you,” Emma said. Her voice was barely a whisper as she contemplated the wreckage all around her: Killian would almost definitely be dead before this night was over. She might be, as well. And that left Gold with--

“Liar.” It was punctuated by another cough. “Tell me why, Swan. I deserve to know.”

I love you. Even now, it hung in the air between them, and Emma tried to use that to pull herself upright again.

“I’m not asking you to be with me,” Killian said. “I just want to acknowledge how we ended up here.”

Gold giggled, and Emma heard the sound of the current go up half an octave. It whined in her ears and she could feel the sound in her skull. She tried to imagine herself somewhere far away from here--anywhere else--both of them. Far from this. What a luxury that would be--to be better. To be gentle.

To be honest. Emma closed her eyes.

“You were scared,” Killian said. “We were scared. It’s the only reason that makes sense. We never put ourselves on the line because we were afraid to.”

He sounded, suddenly, so angry. It pulled Emma right back into the moment, and the nightmare, and Emma wanted to rage at him. What right did he have to be angry about anything? So he had been dealt a shitty hand--well, so had she. She had taken her shitty hand and played it, played it until she’d lost everything. So had he. She straightened herself up, bracing herself against her restraints.

“I did what I do,” Emma said. “I had a target and an objective. You.”

“‘What you do’,” Killian repeated, incredulous. “You do that with all of your marks?”

If Emma’s blood didn’t already feel like it was boiling, she would have blushed. “It was just business.”

“Which part? The being with me, or the walking away? Or maybe it was the punch in the face?”

The current raged; Killian screamed, and Gold laughed. “Oh, Miss Swan,” he purred. “Tell him, dearie. Let’s get the true measure of him.”

Emma stiffened at Gold insinuating that they were somehow a team.

Even though it was true.

Killian ignored him. “I don’t know what we’re doing here, Swan, but we’re past pretending any of this is business.” He spat again--blood, most likely. That was a very bad sign.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Emma said. She was yelling, and the words came in gasps. “You want to know why I walked away? You want to know how we ended up here tonight?”

She loved him. Maybe she had since that first night, since that first dark room and the first bad idea.

“I made a deal,” she said. “To find my son, I made a deal.”

Killian spat again while Emma held her breath. There was no hum of current--no shock, and no scream. There was only Gold, giggling.

He had won.

“Do you ever count them, Swan?” Killian’s voice rasped but did nothing to disguise the anger, or the betrayal. Emma had betrayed him.

Every. Single. Time.

She could feel the heat of tears under her blindfold as he said, “The people whose lives you’ve ruined, Swan, do you ever count them? Tell me. Give me an estimate. Tell me the ones who deserved it--or better, tell me the ones who didn’t.”

Gold ran the current, and Emma shrieked, a discordant harmony with Killian’s own cry. It was a primal sound, the first one she had made. It was a sound of release, and of rage, and of pain as she shook, her hands rattling against the cuffs. She coughed, a broken thing that wracked her body; Killian made a noise, and Emma could almost believe she heard sympathy.

Not for her, she thought. Not anymore.

“My son didn’t deserve it,” she said, still vibrating with emotion, anger that had cooled into something almost like relief, because--at least now he knew.

I love you.

“No,” Killian said. His voice lowered. “Is that why, Swan? Why you--” he bit the word off. “Was it penance?”

The shock ran through her and Emma almost didn’t feel it. She was--how could he--he had no idea--

She loved him. She loved him. It pulsed through her in time with her coughing, in time with the sobs building up inside of her.

The tears pricked and Emma felt them fall. “You would have done the same,” she said, barely hanging on to the steadiness in her voice.

“No,” Killian said. He was still angry, but Emma felt movement, his hand against hers pushing something into her curled fingers.

“Liar,” Gold growled. “Tell her, Captain . Tell her what you did with her son.”

Emma’s blindfold had slipped and she could see Gold’s face, the contortion of his lips into a snarl to go along with the harsh sibilants his accent slurred.

“Her son?” Killian sounded weaker with every word, but still registered surprise as he spoke.

‘Henry,” Emma said. “His name is Henry. Henry Cassidy.”

It was Killian’s turn to stiffen, and then he gasped with pain at the effort the movement cost him. He was fading. Emma felt another surge of rage, her fingers clamped down on whatever Killian had given her, and then she inhaled, deeply, from the sharp edge cutting into her palm--

“He knows where you son is,” Gold said. “And I will honor our deal, Miss Swan, just as soon as I--”

Emma didn’t let him finish. She pulled herself free of the cuffs and heard the small sharp pick fall to the floor as she did so. Gold hissed in displeasure and she hurled herself at him. Gold was many things: rich, powerful, dangerous and terrifying. He was not, however, physically strong or commanding in any way. He went down easy and stayed down when she grabbed his walking stick and used it as leverage.

For the moment.

“He won’t be out long,” Emma warned, turning back to Killian. His blindfold was gone, and his expression was resigned. There was no time to get him out, not to get him out--not with the small pick already lost and broken somewhere in the debris on the floor--

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “Go.” He coughed, and Emma saw the blood. It was worse than she’d imagined, to see it spatter against the wall.

“What--” Emma sputtered. “No!”

“Go, Swan. Save yourself. Save your son.” Killian said.

Gold stirred. Emma looked at the door, with no visible lock, and thought of the long hallway beyond.

“Is what he said true?” Emma asked. “Do you know what happened to my son?”

“Go!” Killian shouted. “Now, Swan.”

“I need to know,” Emma said. She was begging. She never begged. “Tell me this wasn’t all for nothing.”

“My crew--” he coughed. “My crew will help you.”

“I’ll find you,” she said. It was a promise, not a threat.

“You always do.”

“Killian--” Emma said. She looked at him, then looked at the door again. She took a deep breath and said: “I love you.”

She yanked the door open and ran through, kicking it behind her to jam the mechanism, throwing an elbow into the electric control panel for good measure.

After that, she didn’t stop running until she reached her shuttle.

With trembling hands and freely-falling tears, Emma keyed in the ignition sequence and hailed the Jolly Roger .

#cs fic #space pirates

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wildefire · 5 years

Text

Gotta Be Prepared

This is for @teamcap4bucky‘s 2K challenge. I was cleaning out my docs and saw this, and had an immediate reaction of “COME ON MAN” because I was supposed to have posed this 80 million years ago.

Steve Rogers x (Female)reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Mention of minor injury and alcohol, swearing.

Life being an Avenger was… interesting. You fought, you seduced, you fought some more, and a majority of the time you loved what you did. You were just a normal human, but you did think of yourself as a little above standard… which is why, currently, you’re running a training op with SHIELD trainees. In the woods. You know, just the normal stuff.

Wrong. You were up against a team that was mixed with the Avengers, and trainees. Of course, you weren’t quite against having mostly enhanced people coming after you. Except, you were you; cocky, secure, confidant, and most of all, you really wanted to win.

Each Avenger had their own squad of trainees that they coached and helped out- which was quite beneficial to both parties, because trainees were well-versed in some things that some of the avengers couldn’t do. (SHIELD trainees could, and would run kill missions for SHIELD against HYDRA or AIM members, or run a capture of someone too high-profile for the Avengers to go after, with the whole sokovia accords thing. The Avengers couldn’t operate in Berlin, but SHIELD agents could because, you know, the whole “dead” organization thing. Most were operating under some form of intelligence committee, namely agencies like INTERPOL and the CIA- sometimes the NSA.)

The woods really are pretty in springtime. Especially in upstate New York, where there's a different vibe to everything. More calm, less chaos. Sadly, you didn’t have time to climb the Oaks, or look at the pretty flowers. You only had time to quietly tell your teammates orders, and observe your surroundings.

“Alright guys. So, this is the plan. Run like hell. Bucky and Steve are fast as fuck, and they also know how to move suddenly, so zig-zagging won’t work. The main goal is to outsmart them. Do whatever you can to get them to not come after you, but, please don’t let them catch you. If one of you goes down, I don’t get the chance at the spa day, and neither do you. Who you really want to watch out for, though, is Natasha. She’s silent, and, as you all know, deadly. If you see her, you best be sprinting as fast as you can. Don’t hide, it doesn’t go well. Clint can see a mile away, but if you make it difficult for him, he may give up, but it’s not likely. If you see him, he can see you. If you can’t see him… well, he may be able to see you. Stay in groups of two. If one goes down, the other does too. I’ll be with y’all. Now, be free!”

At that, your team runs off in their partners. You decided that you’d have fun, and climb a tree and be Tarzan for a minute. Once you’d gotten to the strong branches, you stood up, get your balance, and began to run. You jumped from tree to tree, branches whipping your face and leaves getting caught in your hair, but you didn’t care. You loved it. As you jumped to the ground, you heard your earpiece crackle.

“Y/n, what do you do if your teammate sprained their ankle?”

“You do exactly what you’re doing right now. Where are you?”

“A clearing with three oaks and a patch of lavender. I think we’re near a creek?”

“I know where you are. I’ll be there in two minutes tops.”

You looked around, making sure that nobody was near you. They weren’t. You ran forwards, and took a left, jumping over a fallen log and rolling under another. You stood up, and froze- you thought that you’d heard a voice that most certainly not your teammates. Better get there fast, you thought. You continued running, and took a few more jumps and bounds, over small canyons, or dips in the ground. You burst into the clearing, and saw your teammates.

“Ryan, Quincy, are you both sure that you weren’t followed,” you asked in a whisper. Both looked at you with wide eyes, and then at each other. Newbies, they didn’t know. You sighed, and motioned for Quincy to hold out her ankle. It was sprained, pretty badly. You took out an ace bandage from her backpack, as well as some aspirin. You wrapped her ankle, and made her take the painkillers. It’d help with the soreness a little later, and with the pain now. You hoisted her up, and brought her to a log.

“I’m gonna have to call Rhodey, so he can take you to the infirmary. I’ll take up being Ryan’s partner, and you don’t have to worry, you won’t be punished. You guys are new, and this means that you can learn from it, and be stronger.” You took out a walkie-talkie, and spoke into it.

“Rhodey, I need a lift out for one of my teammates, she sprained her ankle, and can’t participate in the game.”

“I’ll be there in five, can you put a tracker out so I know exactly where she is?”

“Already out. See you after, Rhodey.” “See you after. Good luck, Y/n.”

You turned off the walkie-talkie, and put it back into Quincy’s bag. “So long, dearie. You’ll be right as rain once you’ve been put into the machine.”

Her expression was between scared and confused. You looked at Ryan, and jerked your head to the right, and began to run. You could hear him swear, and hightail it after you. Your earpiece crackle again, and this time it was FRIDAY, letting you know the point of which you would be winning at. You stopped, and so did Ryan.

“We’re going to go to that tree on the left, and then we’re gonna have to Tarzan it for a second, if we wanna be in the clear of Barnes and Rogers. They typically guard the first Mile around the checkpoint.”

“Tarzan it?”

“We’re going to be running around in the trees, as well as jumping from tree from tree. I know that you have telekinesis. That is useful, and this is a good test to your ability to multitask.”

He nods, and you leap up into the tree, aided by a telekinetic boost. The both of you begin to run, Ryan following your directions. You begin to slow, and Ryan stops your movement, and keeps you steady on the branch.

“Ok, so game plan. We’re gonna get out of the trees, and we’re gonna make a break for it. If one of the two soldiers show up, run as fucking fast as you can.”

“Got it.”

“Go.”

The both of you ran, and it was glorious for the time that lasted. Soon you saw a giant blonde man running for you, and you swore.

You shouted at Ryan “GO, GO, GO,” and kicked your speed up to a full-out sprint. He went left, and you went right, both in a dead sprint. You could see the checkpoint ahead, and Ryan did too. Neither of you let up with your speed, and you dove forwards. So did he, and you both made it.

“Holy shit, I just outran a supersoldier! Y/n, I just outran a supersoldier!”

“Congratulations, Ryan! That’s a feat that not many accomplish,” you said. “Our team has won! Now we don’t have to do 3 am’s for the next week! And, I get a spa day too, which is pretty awesome.” You looked at Steve, who was just… standing there.

“There was a prize for us?”

“Yep. We just didn’t tell you, because we wanted it to be fueled by the need to win, not for a proposed outcome other than winning.”

“Makes sense, I think.” At that moment, Steve turned his head, and sprinted in the direction of which he’d come. You noted this wearily, and so did Ryan.

“Yeah, I don’t get it either. I’m driven on a reward-based system. Do this workout, eat some cookies. Deadlift this weight, get my hair dyed, that sort of thing.”

“I’m not sure what my drive is, to be honest.”

“That's fine! You’re still young. I think. How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“Yeah! You’re still young! You have time. For now, just follow your gut, and, of course, your orders.”

You could hear the undergrowth crunching and twigs snapping as people ran towards the two of you, hoping for security and safety. You wished them the best, but you knew that your team had already won. You grinned as you saw Bucky barreling towards them, running faster that anyone (except for Steve) could. You saw that it wasn’t anyone from your team, and had no qualms about them getting tagged. Just as Barnes was about to grab them, one of them crashed, head over heels. Game over. You smirked, left the circle, and offered your hand. “Do you need Advil? That looked like a rough fall.” The trainee grabbed your hand, and pulled herself up. “I’d love Advil. Maybe a margarita too.”

“Ha! I think that can be arranged.”

“Advil, please.”

“I got you. Take off your bag.” She took it off, and sat down on the ground. You took out her water bottle and the pills, and handed them to her. “Sometimes my ability to foresee this type of thing comes in handy, right?” She nods as she swallows, and then there's an awkward silence. Oh, forget this, this is NOT it. You get up, look around, and sigh.

“I don’t think that anyone is going to get here soon, so I’m gonna bounce. I know that y’all are probably pretty tired, but I’m antsy as fuck-” Lie “-so, I’ll see y’all later. Toodles.”

You walk away from the trio, and begin the trek (three minute walk) back to the compound, and you take out your phone for scientific purposes (to scroll through instagram) as you walk. You get so engrossed that you don’t hear the pounding feet and crunching leaves, which signal the incoming (typical) supersoldier. You only know that someone is behind you when you get tackled, and go tumbling towards the ground. As you “hit” the ground, you realize that someone had thought that you were still playing. You just weren’t sure yet. You suddenly realize that you’re laying on a rather muscled chest, and you realize that you’ve been there for a hot minute. You roll off of their chest, and look. Steve.

“Did you just try to kill me? ‘Cause you’re doing a fantastic job of almost doing so. The blonde oaf just stands up, smiles, and hugs you.

“No, I just wanted to say hi to my best girl without an audience.” You sigh, and melt into him, relishing in just how good of a pillow he is. He releases you, and you look up at him, to see him smiling down at you, with those brilliant eyes of his. You smile back, and reach up to give him a quick peck on the cheek, but he turns at the last minute and you end up kissing him on the lips. It was short and sweet, which was just how you liked it.

“I love you babe.”

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve rogers #Marvel #MCU #Marvel Fanfiction #Fanfiction #fluff #teamcap4bucky #teamcap4bucky 2k celebration #captain america x reader

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madamslayyy · 6 years

Text

Log Cabin and a Brewing Fire Part III

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader

A/N: here we go, I’m sorry for hoarding this chapter for so long, I actually had it 95% finished before Spring Break, I just needed to add a couple of paragraphs and revise. But here it is now and I’ve already started in the next chapter. As always let me know what you guys think, Good, Bad, or otherwise, it really helps me as a writer. Also just another reminder this is a SLOW BURN story, so yeah the actions pretty liteeeee

PART ONE - PART TWO

~*~

You awoke to the sunlight pouring into your bedroom. You weren’t quite ready to get up yet so you shrunk back into your pillow, attempting to pull the covers over your head but they wouldn’t move. You tugged a little harder but they wouldn’t move an inch. You cracked an eye open only to be met with the figure of your late night guest sleeping peacefully beside you. He also was the reason you were currently unable to retreat into your blankets, his enormous figure taking up most of them.

You took a moment to examine him. He slept on his tummy, face buried into his pillow. You knew he had to have been in an incredibly deep sleep because his durag was sliding off his head a little. You reached over and adjusted it for him, hoping it wouldn’t wake him up. He didn’t even twitch.

You decided now was as good a time as any to get up since it looked like you weren’t gonna be going back to sleep any time soon. You pulled back the covers then suddenly remembered you’d slept in just your underwear and a T-shirt. You grabbed some real clothes from your drawer and made a b-line to the bathroom to get dressed.

Once you were presentable enough to not have bacon grease pop on your bare thigh, you headed downstairs to cook some breakfast.

You had no idea what time Nebraska fell asleep last night so you couldn’t really tell if you should wake him up for breakfast or let him sleep through. The snow was falling at a steady pace and starting to really build up outside.

You decided to cook a vegan omlette with spinach for breakfast. You went ahead and made two, just in case Nebraska woke up hungry. He could always just heat it up.

You’d barely got them out of the skillet and onto the plate when he came trudging down the stair.

“Good morning sleepyhead, you’re just in time for breakfast.” You said setting down both plates.

“Morning,” his voice was still heavy with sleep. He walk to the cupboard to get himself a glass of water, chugging the whole thing then filling up another.

“How’d you sleep last night?” You asked cutting at a piece of the omelette.

“Best sleep I’ve had in a while,” he said rubbing his eyes as he sat down.

“Well they say ambiance is everything. Wish I could’ve put on my ‘Rainstorms’ playlist, that’ll really knock your out.” You rambled taking a bite of your omelette. You glanced at your phone, realizing it was later than you thought. With the snow picking up outside you’d probably need a little extra time to get to work so you decided to go ahead and start getting dressed. You trashed the remainder of your breakfast and headed to put your plate in the sink.

“You’re finished already?” Nebraska said eyeing your now empty plate. Your pretty sure this was the first time he spoke to you without you prompting him. Progress.

“Yeah I gotta go get ready for work,” you said turning around to wash your plate.

“At the museum right?”

“Yeah actually! How’d you know?”

“Your uncle told me. He talks about you a lot.”

“No embarrassing stories I hope,” you chuckled. The corners of Nebraska’s mouth turned upwards slightly in an almost smile.

“The museums closed today isn’t it?”

“What makes you think that?”

“It was on the News.” Of course he would be the type of guy to watch the news. You quickly called your boss, her phone ringing three times before she finally picked up.

“Hello?” She said gruffly.

“Mrs. Tilly? It’s Y/N,”

“Ooohhhhh Y/N! Hello dear how are you?”

“Fantastic. Is work cancelled today?”

“Oh you don’t know? There’s supposed to be a major blizzard rolling through tonight. Don’t you watch the news?” If you could express your eyeroll through the phone, you would.

“No Mrs. Tilly, I didn’t catch the news this morning,” you deadpanned.

“Oh well the museum received notice per the City Regulations Department that all public facilities, the museums and schools alike, were to be closed for the rest of the week. This is a great opportunity for you to get some rest dear, you’ve been working so hard lately on those new exhibits, take some time for yourself for once ,” she said sweetly.

“Thank you Mrs. Tilly, stay safe,”

“You too dearie!” You hung up the phone and headed back to the kitchen.

“Apparently the museum is closed. All week in fact. And I had so much work to catch up on,” you sighed, looking in the fridge to survey the amount of groceries you had left. You hadn’t been grocery shopping in a while because of how busy you’d been at work but you definitely were going to have to make a trip if being snowed in for the next 3-4 days was a possibility.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to make a quick run for groceries and supplies, would you like to go with me?” You asked over your shoulder.

“Sure,”

~*~

An hour later you and Nebraska were piled into your car and driving into town. With where your house was, it was about a 20 minute drive just to reach the entrance of town. You turned the radio up, hoping to kill a little bit of the silence but a new rendition of Jingle Bells was all that sounded through the vehicle.

“Sheesh it’s still October,” Nebraska muttered sinking into his seat.

“Not a big fan of Christmas music?” You asked, eyes on the road.

“Nah, not really .” You changed the station. Mariah Carey singing “We Belong Together,” took its place.

~*~

“Okay so almond milk, oatmeal, tofu, r-“

“Can I ask you something?” Nebraska chimed in as you read off your grocery list while the two of you strolled down the aisles.

“Of course, ask away,”

“So being vegan was a personal choice or is it a health thing or-“

“I’m not vegan.”

“Not?”

“At all.”

“Ohhhh,” he looked down awkwardly and you smirked.

“What? You don’t like my cooking?” You teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“It’s just... um.... different.” He nodded, a small smirk playing at his own lips.

“Well if you don’t like it then tell me what you’d like me to cook then,” you chuckled continuing down the aisle.

“Maybe we cou-

“Y/N! Oh it’s been so long!” You and Nebraska turned around to see just who was calling for you.

It was none other than Tonya Manning, Principal of Dauntley High School, the only high school in town. She would routinely bring her students to the museum once a semester for a field trip, which she’d always set up and coordinate through you.

“Principal Manning, it’s great to see you. I’m assuming they cancelled school today?” You smiled as she came in to give you a hug.

“Oh no they cancelled all schools two days ago. Don’t you watch the news?” She said releasing you.

“Apparently not enough,”

“Oh hello! You must be Y/N’s man she’s been hiding! I’m Tonya Manning,” Tonya said holding out her hand. Nebraska politely took it.

“Nebraska Williams. And we’re.... not... like that.” He said obviously uncomfortable.

“He’s just a friend, Tonya. He’s taking a little vacation from the military right now so he’s staying with me.” You chimed in.

“Vacation from the military? How long you in town for?” Damn this woman was nosey.

“Couple months, don’t really have a solid time frame.” Nebraska spoke but you doubted Tonya heard a word of it. She was looking this man up and down as if he was a ribeye steak and she was a starving Cayote that hadn’t eaten in weeks. You knew he was good looking but apparently you weren’t the only one with working vision in this town .

“Well, we actually have a position open at the school. Our current JROTC coach is in his 80s and could use a strong, young militant like yourself to help get the kids who wanna serve in shape. The JROTC program is getting bigger and bigger each year and we really have to start expanding.” She smiled digging in her purse to pull out her business card before giving it to him.

“Give me a call sometime and we’ll set it up.” She bit her lip and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yes ma’am,” Nebraska smirked and you began to realize whatever chance Tonya thought she stood might actually be mutual. You couldn’t really blame Nebraska, she was pretty, tall, had curves in all the right places and had even extra backside she retained curtesy of her two kids she had by her exhusband. Any man would go for her the same way any woman would go for him.

“Well it was nice seeing you again Tonya, call me soon and we’ll get that museum field trip in motion,” you spoke up sweetly to interrupt the giving each other bedroom eyes.

“Of course,of course! Bye Y/N, see you soon, Nebraska,” she smiled coyly, causing him to give a little wave. You could puke all over the both of them.

“So.... lets go get milk,” you smiled sweetly heading down the aisle.

~*~

The two of you were back home a couple of hours later, putting up groceries, or rather you watching Nebraska bring in and put up groceries while you attempted to help put away the small stuff.

“Are you hungry? Want me to make dinner?” You asked putting away the last of the groceries.

“No! But um thank you, I’m just not hungry.” You might have actually believed him if his stomach didn’t grumble the second he finished talking.

“Do you really hate my cooking that much?” You asked in a small voice.

“No! It’s not that! I just- I mean- you-“ he was at a lost for words and you couldn’t help the small smile that broke out across your lips.

“It’s okay, we just ate anyway so we’ll hold off on dinner for now,” you chuckled, getting a glass of water.

“Yeah we uh... just ate,” Nebraska glanced at his watch with his eyebrows furrowed. You headed up to your room and decided to get a head start on getting ready for bed since you’d be sleeping in Nebraska’s room tonight.

You really were genuinely happy he got a good night’s rest in your room. You would just take the necessities with you tonight but if need be, you could always switch rooms with him completely, it wouldn’t be too much of a pain to rearrange the two rooms.

Once out the shower and dressed for bed you decided to get as much work done as you could on your laptop for the new exhibits at the museum. Time must have slipped away from you because before you knew it, there was a light knock on your door, followed by Nebraska entering. He was dressed a bit more modest tonight, opting for Sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“Too early?” He asked, closing the door behind him. You glanced at the clock on your screen and saw it was already 9:30 p.m.

“Not at all,” you smiled warmly. You saw a small smile grace his lips before he adverted his eyes, smile still playing at his mouth.

He hopped into bed in the exact same spot as the night before, damn near on the edge of the bed. Maybe he was trying to be respectful of your side but you didn’t really see the point since you wouldn’t be here anyways.

“You can come lie in the middle of you want, you don’t have to sleep on the edge,” you said shutting your laptop and getting up to set it on your desk.

“Oh okay,” Nebraska mumbled, inching closer to the middle. You continued over to your oil diffuser and set the scent on Lavender, your favorite fragrance to get you to sleep. You then connected your phone to the Bluetooth speaker in it and set your Quiet Thunderstorms playlist going.

“Too loud?” You asked, glancing over at him.

“It’s perfect,” he muttered in that deep voice and you felt your cheeks heat up. This entire situation could be taken out of context and be used in the most romantic daydream, but you had to snap yourself out of it. He was simply a guest of your Uncle. You had no right to look at him in such a way, he didn’t come here to be harassed like that.

“Well then in that case, Good Night and Sweet Dreams,” you bid your adieu and turned the lights out, leaving only the soft everescent glow of your fairy lights illuminating the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” Nebraska asked right as you were about to shut the door behind you.

“To your room?” You said turning around.

“Why are you going there?”

“Because we’re switching rooms so you’ll sleep better. You said last night was the best nights sleep you had in a while so if my room had anything to do with it, consider it all yours.” You smiled but he didn’t notice. You saw that something was clearly bothering him.

“I did say that. Okay, well uh, Good night then,” he said gruffly and you left but the whole thing was awkward. Did he not want you to sleep in his room? Where did he expect you to sleep? The couch? Not that you couldn’t but that’d get pretty old after a couple nights.

You settled yourself into Nebraska bed, still cold and perfectly made, feeling like it hadn’t been touched in 2 years instead of just 2 days. You couldn’t resist burying your head into the pillow, trying to catch the faint scent of his cologne but it wasn’t there. You were damn near exhausted earlier and now you found that sleep eluded you.

You been staring out the enormous window when you heard the door crack open.

“Y/N? You still up?” Nebraska whispered, well as much as his deep tenor would allow, while peaking his head through the door.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Can, um, can you come... back?”

“Back to my room? You changed your mind already? I thought the atmosphere helped you go to sleep.”

“It wasn’t the atmosphere that was soothing me to sleep...” Nebraska trailed off and suddenly you knew exactly what he meant.

~*~

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#trevante rhodes #trevante rhodes imagine #trevante rhodes x reader #trevante rhodes x you

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