#i guess he could have tailored his grey suit to fit him if he did get bigger .. Orrr smaller whatever but i dont want to entertain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

messyyythoughts · 3 years

Text

intel gathering, a bad batch meeting you preference

30.08.2021 - I had to rewrite this due to a bug, it's back up now and all finished! :) summary: an idea on how the bad batch met you (this will be one of many lol) during the Clone Wars, and subsequently recruited you, feedback much appreciated! warnings: light descriptions of sex work (dancing, flirting, striptease), men being men ig ._. nothing crazy, enjoy my loves!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. The Clone Wars. It hadn’t affected your little world very much at all really. You had the and routine that you’d had for years now. Wake up sometime in the afternoon, do your little daytime jobs, get ready for work later in the evening, arrive at work for the night and get down to business. You were a dancer, see, at a club in the less respectable part of Coruscant. The city-wide planet. You hadn’t been born here but you had to admit you loved it. It had an air of importance no matter who you were. Even the scummiest characters felt as if they played a part in the daily workings of Coruscant.

Even you played a part. A bigger one than someone may think at first.

You had a little secret, a hidden talent, if you will. You had a remarkable mind that allowed you to pick up on minuscule bits of information and piece it together to make a whole picture. All you needed was one look at someone and you could tell where they were born, how old they were, what they did for a living. You were like a master of people watching. Some may call it lying, or overthinking. The truth is you just knew how to be observant where others weren’t.

This skill of yours made for great fun when new prospective clients wandered into the club and you needed to figure out if they were any good. Were they going to pose a threat to you and the other dancers? Did they have enough disposable income to be paying the dancers after they’d done their work? You could garner all of this from a single look, a few seconds of eye contact. Sometimes the dancers made little competitions backstage in the dressing room on how quickly you could suss out the clientele for the night. You usually beat their estimations every time.

So, when five rather unusual clones strolled into the club one night, straight past the burly bouncers and into a VIP booth right in front of the main stage, the dancers came rushing to get you. At first, you didn’t entirely believe them, you had to be honest, the sound of five clones just waltzing in was a bit far fetched. The Clone Wars hadn’t touched your little bubble, why had it decided to pop it now? Curiouser and curiouser you became, eventually finishing your makeup for the night and getting into your outfit for the night. You were due on stage in a few minutes and needed a plan.

You sent one dancer to inform the DJ of your arrival and queue up your song of choice as another dancer helped you shimmy into a floor length flattering evening gown with elbow-length gloves to match. You were already dusted in body glitter to make you shine under the spotlights, all you needed was a smile and a wink and you were ready to go. You positioned yourself on stage as the other dancers prepared your entrance. A heavy velvet curtain was currently obscuring the crowd’s view of the main stage, allowing you to be perfectly revealed to them in spectacular fashion. Once the other dancers had given you the go ahead, the DJ began playing your song and the curtain fell away.

Once the crowd realised it was you, applause thundered across the club, men and women alike coming to watch your infamous show. The music was bumping across the club, drowning out any conversation and obscuring any that weren’t meant to be heard. There were movable steps at the front of the stage that you delicately descended, once you were clear of them, two dancers swooped in and removed the steps. Not that anyone saw it as they were all entirely transfixed on you. It was just you, the music and those five clones sat in that VIP booth that you had so swiftly avoided after coming down from the stage.

With practised elegance you walked across the floor, body in time with the music, sometimes lip-syncing the lyrics for a bit of fun. You chose tables at random and paid delicate amounts of attention to the people sitting there. One table held a group of younger men who clearly had the money to spend an entire evening with you, their suits were from a tailor in the more respectable parts of Coruscant, and they smelled of expensive cologne. You were familiar with the scents coming from them. You grew bored of them and decided to taunt a lone woman at a single table. The spotlight followed you diligently. The woman was excited at having your attention and flashed you a dazzling smile. Still, you needed to get closer to the five clones who had been following you across the floor with their eyes since you appeared.

As the song came to a close, you found your way across to them. You did one last twirl as you undid your evening gown, but in those few seconds where you faced the VIP booth, you had a closer look at the clones. The one on the very left seemed to stand out the most to you. If you saw him walking in the street you’d pin him as a strange one. His skin was a sickly pale colour, maybe he had recently recovered from an illness, he had no hair on his head. His eyebrows were brown, full and strong. His facial bone structure was very pronounced. His eyes were a light hazel, very beautiful to gaze at, you decided. He had little metal parts in his head, they glimmered in the spotlight, that’s how you’d noticed them.

‘Odd’, you thought, but then you caught sight of something beneath the table. A prosthetic arm. It made sense to you now, and as you made a millisecond of eye contact you realised that this clone was embarrassed by your attention. So, you moved it onto someone else. The next clone you laid eyes on was a timid looking creature. He had goggles over his eyes and an odd haircut, he was more awkward than uncomfortable. His hair was a soft brown colour, his eyebrows shared this colour but were less strong than the previous clone’s had been. They shared the same hazel eyes, however. He seemed completely uninterested in the entire situation and was tapping away quite contently on a datapad in his hands. Fair enough, not everyone was as sex-crazed as some could be, but he'd still chosen to accompany his group here... so maybe he was interested. His armour was also more white in comparison to the black and grey armour of his companions.

But, the clone in the middle? Oh, he was interested alright. 'Hungry for more' might describe the look in his (also) hazel eyes. Speaking of his eyes, you surmised that they probably scoured at people a lot even as they roved up and down your body, practically mesmerised by the dress. But his face told another story. A crosshair tattoo adorned one eye and a toothpick rolled between his teeth as he took you in. He had grey hair, which caught your attention. His eyebrows did not share the same colour, they were the same as his companions’. You guessed that if he could get up and leave his companions to get to know you, he would, but his own arrogance was stopping him.

Similar to this clone, the one next to him was showing a keen interest in you, his posture was entirely relaxed. One arm was slung over the back of the booth and his mouth smirked at you as you studied him. If you had to guess, you'd say he really didn't mind being here in the slightest, in fact, he was probably enjoying it the most. You'd bet credits he suggested going here tonight. His hair was a darker brown, it suited him, and his eyebrows were straighter, less harshly shaped. His eyes were hazel too, if not a bit more on the green side. Half of his face was covered in a black skull tattoo, and by the Maker did he look good with it. A red bandana kept his hair out of his face, clearly a well-loved accessory by this clone by the look of the fabric.

Finally, on the opposite end of the booth sat a rather physically impressive clone. He rivalled the bulkiest bouncer that worked at the club by far, and could barely fit in the booth, hence his position on the end. He had a scar on one side of his face that seemed to have resulted in his right eye being a different colour to his left. He shared the hazel eyes of his companions. His eyebrows were the unruliest by far but you wouldn’t have them any other way. It seemed like it suited him. The dumbfounded look in his eyes but open posture told you that he was happy to be here but unsure of what was supposed to happen. You were sure that underneath that armour he was just as muscly and able to snap the next guy that you looked at in half. He had no hair on his head, maybe due to that scar...

It had been mere seconds since you had approached the booth and you had your information, already mid-spin and undoing the dress for your grand finale on stage. With that, you winked at no clone in particular and covertly signalled the DJ to play another song so you could continue the ruse of being a dancer who was doing their job.

You picked your way back to the stage and made a show of getting up there in your tight evening gown and eventually received ‘help’ from two prepositioned dancers. They joined you in helping you ‘undress’ much to the amusement of the crowd. Finally, they left you and you undressed, finally giving the crowd what they had waited for. The other dancers watched on in awe from the wings as you captivated the club again with another performance of lip-syncing and acting. You did one last song in the newly revealed outfit that was daringly revealing but also very flattering and sensational before the curtain rose from its place on the floor and hid you from view. Whooping and whistling and clapping erupted from the club and you smiled devilishly at the awaiting dancers in the wings. “Well,” You began, walking over to them, “I think we’ve got some troublemakers on our hands.”

As you entered the dressing room the dancers that were available gathered around you to hear the information. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. "So they're clones, right?" One young dancer with recently cut hair asked. They were perched beside you on the vanity, listening intently. "They are, but they're different, they don't behave like other clones." You were getting ready to go home for the remainder of the night, the club getting less and less populated as the night went on. "Strange," Another dancer added, "they seemed to be acting like any other man to me." Agreement rose from the dressing-room and you chuckled. "That's why I am the intel gatherer, not you lot." Another wave of agreement went around the room and you all found yourselves laughing. Only you could garner so much information from a couple seconds of visual contact. As the night got later and the club closed, some dancers departed and others were still packing up. It had been only a few minutes since you stopped discussing the clones when you sensed someone lingering, and whistled to silence the dressing-room. A whistle from you meant utter silence and everything stopped. You caught movement from the hallway that made you silently slip off of the vanity, you grabbed your self-defence keychain that was on the table. Only in a robe and heels, still dusted with glitter, you entered the hallway and found the five clones waiting there. How the bouncers hadn't thrown them out yet, you weren't sure. Another whistle from you alerted the dancers that the situation had been resolved and you heard the chatter start up again. Your self-defence keychain still remained in your hand and you met eyes with the clone who had the red bandana and the skull tattoo over one half of his face. Just like you'd told the other dancers. "Can I help you?" You asked with a hint of warning in your voice. You'd had to fight off plenty of strange people walking home after work before, and you'd lived to tell the tale so far. "You're the woman who came over to our table earlier?" Bandana asked, his voice rough as gravel. "I am." You replied with arms crossed over your chest. "You were only there for a few seconds, but it proved enough to tell the entire dressing-room about us and our jobs. That's rather impressive." Goggles spoke, the datapad now nowhere to be seen. "We like to gossip." You replied with caution. They knew something, didn't they? "You're also an informer for the Jedi Council about matters to do with the war, aren't you?" Skull face said slowly, as if revealing a great secret, probably because he was. Your lips couldn't help but transform into a tight smile as the words were spoken. So, they knew about you, they were here tonight for a reason. An interesting development, to say the least. "What if I was?" You challenged, leaning against the wall. "We would benefit greatly from someone with your skillset, I've done the calculations and-" Goggles was cut off by the tall, lean and moody one. He'd had a toothpick in his mouth earlier. "Speak for yourself, Tech," He drawled, "we work just fine on our own." You suppressed an amused smile at the sniper's comment and let the others talk. "We're offering you a place with us to help the war effort on behalf of the Republic," The pale one offered, "so what do you think?" Your eyes scanned them all again and you found yourself truly torn between the decision before you. Leave the club and the family you'd found for the war which you really had no idea about the state of? It would mean you were more than just a dancer with a knack for entertaining. You'd be fighting and working for the Republic, actually doing something with your life other than being an object to a load of sad men. "Sleep on it, make arrangements or not, we leave here in three days, you can either come with us or stay here." Bandana declared before all five of them filed out of the club's back exit and said no more. You loosened the grip on your keychain and returned to an almost empty dressing-room. You searched underneath your vanity with a

hand and found a listening bug underneath, you stared at it for a moment and found yourself leaning towards the offer to join the clones. You had three days to decide, so you crushed the listening device under your heel and finished packing your things up. You had a lot of thinking to do. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. messyyythoughts © 2021 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

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lu-undy · 3 years

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Another Sniper/Spy fluffy “short”

Spy and Sniper are sent on a mission where Spy has to disguise himself as a woman. Sniper falls for him *even more* and when he catches Spy flirting with the bad guy, well, the Aussie takes it badly. But in the end, all is well ;) Follow this link!

"Hey, Miss Paulin'?"

"Hey Scout, d'you know where I can find Spy and Sniper?"

"Ya got a job for'em?"

"Yes, I do." Miss Pauling had barely arrived at the base that the young man was all over her, like a bee on a flower.

"I can do it. I'm sure I can do it on my own too, I'm pretty strong, see?" He flexed his arm and Miss Pauling rolled her eyes before looking away.

"Scout, I need those two to do the job, not you."

"I can do it with them, if that works better for you, eh?"

The young woman sighed and pushed living-room's door.

"Hey everyone."

"Howdy, Miss?"

"Mmh-hmm!"

Most of the team was there but as Miss Pauling scanned the room, she didn't find Spy or Sniper.

"Any idea where Sniper and Spy are?"

"You'll find Slim in his van I guess, and for Spy? I'd say give a knock on his door." The Texan answered from the sofa, a beer in his hand.

"Alright, thanks." The young woman spun on her heels and bumped on Scout. "Scout!"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"You wanna do something for me?"

"Sure!" He excitedly answered.

"Get Spy and Sniper in the meeting room in 2 minutes."

"I'm on it!"

And a couple of minutes later, both mercenaries were in the meeting room with Miss Pauling.

"Alright, guys, I have a job for you two. I know, it's quite unusual for both of you to team up with anyone but unless one of you can split himself into two, you'll need each other."

Spy and Sniper were sitting face to face on one end of the long table, the closest to the screen. The Frenchman lit a cigarette and raised his hand.

"Spy?" Miss Pauling was surprised that he should have a question so soon.

"Is this mission only to be heard by Sniper and my ears?" He asked.

"Yeah, why?" The young woman raised an eyebrow. Spy stood up and went to the meeting room's door that he opened abruptly. Scout was trying to look and listen through the keyhole. "Ugh, Scout, if you don't leave right now, I swear I'm never giving you any jobs anymore!"

"You never do anyway!"

Sniper pushed his chair back to stand up but Miss Pauling put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"I did! I asked you to go and get Sniper and Spy and you did it brilliantly, now, please let me have this meeting with them."

"Does that mean you… were impressed by how well I handled it?" Scout's eyes shone with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, it does, now please…?"

"Alright then, I won't be far though, just in case you need anythin' eh?"

Spy looked at Miss Pauling and she nodded, after that, the Frenchman pushed the door shut on the young man's face.

"Ooh, sorry about this, I know neither of you like to waste your time…" Pauling grabbed a remote and switched the big screen on. "Now, let's talk about the mission. The Admin's got you two tickets for a ball given by this guy. Apparently, he has a bar of pure unrefined Australium that the Admin wants. One of you will have to distract him while the other retrieves it." She pushed a button and the screen showed a mansion. "That's his house, where the ball will be. I'm told that the Australium is in his bedroom, upstairs, right there…" She pushed another button. "It's on that shelf. I talked to Engie and we'll have the CCTV system and the security rigged off so it's just a matter of picking it up."

"Do we know anything about this gentleman?" Spy asked.

"Yup," Pauling pushed a button and the next image appeared.

"Bloody hell, how many sheilas is that…?" Sniper straightened his back on the chair and started counting them. The picture showed the man surrounded by women of all colour and all tastes.

"Five." Spy answered. "Those ones are in a group of five, admirable women and very helpful in times of need." Sniper's eyebrows jumped and he looked at his colleague across the table. "So he enjoys the company of women?" Spy asked Pauling, unfazed.

"Yeah, so Spy, you'll have to go as one, keep him busy while Sniper goes upstairs and takes the prize. Any questions?”

Spy raised his hand.

“Yes, Spy?”

“When is this mission due?”

“The party is tonight. Here’s the address.” Pauling took a piece of paper out of her pocket and showed it to Spy. The Frenchman took a second to look at it then nodded, and Miss Pauling showed it to Sniper.

“Y’know the area?” Sniper asked his colleague and Spy nodded, blowing the smoke of his cigarette between his thin lips. “Alright then.”

Miss Pauling took the paper and burnt it. “There, you guys have the address. Now, the Admin insists on doing the job cleanly, no corpses. Besides, there’s no respawn there, so try to not get killed, ok?”

Both Sniper and Spy nodded.

“Right, if you don’t have more questions, I’ll be on my way.” Miss Pauling went to the door, both mercenaries on her heels. Spy opened the door for her and both Sniper and her passed through before he went through last and shut the door.

The evening came and Sniper had spent his entire afternoon on his own. After the dinner that he shared with his colleagues, he retreated to his van again and prepared himself. Well, a fancy ball, huh? Good thing he had kept a suit in his stuff. It had been his father’s so it was old, out of any kind of recent fashion and a bit on the short side for the tall Aussie, but who cared. He was just going to steal something and he would be back before midnight no doubt. Sniper trusted Spy to offer whatever distraction was needed for him to take the Australium stick easily.

When the Aussie finished putting on his black, now dark greying, suit, he quickly combed his hair and looked at his reflection on his van's window.

“Well, that’ll do.” He concluded and exited his van to go and get his colleague out.

“Ooh, looks like Snipe’s goin’ on a date, eh?” Scout said and whistled at the older man. Sniper growled and bared his teeth on the side. “Who’s the lucky one, eh? There ain’t any lady kangaroos over here, eh?”

“Bugger off, Scout.”

“Pfff….!” The Bostonian snickered as Sniper disappeared in the corridor.

There was a knock on the Frenchman's door.

“Go to your van, I shall join you.” The voice with the French accent answered from the other side of the door with the knife symbol.

Sniper rolled his eyes.

“Alright.” He answered, and left. A minute later, he was in his van and the door on the passenger’s seat squeaked open. “Are you read-oh, wow…”

“I am indeed ready, now let us not waste time.” Spy answered matter-of-factly.

Sniper’s eyes lingered on his now very lady-like colleague. He couldn’t see much but the long hair and the shine on Spy’s lips was a change and a half.

“Jesus, that’s one hell of a disguise… You really look like a sheila…!” He started the engine and off they went.

“Thank you, I take it as a compliment on my make-up and disguise skills.”

“Yeah... How did you manage that…? I mean, I guess the long hair’s a wig, right?” Sniper cast a glance at his colleague. “No... Is it really your hair?”

“Non, you Bushman, of course not. It would never fit under my mask. This is indeed a wig.”

“And you put on make-up?”

“Oui.”

“You know how to do that?”

“Oui.”

“Wow… ‘M not gonna ask how or why.” Sniper said more to himself but of course Spy heard him.

“It is a skill, like shooting, you get it through learning.”

“And trainin’.” Sniper added. “You did that much?”

“Oui, not usually to make myself more feminine. Make-up can be used to hide your distinctive features, or create some that you do not originally possess.”

“Makes sense for a spook I guess.”

Spy raised a curious eyebrow to his colleague but of course Sniper was way too focused on the road to notice it. The Frenchman was surprised that his colleague did not mock him for his womanly disguise but instead chose to compliment him on his efforts. Hm, surprising coming from Sniper. Although anything that came from Sniper was a surprise. The man lived like a hermit in his van, he was almost as secretive as the Frenchman himself. Looking at him better, Spy noticed that Sniper had put on a suit. Well, something that vaguely resembled one. Even through the darkness of the night, the Frenchman could tell that this was no custom-tailored three-piece suit.

“And you have put on a suit?”

“Well, it’s an old thing, but yeah, I tried.”

“If you wanted something a bit more modern, I could have lent you something.”

“What? Seriously? You’d lend me one of your super expensive ones?”

“Well,” Spy answered. “I would have given it to you, no doubt you would have deformed the silk and cotton. But still.”

“You’re smaller than me though, so I don’t think anything would have been my size.”

“Hm, that is correct. Such a shame we had so little time to prepare or we could have gone to find you something a bit more appropriate.” Spy said.

“We?”

“Well I certainly would not trust you to find something adequate on your own, no offense.”

Sniper smiled.

“None taken, I think you’re actually right…”

They exchanged a glance and a smile.

“Still, it’s weird to hear you with your usual voice but see you with long hair, I mean… I can hardly see anythin’, it’s dark, but your silhouette’s like a sheila’s.” Sniper’s eyes went down to Spy’s chest and nodded to himself. The Frenchman definitely looked like a woman.

“And you have seen the gloss of the lipstick and the longer eyelashes because of the mascara. You have keen eyes.”

“Guess so.” The Aussie took the compliment with a smile.

“No doubt about it.”

“Alright, Spook, we’re in the city now so you’ll have to guide me. I remember the address but no clue where that bloke’s palace is.”

“Fair enough. Go straight until the natural history museum…” Spy started helping out his partner in crime. After a few turns and a few more minutes, both could see the palace.

“That bloke’ house is as big as my parents’ entire farm.” The Aussie queued after the line of cars to enter the mansion’s parking lot.

“I take your word for it.” Spy answered.

“I mean, seriously, why d’you need a house that big? Must cost ya a fortune to take care of… Plus you’re eatin’ out space for other people or animals, makes no sense.”

“Animals?” Spy asked.

“Yeah, imagine if he had a normal house, the rest could be a forest or something, you could have a bit of life there instead of marble and whatnot.”

Spy smiled. That was such a typical thought of Sniper, thinking of the wildlife almost before he thought of himself.

“The queue’s not movin’ that much…” Sniper said, drumming the steering wheel with his index and middle finger.

“Indeed it is not. Cigarette?” Spy took his cigarette case out of his purse and flicked it open between Sniper and him.

“Oh, uh, why not? Thanks, Spook.” The Aussie helped himself to one and Spy lit both of their cigarettes.

“Sniper?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I adjust your tie knot. It is not straight.”

“Oh? Uh, ok, thanks, mate.”

“No problem, it is inconveniencing me more than you, no doubt.”

“Well, I’m not seein’ it so yeah, I guess you're right.” Sniper stopped the van’s engine and turned towards Spy.

“Is there any light in your van?”

“Oh, sure, here.” The Aussie flicked a switch and his eyes snapped wide.

Spy raised gloved hands to his collar. But it wasn’t his usual dark, short pair, nah, those went up to his elbows, they shone shyly, in white satin. The Aussie realised that Spy was wearing a dark blue, bustier dress with thin sequins, revealing a shy, yet womanly chest.

“You may breathe normally, Sniper. And I am only adjusting your knot, no need to be so anxious. I can hear your heart beat through your breath.” Spy chuckled, not understanding why his colleague was so nervous, but he soon finished and raised his eyes to meet Sniper's. And that's when he understood. Sniper’s face was flushed as red as a brick. “Sniper?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, thanks, ahem…” Sniper looked away and gulped down hard. That split second that Spy had looked into his eyes had been so intense. The Frenchman sure did know how to put on makeup! As Sniper shut his eyes to erase that image, those eyes so light, they look like angel’s, that eyeliner highlighting their mellow, curvy shape, the mascara making his eyelashes look like butterfly wings, and his thin, red lips… To no avail. The image of that face was burnt into the Aussie’s memory.

“Are you alright?” Spy asked. “Is my cigarette too strong?”

“N-nah, nah, it’s fine, actually, they’re not strong at all.” Sniper started the engine again and followed the caterpillar motion of the line of cars.

“Indeed, if it were my cigarettes, I would have been surprised.” Spy answered. “I know that I smoke like a fireman as we say in French, so I keep to light, menthol ones. I do remember you smoke occasionally too, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sometimes. But mine are cheap and taste like crap next to yours.”

Spy chuckled and Sniper followed him.

“I understand my appearance surprised you.” Spy said, blowing the smoke of his cigarette in a little cloud.

“Yeah, I mean, you really look like a sheila.”

“I have to.” Spy answered. “By the way, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For appreciating my efforts. I imagine that had I gone to complete this mission with any other one of our colleagues, my feminine disguise would have been almost blackmail material for them.”

“You mean they’d make fun of you for it?”

“Oui, I would imagine so.”

“Well, yeah, guess that’s true.”

“But you haven’t. Instead, you complimented my hard work. I appreciate it.”

“Hah, well, you’re welcome, Spook. And thanks for the tie. I never manage to get them right on my own.”

“An easy skill to learn, you just need more training.”

They eventually entered the property and found a parking spot.

“From now on, you do not know me and I do not know you.” Spy said when Sniper stopped the engine. The Aussie nodded. "You do have your earpiece on, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Good. Then we shall either communicate through that, or as we usually do."

Sniper nodded again. Over the months working together, Sniper and Spy had developed a form of wordless communication. It was useful ok the battlefield, when one distracted the enemy and the other took his chance to take them down.

"Anythin' I should or shouldn't do?" Sniper asked. "'M not exactly used to sneaking around and all."

Spy got flattered that Sniper should ask him for advice.

"Well, do not overdo it. The best way for you to go through people is to mingle with them. Those people are here to party? Well, you shall partake too, but reasonably so. Needless to say that a drunk partner in crime is a useless one."

"Yeah, o'course. How will I know when to go upstairs?"

"Keep an eye on me, you will know when you can go."

"Alright, ok." Sniper tried to store all these words preciously in his memory.

"Could you please switch the light back on for an instant?"

"Oh, uh, sure, here."

"Ah, I knew it. This isn't my usual brand of lipstick and part of it went away with the cigarette… I should have had some imported from France, I knew I was running low…" Spy looked through his white purse and took a tube of lipstick. The Aussie couldn't help but stare at his colleague fixing his make-up. "There…" Spy brushed his lips against each other to spread the red lipstick evenly. "This should do. How do I look?"

Sniper was speechless.

"Uh, I-I mean, great, I mean, for a sheila who isn't one, it's… I'd never guess you're a bloke, unless I hear your voice."

"And what about now?"

Sniper's jaw dropped, his colleague now sounded like a woman.

"Alright… You're a sheila alright…"

"Perfect, I shall exit the van first, you wait a few minutes and make your way inside."

"O-ok, yeah."

"See you, Sniper."

"Yeah, see ya…"

Sniper did as he was told and waited in his van, in the silence of his own mind. How the hell could Spy do that…? He looked like a sheila, sounded like one…! The bloke even had at least the upper body of a woman!

"Bloody hell…" Sniper leaned his head back and dived in his own thoughts. He closed his eyes and saw it all again, the feline eyes, the thin lips, the long mane of wavy black hair… "Gosh."

Spy looked attractive as a woman… too.

Sniper took a deep breath and sighed.

This was better than Christmas. He got to spend an evening with the ladykiller dressed and made-up like one himself. Even as a man, Spy was far from repulsive, Sniper thought even if his face was mostly hidden by his mask. His silhouette was exquisite, a bit shorter than Sniper, his shoulders slightly less broad, long, thin legs and he couldn't possibly dress more elegantly. The man was a candy bar for the eyes mounted on two skinny legs, and Sniper had nothing against skinny legs, far from it.

He remembered that one day he had seen Spy without his jacket, just with his white shirt, his tie and his vest. The Aussie had seen him from behind and only then did he realise that the Frenchman's trousers moulded his waist and thighs deliciously. Well, especially his waist from behind…

Sniper blinked and shook his head as if to land back on Earth.

"Right, anyway, time to go."

He exited his van and walked towards the house's entrance. Two massive bodyguards were standing there. He passed them without an issue and climbed the white stairs to the house itself.

Gosh, that's a lot of people…

Immediately, Sniper found himself swimming amongst the dresses and the suits, some waiters were coming and going with trays of thin, fancy glasses on them. One of them stopped in front of Sniper.

"Ah, thanks." He took one and walking through people to find Spy, Sniper kept close to the walls, melting with the wallpaper itself.

C'mon, Spook, where are you…?

The Aussie's keen eyes darted left and right, scanning the crowd.

Or I could find the bloke we're gettin' the Australium from, I'm sure Spy's not far from him.

Sniper looked left and right, crossing different rooms, some wider than others. Finally, he made it to the most spacious one. Along one of the walls were tables filled with food and drinks and opposite that, a jazz band was playing. The Aussie recognised the tune. He leaned back against the wall and sipped on his champagne while his eyes looked at each and every face. Without realising it, his foot was drumming the rhythm of the tune.

Ugh, there were so many people and they were dancing, swarming the place like bees around honey…

"You like this song? Maybe you'd like to dance?"

Sniper's eyes darted down to whoever the woman was who was talking to him. He gasped when he recognised him.

"I-I can't really dance, I mean…"

"Come on, it'll be fun and easy, follow me…"

Of course it had to be Spy. Ah, it had been too good to be true! The Frenchman had been too nice with Sniper and the Aussie had started to wonder if the mischief in his colleague was just something he put on with his colleagues and decided to turn off with him…! But no! Of course he had to play games like these…!

Spy had taken the Aussie's hand with his white gloved one and he pulled him to the dancefloor. The song in the background suddenly sprang to Sniper’s ears. The Frenchman put his colleagues’ hands on him, one on his hip and the other against his palm. Spy started moving left and right, gently rocking the both of them. Sniper looked down and his eyes shot back up when he saw Spy’s chest. Even though he knew it was all an illusion, make-up and some hard work, his parents had nonetheless not raised him to look down womens’ cleavages…

“Mh, not bad.” Spy said with his female voice. “You lead now.” He stopped moving and Sniper, still looking up at the ceiling as if it would burn his eyes to look at his dance partner, started leading. Well, leading was a big word, he was moving, rocking left and right. “Just follow the rhythm…”

Sniper’s heart threatened to burst out of his ribcage. Spy was leaning his head against his chest.The Aussie gulped down hard and looked down. The fact that Spy wasn’t looking at him eased him somehow, he relaxed and moved in rhythm now. His hips swung with the double-bass, and soon, without realising it, his hand slid from Spy’s hip to his back. The Frenchman smiled, his eyes closed against his colleagues’ suit, and he pushed his hands to splay them both on his broad chest.

“What’re you makin’ me do, Spook…?” Sniper had managed to forget the people around him to only focus on the warmth of Spy’s body against his. He spoke with his eyes closed too.

“You took your time to join me here.” Spy answered.

“Sorry… I just… Bah, whatever.”

“It is fine, as long as you are here now.”

Spy’s feminine voice just wrapped Sniper warmly in a fashion that only rivaled with his normal, male voice.

“S-Spook, we should be gettin’ to work…”

“Oh but we are.” Spy smirked before he raised his fair eyes to Sniper. “You see the man in the black and white suit over my shoulder? He is wearing a red satin scarf on his shoulders.”

Sniper looked in the direction indicated by Spy.

“Yeah, I see’im.”

“That is the man that I shall entertain. I tried getting his attention but I am afraid that the competition tonight is hard for me to match.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Sniper asked.

“Those women following him, he has eyes only for them. He is practically blind to the rest of the world. Arh, Miss Pauling should have told us earlier, I would have had time to dye my hair black….”

“What’re you talkin’ about? Your hair is already black.”

“It has some grey, too much of it. I couldn’t dye it so I had to use a wig with matching greying temples and front. It would have been odd to have long black hair but some grey roots.”

“I don't think your grey hair’s a problem. I mean, it’s beautiful as it is, I mean the wig, heh…”

Spy raised his eyes to Sniper again. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome… But uh, so what’s the plan, now?”

“Now, I need to attract his attention in a different way. If my looks in this attire are not enough, then I shall try something else. You, keep an eye on me and wait for my signal, d’accord?”

[Understood?]

“Alright.”

Spy freed himself from Sniper’s dancing embrace.

“Spook?”

“Oui?”

“You… You be careful, ok?”

Spy gave him a smile, one that he had never seen before, it was a lopsided grin, his eyes were smiling too, his eyelashes bowing gently.

“You too.”

And just like that, Spy was out of Sniper’s arms. The Aussie’s eyes lingered on the Frenchman and that’s when he realised that the dress he was wearing had two long slits left and right, revealing his legs up to a half of his thighs. Spy was also somehow managing to walk with high heeled stilettos, black ones, that laced up his calves. The laces then dissolved into black stockings that hugged his leg in the most enticing way, up to his thigh.

“God, he’s somethin’...” Sniper said out loud, even though no one heard him. “Hold on, what is he - what the…?”

Spy walked to the jazz band and Sniper saw him talk to the leader. After a few seconds of Spy talking, the leader of the band nodded and the music died down. Sniper went to the table and grabbed a glass before he leaned on the wall next to him.

The music started again and Sniper frowned. Why was Spy staying there? Why was he taking the microphone? Why was - oh…

{To the reader, the song is “Dream a little dream of me” by Pink Martini and the Von Trapps}

“Stars shining bright above you,

Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you",

Birds singing in the sycamore tree,

Dream a little dream of me.”

Sniper’s jaw dropped. The song was so delicate, the dancing area filled quickly, and as Sniper cast a glance over to the wealthy man surrounded by his harem of lightly dressed ladies, he noticed that the performance had caught his eye. Good old Spook, has more tricks up his sleeve than we imagine, Sniper thought. His eyes went back to Spy. He sang with his shining, satin, white gloved hands left and right from the microphone stand, his hips swinging deliciously, revealing in rhythm his left and right thigh. A spotlight switched on, right on him, and Spy pushed a lock of his fake long hair behind his ear. Sniper could definitely not agree with Spy, his greying hair at the front and on his temples was absolutely an asset, not a setback at all. It shone in silver under the spotlight.

“Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me,

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me,

While I'm alone and blue as can be,

Dream a little dream of me...!”

A man shoved Sniper as he passed by and the Aussie was about to say something when he realised that it was the man in question, the man they were about to steal the Australium from. His face then radiated in triumph. Go, Spook, go! You got him! That's it! And you were doubtin’ yerself, look at you…! Who in their right mind wouldn’t take a second to look at you now? I mean now and anytime! You’re just… Sniper bit his lip. Thinking those words was too much. He shall not even think them but keep them in their raw form, as a thought, not mould them into letters and sounds, no, he shall keep that warmth inside him and leave it as a flame.

“Stars fading but I linger on, dear,

Still craving your kiss,

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear,

Just saying this...”

Gosh, Sniper wished he could stay and listen to the whole song, listen to more of them even. How could Spy sing so well and with a feminine voice at that…? How…?

“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you,

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you,

But in your dreams whatever they be,

Dream a little dream of me…!”

The plump man and his flock of sheilas was at the very front now watching the show. Sniper saw him and his eyes quickly darted back up to Spy, he did not want to miss anything of his performance. It was certainly the first and the last time that he would hear the Frenchman perform this way.

But the song ended and the guests applauded loudly.

“Thank you.” Spy said in the microphone. “I would like to dedicate this song to the one hunter brave enough to climb the stairs of my stone hard heart and steal the golden wand of love that he put there.”

Sniper took it as his cue. Without hesitating, he spun on his heels and went to find the stairs. On his way, he heard Spy starting a new song.

So I have about three minutes before the song ends… He thought to himself and climbed the stairs. Once he reached the first floor, he walked through the corridors until he found the right room.

He gasped. A guard was coming! Quickly, Sniper stuck his back to the wall at thecorner. Arh! He needed something to distract the guy away from his path, but he had nothing on him but that short suit and - oh!

The Aussie got an idea. He took one of his sleeves and tore a button of his cuffs off before throwing it on the hardwood floor.

"Huh?" The guard heard the noise and went to inspect whatever caused it. Meanwhile, Sniper snuck past and slipped in the right room.

Alright, let's do this…

He closed the door after him and looked around. The room might have been part of a museum. It contained all kinds of artefacts, statues, coins, paintings, knick-knacks of all sizes and shapes.

Ah, there ye are…

A stick of Australium not longer than a pen but quite thicker was under one of the glass panes. Sniper looked left and right before he got his fingers closer to the glass.

Please, Engie, tell me you disabled the alarms…!

The Aussie put his fingertips on the glass and taking a deep breath, he pulled the glass upwards very slowly, the sweat breaking on his brow. No alarm rang, there wasn’t a sound.

Hah, piece o’piss!

Sniper put the object in his inside pocket and made his way out of the room. He luckily found his button back and picked it up from the floor to put it in his pocket. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he melted in the people, looking for Spy to tell him he had what they needed; that they could leave that posh party.

“Oh…”

Sniper stopped sharp. From where he was, people walking around him, swarming like ants, he stood tall, his head above the average crowd and what he saw had an unexpected effect on him. Spy had indeed caught the guy’s attention, no doubt about that. Sniper found the Frenchman off the stage, a bit further were laid a few sofas for the VIPs no doubt. Spy was on one of them, well, not directly on the sofa, the Frenchman was on the guy’s lap, a glass of champagne in his hand, one leg elegantly crossed over the other, his stockings showing entirely on one leg. The Aussie was fuming. He wanted to go there, cover Spy’s leg with his jacket, take the Frenchman’s hand and drag him out. He frowned, furious.

At some point, Spy caught sight of him. He murmured something in the guy’s ear and Sniper couldn’t bear it anymore, he spun on his heels and made his way to his van. Well, Spy would understand that those parties weren’t really Sniper’s natural habitat and that he preferred to wait in his van.

So Sniper left the mansion, hurtled down the white marble stairs, retreated to his van, and slammed the door shut as he slumped down on his seat. He sighed and taking the steering wheel in his hands, he started drumming his fingers impatiently.

Impatiently?

The fact that the patient hunter lost his ability to behave professionally and wait made him blind with rage, boiling on his seat. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back to take a nap. He tried, but the frown on his brow kept him up, he could not possibly relax.

“Sniper?”

He opened his eyes. Spy had opened the passenger’s door.

“Do you have it?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect! Let us be on our way then.”

“Yeah.” Sniper waited for Spy to fasten his seatbelt before he started the engine, and off both of them went back to the base.

The drive back was mostly silent, if one ignored the rumble of the van’s engine.

“Sniper?”

“What?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Spy frowned.

“What is it?” He asked.

"What's what?”

“This attitude of yours.” Spy answered. “I left you after the dance and come to find you another different man altogether, and not in a good way, what happened? Did you get caught?”

“No.”

“Did you have to kill someone?”

“No.”

“Did you get hurt?”

“Spook, please.”

“What?” Spy asked.

“Get off my back.” Sniper coldly answered.

“I will not.” Spy replied, determined.

“For Christ’s sake…”

“What happened for you to turn so… furious?” Spy asked. “I demand to know!”

“Pfff, you demand nothin’, mate.”

“Yes, I do.” Spy answered and removed his wig. “I thought you were in a good mood up until I left you, what happened then?”

Sniper sighed.

“Was it something I did or said?” Spy asked.

“Leave me alone.”

“Non.” Spy started removing the padding on his chest and he sat back on his seat.

The rest of the drive back to the base was utterly silent up until Sniper parked the van in front of the base. He waited for Spy to get out but the Frenchman remained marble-like.

“We’re here, Spook, you can get off.” Sniper undid his seatbelt and hopped off. He went to the back of his van to get a change, but as he climbed up at the back, he noticed that Spy hadn’t moved, as the van hadn’t shaken on its tired suspensions. So the Aussie went back to his driver's seat and opened the door. As he did so, the lights came on inside the van. “Hey, you heard me? We’re back at the base.” Sniper wasn’t even looking at Spy.

“I know.”

“Well then get out, go to your room and do whatever your spooky arse does in the evenin’...!” Sniper said, looking at the base.

“Non.” Spy answered. “Not before I know what is driving you to speak to me in this manner. But If you do speak to me so, then surely I am responsible for your foul mood. So I demand you tell me what I did wrong.”

“Arh, for fuck’s sake, Spy, you did nothin’ wrong! Now just go, will ya? I’ve got stuff to do!”

“Oh, that you have, Sniper.” Spy finally uncrossed his arms and turned to look Sniper in the eye, the Aussie raised his head and with the lights of the van on, he noticed that Spy had removed the make-up somehow and the wig had gone too. He was… He was Spy again... minus the mask! “And the first thing you will do is explain to me what I did for you to become aggressive!”

A light switched on in the base and it lit a window brightly. Sniper looked at Spy who was still in his dress and himself, still in his suit.

“We can’t stay here.” Sniper said and hopped off, followed by Spy this time. Sniper opened the back door and hopped in, he turned and saw Spy extending a hand up to get some help. Sniper raised a curious eyebrow.

“Some of us are wearing high heels and a dress, Sniper.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Sniper took Spy’s satin, gloved hand and pulled him in, as he did so, Spy climbed the high step as best as he could but his balance was fragile, so Sniper pulled him by the waist before shutting the door after both of them.

“Now, pray explain everything to me.” Spy said.

“There’s nothin’ to explain, I’m just… I’m just tired, is all.”

“Liar, and a very poor one at that.” Spy switched the light on inside the van and went to a jar containing some candy. He helped himself to one, which pushed Sniper deeper down in his anger.

“Alright, it’s you! I mean, me!”

“What did you or I do?”

Sniper sighed and Spy knew he had won.

“It’s just… It’s my fault, I got carried away…” Sniper sat on the bench and lowered his head, holding it in his hands.

“Carried away?” Spy asked, taking a seat next to him. “What do you mean?”

“The… The whole thing… You as a sheila, the party, the dance, your singin’... I put funny ideas in my head, is all.” Sniper admitted and immediately regretted it. It was Spy he was talking to, the man who used blackmail as butter to spread on his morning toasts…! “Yeah, alright, you can go tell the others or laugh at me, or whatever it is you wanna do with it.”

“Sniper…” Spy put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Do you mean that… you thought there was more to my performance than mere acting?”

Sniper silently nodded, still not looking his colleague in the eye, his head lowered.

“I enjoyed this evening too, you know.” Spy said. “And you surprised me with your dancing skills.”

“Spy, spare me your mockin’ and go straight to the point. You’re gonna ask me to pay you to not tell the others or somethin’? Well I don’t give a rat’s arse, you can tell’em, you can tell what happened and even more than what happened, I don’t care. I just…”

“I… I don’t follow you, Sniper.”

Sniper shook his head.

“I surprised you with my dancin’? Yeah, well I told you I couldn’t dance but you insisted. That’s what you get.”

“Sniper, I did not mean it that way, on the contrary!”

“What?” Sniper’s head jerked back up and he looked at his friend with wide surprised eyes.

“I… You were hesitant at first but when you finally let go, it was… divine.”

Sniper raised an eyebrow, he expected to see irony in Spy’s eyes, but either he was playing too well or there was really none…

“I didn’t really dance, I just, I just moved a bit, that's all.”

“Yet you held me close and…” Spy chuckled, hearing himself. “Pardon my sentimentality, it must come as a surprise to you.”

“That, or you’re really actin’ a part.” Sniper answered.

“I am not.” Spy shook his head. “Would I be sitting here with you, in a dress and face naked, to tell you lies?”

Sniper sighed.

“I don’t know.” He answered.

“But all that does not answer my question, Sniper. Why were you so tense, angry even?” Spy gently brushed his hand on his friend’s arm and Sniper turned to look him in the eye before he realised that Spy’s eyes were a lot to take in, and he averted his gaze instead.

“Well, I told you a bit, I might as well come clean with ya.” Sniper took a deep breath. “Look, I saw you today and uh… Well, I mean, usually… Uh… Arh, I’m sorry, I’m not the best when it comes to words.”

“Then, stand up.” Spy stood up and offered his still gloved hand.

“What?”

“Stand up, come on.”

Sniper obeyed, although he had no idea where Spy was going.

“Alright, now what?”

“Now close your eyes. Can you hear it?”

“Hear what?” Sniper asked with his eyes closed.

“The music, the same mellow tunes that we heard and danced to, a few hours ago. How were we, again? Ah, yes, just like so.” Spy put Sniper’s hands back where they were. “Are your eyes still closed?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you see?”

“We’re back there and uh… I’m wonderin’ what you’re makin’ me do.”

Spy smiled when he felt Sniper’s hand slide from his hip to his back, exactly as it had done earlier. The Frenchman leaned his head on Sniper’s chest.

“Gosh…”

“Now, tell me what bothers you.” Spy’s voice was velvet like.

“I just… I held you there and you, you looked amazin’, Spook, you were… beautiful. Heh, as a bloke you’re not too bad either, but I don’t know, seein’ you like that, it was just… Gosh…” Sniper was talking almost to himself, out loud, forgetting that Spy was against him, even though he felt the warmth of his body, the comfort of his sweet embrace. He was rocking him left and right, as he had when they danced.

“What happened that made you so angry?” Spy gently asked.

“Seein’ you on that bloke’s lap.” Sniper admitted, his eyes closed. "I just… I don't know. I felt like… I saw you there, drinkin' and-and your dress…"

"What about it?"

"It…" Sniper frowned. "It was wide open and… You might as well've been naked, it was wrong, it was so wrong, the way he… He groped you and touched you… I felt like…"

"What did you want to do?" Spy whispered, and he felt Sniper tighten his embrace around him.

"Wanted to cover your legs with my jacket… Didn't want him or anyone else to see you like that." Sniper had now stopped dancing, he was only holding Spy dearly against himself. "I'm sorry, it's… patronisin' and pathetic, I saw you like a defenseless sheila even though I know you'd never let anyone play with you."

"It is not patronising, I appreciate the thought. Besides," Spy slid his hands on Sniper's chest and raised his head. "I thought I was clear."

"About what?"

"Do you remember what I said at the end of the song?"

"Somethin' about a hunter climbin' stairs and getting some gold, yeah, that was your signal, wasn't it?" Sniper was looking down at Spy.

"Oh oui, it was a signal, it was a lot of signals. Do you remember my exact words?"

"Nah, not exactly."

"I would like to dedicate this song to the one hunter brave enough to climb the stairs of my stone hard heart and steal the golden wand of love that he put there.”

"Yeah, poetic, eh?"

"It was a declaration, Sniper." Spy's tone of voice was serious.

"A declaration of what?"

"Of love." Spy answered. "I sang that song, Dream a little dream of me, as a declaration of my love for you."

Spy paused for a second, to let Sniper take the measure of what he had just said. He saw the shock in his wide open eyes and his cut breath. The Frenchman leaned against Sniper again.

"I enjoyed dancing with you so much that for a second I dreamt that we weren't there for business, that we could take our time, that I could have a dance with you. While I was waiting for you, the hesitation of the choice gnawed me on the inside: should I go and dance with him? Should I not? Well, although the answer was 'I should not or we could get caught together', my heart decided to ask you to dance anyway." Spy basked in the warmth of Sniper's body against him. "I wished that we could make that music last forever, I wished that I could prolong that song and that dance until the end of time."

"W-what…?" Sniper's voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

"But listening to what you felt now," Spy went on. "I have to ask you." He raised his head to Sniper. "Were you feeling… jealousy in your heart?"

Sniper closed his eyes and nodded.

"It's stupid but… I felt like, because of that small dance with me, I felt like we were, y'know, something. And when I saw that guy touchin' you and treatin' you like one the other sheilas, I lost it. Because you're not a sheila, and even if you were, you wouldn't be one of those. You're different."

"You know, in my long career and even longer life, it is not the first time that I have to disguise myself as a female. However, it is the first time that I felt natural doing so, all because of you, Sniper."

"What d'you mean?" Sniper looked down at Spy.

"You looked at me as if you were looking at a woman, you did not see a shred of masculinity in me and your eyes devoured me, not the Spy me, the woman, me. The jealousy you felt, was all because I looked like a woman." Spy took a step back from Sniper. The loss of warmth between them made them realise that the van was quite cold in fact. "Thank you for helping in that wordless way, my performance was enhanced by your faith in my skills." Spy removed the long, white gloves. "I… I shall not bother you any longer, it is quite late already."

As Sniper had been mostly silent all along, not once contradicting Spy, the Frenchman thought that the Aussie had only been attracted by the disguise, not the person under it. He sighed and walked out of the van, leaving Sniper alone.

The Aussie 's knees gave up and he sat on the bench.

What? He thought. He sang… To me? What did the song say again? Uhm… C'mon, it's a classic, I know it…

Sniper closed his eyes and pressed his brains. The lyircs came back to him.

“Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me,

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me,

While I'm alone and blue as can be,

Dream a little dream of me…"

Gosh. Sniper looked through the window. The lights were out in the base, at least the side of the building that he could see.

"I need to talk to him. He thinks I just felt jealous of the sheila he played, fuck!"

Sniper leapt out of his van and ran to the base, he entered and ran again through the corridor, he took a flight of stairs down, hurtling down, and stopped in front of the door with the knife symbol. He gave a knock. No answer. He knocked again and waited, looking at the keyhole and the whole door, wondering how he could enter even if Spy didn't let him in.

"Whoever is bothering me at this hour of the night, prepare your spine, my blades will kiss you goodnight!" A furious voice with a French accent roared from behind the door. Spy opened the door, in his pyjamas with a blade in his hand and a balaclava on his face. He stopped sharp and sighed, lowering his weapon. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk."

"I said all I had to." Spy answered and didn’t move from his door. "There is nothing for me to add."

“Spy, please…?”

The Frenchman sighed before he yielded and moved from the doorway, letting Sniper in. He shut the door after him and removed his balaclava and gloves, before he put his blade away.

“Can I…?” Sniper looked at the sofa.

“Pray do.” Spy nodded and took a seat on the sofa too.

“You were wrong.” Sniper said without introduction and Spy scoffed.

“About what, if I may ask?”

“Pretty much everythin’.” Sniper answered.

“Ah, well, in that case, please enlighten me at this advanced hour of the night where my heart and mind have suffered long and through, please add to my misery.”

Sniper looked at Spy in a way that meant that he had not come to him for an exchange of witty remarks.

“I didn’t just feel jealous cause you looked like a sheila and I somehow forgot you were a bloke. ‘M not stupid.” Sniper said. “I felt jealous anyway. I just didn’t like the way the guy touched you, regardless of what you look like.”

“Ah, charming and very gallant.” Spy’s sarcasm was a way to let his frustration go but it contaminated Sniper.

“Listen,” He answered and Spy could hear the annoyance in his voice. “I got jealous regardless, I got jealous because the guy had his dirty hands all over you, Spook, you.” Sniper pointed his finger at his colleague. “I didn’t care that you looked like a sheila, I didn’t care and I don’t care what you look like at all, cause before this evenin’ I had no idea what you looked like without the mask.”

Spy’s eyebrows jumped. He hadn’t thought of that.

“So… It wasn’t because of my disguise as a female?” He tilted his head.

“No, you idiot! I just… I loved the dance with you, it felt… normal. I’m not big on these things but it felt nice with you, even though I had no idea what I was doin’, it was almost like it didn’t matter. You were there and… And you were holdin’ on to me and… Me too. Felt nice, really nice.” Sniper crossed his arms on his chest.

Spy scooted over to Sniper on the sofa. He slipped one arm around the Aussie and hugged it while leaning on him.

“Spook?”

“Hm?” Spy had closed his eyes.

“Did you sing that song… to me?”

“For you, oui.”

“Did you… mean the stuff you sang?”

“Every single word.”

“Oh.” Sniper relaxed his arms and looked down to his left. Spy was clinging, breathing slowly.

“And you, were you really jealous?” He asked with his eyes shut.

“Yeah… Yeah, I was, for real. I’m a bit dumb like that. You touched me and I just… I just imagined things. Felt like a dream though, really.”

“The best kind of dream, the one that you make with open eyes.” Spy answered in a sigh, his heart swelling in his chest.

“Spook?”

“Oui?”

“Hold on…” Sniper pulled himself out of Spy’s embrace and the frenchman failed to hide his disappointment at the lack of contact. “It’s gettin’ late and uh…”

“You want to return to your van, I suppose?”

“Yeah, I mean… As much as I'd like to stay with you, uh…"

"Who said you couldn't?" Spy asked.

"No one, but… Even my bunk's more comfy than your couch."

“What about my bed?”

The surprise of the question made Sniper stop talking for a long moment. Spy smiled. He stood up and extended his hand to Sniper, the same way that he had done to invite him to dance. Sniper's eyes went from Spy's to his hand. He hesitated for a second, but raised his hand and put it on top of Spy's.

"Come on." Spy led him to his bedroom and shut the door after them. "I can lend you something to sleep with, although it might be a bit short on your legs."

"It's fine… I mean, I usually don't sleep with much but uh… Spy, you sure about this?"

Spy went to the other side of the bed. He satdown and gave his back to Sniper.

"I would love you to join me, please."

"A-alright." Sniper took the opportunity of Spy not looking at him to shed his clothes only to stay in his tanktop and boxer shorts. "You can turn, Spook."

"May I?"

"Yeah."

Spy turned and even in the low light of the night lamps Sniper saw his pupils blow wide.

"Uhm… So, you take that side?" The Aussie asked.

"The only side I take is yours."

Both slipped under the blanket and Spy latched on his lover. He put a hand on Sniper's chest, slithered a leg between his and rested his head on his shoulder.

"Woah…" Sniper said, overwhelmed by it all.

"If you would rather I faced the other side,-"

"No." Sniper cut Spy. "Nah, it's… you're alright."

"Sniper?"

"Hm?"

Spy raised his lips to be near the Aussie's ear.

"I am yours." He whispered.

"Gosh… c’mere…” This time Sniper wrapped his arms around Spy and hugged him dearly. He kissed his brow and the Frenchman moaned in thanks. “Oh, sorry, too much?”

“Non, on the contrary, please?”

Sniper kissed Spy on his forehead again and he felt the Frenchman’s legs stretch against his.

"Someone's happy, eh?”

“Delighted…” Spy purred and buried himself down Sniper’s neck, softly nuzzling there. He whispered words that the Aussie barely heard.

“Ah, wow… Spook, we’re never gonna sleep…” Sniper heard the soft sound of kisses, he felt the Frenchman gently exploring his skin. “Also, what’re you sayin’? Can’t hear you…”

“I am saying things that you know already, so you don’t need to hear them.” Spy purred.

“What? Nah, c'mon, tell me, I wanna know…” Sniper chuckled, Spy’s kisses were tickling him.

“I was saying…”

“Yeah?”

“Je t’aime.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I love you, Sniper.”

Sniper’s eyes snapped wide.

“I uh, me too, Spook. I… I love you.”

Spy pulled himself out of his hideout and looked down at Sniper, his cheeks red. He bent down until their foreheads touched, he gently brushed his hooked nose against Sniper’s. One of Spy’s hands was on Sniper’s cheek, the other was in his har, massaging his scalp.

“Gosh, Spook…” Sniper’s heartbeat filtered through his breath.

“May I?”

“May you what?”

“Do something that I have yearned to.” Spy whispered. “Please, I beg of you, Sniper, let me kiss your lips…”

Sniper’s breath hitched.

“I-yeah, pelase, Spook, I mean, yeah-mmmh…”

Spy did not wait for the end of the sentence and gently pushed his lips against Sniper’s, tightening the grip he had on his hair. Sniper rolled his eyes up in bliss and felt his entire body go limp. Only his heart burnt in his chest, and his lips too.

When Spy withdrew, they both took a deep breath and chuckled.

“Sorry, I’m…” Sniper looked away.

“Oh, please, don’t apologise you did nothing wrong.” Spy smiled and rested his forehead against Sniper’s again.

“Gosh, Spook, I can feel you breathin’ against me and… You’re layin’ on me… I love that, I mean, you’re warm and, I don’t know, it’s comfy.”

Spy chuckled.

“Spook?”

“Oui?”

“Can we do it again, I mean, pelase?”

“As much as you want.” Spy bent down to meet Sniper’s lips and the Aussie rolled on the bed to be on top of the Frenchman. He frowned as he took the lead and decided to kiss him better, not just pushing his lips. He gently grabbed Spy’s upper lip between both of his. Spy moaned low, like a pur, he hooked his arms up around Sniper’s neck and pulled his body down.

The night was spent. Sleepless, but it was spent.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Shen Wei Serving Lewks, Part 7

(Masterpost)

Look 30

Swamp coat...no wait, hang on.

Upon close inspection, this is not Swamp Coat, but a different loose trench coat in Swamp color. What the fuck, Shen Wei! Borrow one of your boyfriend’s coats again, pretty please?

Both times this tunic/coat outfit has appeared on Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan was wearing this gorgeous tailored denim number, with perfectly fitted shoulders and a nipped in waist. Sigh.

Anyway, Swamp Coat 2.0 is nicer than 1.0, and Shen Wei is wearing it with a with an immaculate super-casual loose white tunic with a band collar, so he looks beautiful even though this ensemble is decidedly meh.

As Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan get closer, Shen Wei’s wardrobe becomes looser and more casual, which is probably good for his psyche so...okay.

In addition to layers of loose fabric, this look features a checkered nosebleed hanky and the angriest face he has ever turned on Zhao Yunlan.

Along with definitely not kissing

(More behind the cut!)

And definitely not having a massive grope session like the last time Shen Wei got between Zhao Yunlan’s knees on this lab table.

Once the anger passes, however, this is a very good look for making out in a taxi with a boy who has excellent taste in coats.

Bonus Look 2: ZY’s Turn to Be Angry

This look belongs to Zhao Yunlan, who is wearing a single soft layer with a wide exposed neck so he can have an intense argument and hand touching with Shen Wei. This is Zhao Yunlan’s at home look, without the extra layer (vest or jacket, in a tough fabric) he always wears except when he’s alone with Shen Wei.

Shen Wei is like, no it’s fine honey, slicing my arm open is just a thing I do so I can eventually die spectacularly. Also I drained my life force for you, don’t make a big deal of it you know I hate when you make a big deal of things.

For once Zhao Yunlan gets to be the overprotective, upset partner in the relationship and also maybe the big spoon for a change. In keeping with his personality, he expresses himself explosively...

...while Shen Wei quietly leaks out emotions like the black smoke leaking from his wrist.

This is Zhao Yunlan without his armor, his swagger, his smile; this might be the only time he is as vulnerable with Shen Wei as Shen Wei (always) is with him.

Look 31

Shen Wei wears his blue double-breasted wedding crasher suit to begin his long, long relationship with this pillar.

This look features chains, more chains, and long conversations with ridiculous smoke effects.

Bonus Look 3 - ZY Rescue Trench

Now THAT is a trench coat. Do you hear me, Shen Wei's Swamp Coats?

Hilariously, we are meant to believe this superbly fitted coat with its itty bitty waist and this perfectly sized gun belt are what Zhao Yunlan took off of this schlubby guard. Zhao Yunlan DOES have magic powers!

This is a good outfit for convincing your lover to give up his relationship with a malevolent pillar and come home with you.

Did I hastily photoshop Smoke Dude out of that rescue picture? I did.

Is this just a gratuitous picture of freshly-unchained Shen Wei looking upset and Zhao Yunlan comforting him? It is. Shout out to all the H/C fans!

Look 32

This look is a grey suit with a white grid pattern, and striped red and blue accent fabric on the pocket and under the collar. This was briefly featured way back in the trauma cake arc. Here Shen Wei is also wearing a fresh cravat in grey tones.

Shen Wei had been wearing a narrower range of outfits lately because he doesn't have enough drawers at Zhao Yunlan's place, so he must have made a brief stop at his apartment to get some more things.

At home with Zhao Yunlan, Shen Wei wears this look with a bare face and neck, chilling in his white shirt with the collar stiffeners. I'm going to call them that forever; you can't stop me. Note how the shirt has darts (the vertical seams from his shoulder blades to his waist) so that it fits perfectly across the back.

This is a good look for lovingly preparing fresh fruit for your candy-addicted beloved and then watching him while he sleeps.

Shen Wei’s ass is now chainless, alas, but these trousers are doing yeoman’s werk work.

While Zhao Yunlan sleeps, Shen Wei takes the opportunity to check up on his special pendant necklace that he bought at a bong shop when he was in college.

Back in the full ensemble, Shen Wei is ready to have a haberdashery throwdown with his jerkass father-in-law, who normally has serious game in a plum coat and patterned vest.

Today Pop Zhao has unexpectedly said “fuck it” and worn a brown sweater and beige trench.

Don’t encourage Shen Wei’s boring taste in coats, Pop Zhao!

After easily winning the best-dressed award at tea, Shen Wei accessorizes his look with cheekbones that could cut glass, and his best “oops, busted” face when Zhao Yunlan sees him hanging out with the parent ZY hates so much that he has the same job and facial hair as him.

That leads to a wonderfully layered interaction, in which Shen Wei just kind of stands in front of Zhao Yunlan refusing to engage with his need for control, while Zhao Yunlan roasts Shen Wei for being untrustworthy...and then offers him a ride back to the office.

Guardian is so good at capturing the constantly-fluctuating state of a deep relationship, in which you can be fighting on one level and totally fine on another level; where you’re going to have a donnybrook with your lover but first you’re going to get a decent meal into them.

Skipping!

We’re skipping over the increasingly bloody tee-shirt ensemble that appears in the final episodes. That look says, “anti-gay narrative tropes suck.”

Instead, check out this beauty that Shen Wei wore for one poorly-lit scene early in the show. This is the only time he wears a fully-matched 3-piece suit and he SLAYS in it. And then puts it in mothballs forever.

I guess when you’re wearing an outfit the first time your sweetheart breaks into your apartment and disorganizes your panty drawer, you only want to wear it for the most special occasions after that.

Look 33

After a bunch of unnecessary yet compellingly-acted death, Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan meet up outside of time and space in a Windows 95 screensaver.

[That is a Gen X joke. OP is old.]

Shen Wei’s look for this meeting is the same one he wore the day they met in the modern world - the double-breasted 10-button vest, with arm garters and now also (SIGH) tears in his eyes. Instead of that, here is an infinite loop of Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan talking over dinner in their kitchen, because screw Episode 40.

Look 34

Exiting the screensaver, Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan fall out into the AU of your choice, because they realize that they left the wormhole together last time so it shouldn’t be too difficult to leave it together this time. They can just hold hands while they leave, for fuck’s sake.

In the AU of your choice they get married in these beautiful suits, as seen in Bazaar magazine.

Shen Wei’s look here features tousled hair and the glasses-free look he prefers when he’s with his true love. This is the first black suit we’ve seen him in, and he’s doing fine work in it, particularly with the gold bola thingy he’s wearing at the collar. Zhao Yunlan is so hot here that only Shen Wei dares to touch him.

Look 35

For the beach party they throw for their AU friends and neighbors a month after the wedding, (also courtesy of Bazaar’s photoshoot) Shen Wei chooses this short-legged suit with white canvas shoes, a lovely display of calf and a sprinkling of leg hair.

This look says, I love you forever and I'm pretty sure I can give you a spinal adjustment using only my leg muscles.

Shen Wei has replaced his bong-shop pendant with a tasteful diamond bar necklace, which was an apology gift from Zhao Yunlan after ZY intentionally accidentally set fire to Swamp Coats 1 through 4.

Near his heart Shen Wei is wearing a tie pin (sans tie) that’s made out of a lollipop stick.

Preview

The next post features Shen Wei’s cosplay looks including Black Robe Envoy and Ye Zun!

#guardian #weilan #zhu yilong #bai yu #shen wei #zhao yunlan #guardian spoilers #shen wei serving lewks #canary3d-original #zhen hun #menswear #c-drama #bl drama #my gifs #my stills #guardian memes #guardian gifs #bazaar does the best fixits #goddamn typos

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youllallriseintheink · 3 years

Text

Like a Heart Needs a Beat, chapter 1.

Hello, everyone. This is part one of two of an Abby x Lacie story. The first chapter is pretty much just going to be pure fluff, and next chapter the ink-related angst will kick in.

This story, and the next two two-part shipping stories I write, will be “canon” to my version of events.

---

It wouldn’t have been the first time that Bertrum had dragged Lacie to one of the parties he hosted, but that didn’t mean that she had to like it. She got it, she really did- Bertrum thought she deserved to experience the finer things in life (some of which, to be fair, Lacie did enjoy), and didn’t get that no amount of exposure would make her enjoy this. Still, as she was now, forced into a suit once owned by Bertrum’s son and listening to Bertrum trade compliments that were really insults (or whatever they were. They had a strange way of communicating with each other that Lacie didn’t think she wanted to understand) with his client while dozens of men were flirting with each others’ trophy wives in the background, she felt out of place and a little irritated at Bertrum for insisting she come. It was as Joey and Bertrum were getting especially petty that Lacie just had to look away, and across the room, Lacie saw a woman who looked twice as miserable as she was and only slightly more in-her-element.

Lacie approached her. It was a pretty girl, despite looking like she was completely done with this party. She was wearing a grey suit, clearly tailored for her, and had short, curly hair, dark eyes, clear, dark skin. Her body was pretty nice, too. Yeah, Lacie was going to do this.

“Hey,” Lacie said, “You look like you could use some air. Want me to show you a place where we can get away from the party for a while?”

The woman slowly turned her head to look at her. “Sure. Why not?” she replied without changing expression. Lacie would have to hope that would change and that the woman wasn’t just a natural sourpuss.

Lacie smiled. “Come with me.”

Bertrum was a nice man. He allowed Lacie to step out of parties when she needed to, and even gave her one heck of a place to go when she did: Bertrum’s bird room.

Bertrum loved birds. Bertrum raised birds. It was his favourite hobby. The bird room contained two cages of small, pet-store birds, a larger cage for his doves, and a number of nests for his other birds- three chickens, two ducks, a goose, a swan, and (out of place as they looked amongst the farm fowl) two peafowl. It was easy to keep so many pets when you could pay people to look after them. The bird room opened up to an outdoor enclosure, but this time of day they were all in their nests.

“Pretty cool, right?” Lacie said. “Wanna feed em’? I’m the host’s plus-one. Don’t worry, he won’t mind.”

The woman seemed pretty impressed. “Sure,” she replied.

Lacie showed her to the plastic barrel of dried corn in the corner. The birds crowded them, eager, which made them laugh.

After they’d spent a while feeding the birds, the woman had cheered up significantly, and so Lacie tried to make conversation.

“So. My name’s Lacie. And you know why I’m here. What’s your name, and why are you here? And why don't you want to be here? Because it's obvious you don't.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Abby Lambert. Nice to meet you, Lacie. I’m here because Joey Drew begged me to be his plus one so he wouldn’t have to come alone. And... instead of telling people that I was his friend or his coworker, or lying and telling people I was his girlfriend, he made up this lie that I’d won a contest to get to go with him. That I was his biggest fan. I’ll be honest- that pissed me off. He didn’t think it was right for his image, I guess."

“Oof, that sucks. You know, I’m just one of Bertrum’s engineers, and I don’t know an eighth of the high society stuff he does, but he would still never do that.”

“Thanks. And thanks for taking me out for some air.”

“No problem.”

It was a few more minutes of feeding birds before Lacie decided to throw her shot. “If Joey wants to be a jerk he can stay here on his own. Wanna get out of here?”

Abby looked Lacie up and down, and suddenly Lacie wished she were wearing something a little more revealing than this ill-fitting suit- especially since Abby’s was accentuating every curve of her body. But Abby clearly liked what she saw.

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice.”

The two took a cab to Abby’s apartment, where they spent the night.

---

After the one-night stand, Abby had left Lacie her number. If one night was good, why not make it several? And then, Lacie had surprised her by asking her out. To an art museum.

“You like art, right? It’s not just a job? I mean, I wouldn’t want you taking me to a construction site.”

God, she was a dork. A muscular, handsome dork. Abby had to roll her eyes at herself for being so caught up on a woman, but she eventually broke down and asked Joey a few pointed questions during their lunch break a few days before the date. “So, Mr. Romantic- can you give me some tips about how to sweep a woman off her feet? I’m meeting someone tonight.”

Joey had smiled teasingly at her. “Oh, my. The ever-serious Abby Lambert is lovestruck!”

“You’re gross. It was good sex. That’s all.”

“Right. That’s why you came to me for advice. Well, I’d say just be natural. Be friendly, make jokes, find common interests, all that common-sense stuff. And then at the end of the night invite her over for some wine and radio, read her signs, and that’s when you start getting physical.” Joey suddenly went from smiling and talking with his hands to being much more serious. “Oh, and... I’m sorry about the other night. You know how it is... I respect you, the art department respects you, but I can’t trust random people to do so, and I can’t avoid interacting with people who won’t.”

He didn’t even have to say that it was because she was a black woman. It was the same reason why Joey had promoted someone else ahead of her as head of the art department- he hadn’t trusted that the others would accept her authority. But, after she’d handled the art department while her ex-superior was on vacation and there hadn’t been any problems, Joey had snatched the promotion right out of his hands and put it in Abby’s. Not fair to the ex-head of the art department, but Joey rarely was. Even if he wasn’t perfect, though, he was still one of the few in this day and age who would hand a high position to her under any circumstance, and one of the few she could discuss her relationships with.

“Maybe we should just not talk about that. See you soon, Joey.” Why think about that when Abby had more cheerful things to think about?

---

When Lacie showed up to the art museum, she was wearing a leather jacket, scuffed jeans, and heavy boots. She’d definitely stand out in a dainty place like this.

“So, do you know anything about art?” Abby asked as they went to the first section, which featured a number of surrealist paintings.

“Not a thing!” Lacie admitted, not at all ashamed. “Are you the type who likes to teach, or the type who just wants me to shut up and enjoy it on the level I’m at?”

“I... guess I wouldn’t mind explaining some things.”

“Okay. So, this one,” Lacie gestured at a painting of half-melted clocks hanging off of tree branches and the like. “It must represent something real deep, right?”

“Well, there’s more to art than symbolism, and surrealist stuff doesn’t have to have a deeper meaning. But... maybe it means that time just melts away when you’re having fun.”

It was midnight before Abby was back in her apartment. The museum had closed before they’d felt like any time had passed, and so they’d gone for a walk together in the city and stopped at whatever shops caught their eyes. It had been fun.

Abby’s apartment was the apartment of a chronically single woman in her thirties who had made it. It was clean and organized, but not too clean and organized. It had a large window overlooking the city in the living room, and near it, an eisel had been set up, with a half-done painting on it of a sunset over a city skyline. There was a rack of oft-used wine glasses in the kitchen, lesser-used exercise equipment in the laundry room. Abby’s bedroom contained her collection of houseplants, two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and a closet full of suits her mom had tailored for her at a reduced cost.

Joey had always said that he never wanted to get married because he didn’t want to share space with anyone else. Abby had rolled her eyes and punched his arm for that. Joey was always coming up with reasons why he didn’t want a relationship, and none of them were true. Abby, on the other hand, had just assumed and accepted that it just wouldn’t happen. The chances were against it unless she made it a priority in her life, and she was focused on career and art. Could it really happen with this hooligan? It was hard to imagine letting her into this apartment- this apartment of a woman who had made it- on a permanent basis. But, maybe. Only time would tell.

---

Things went from there. They continued to date for over a year. Abby taught Lacie how to draw, and Lacie taught Abby how to fight. They started spending more nights than not over at each other’s places. Joey still didn’t know about it, because Abby knew how jealous Joey got when it came to relationships. Shawn on the other hand definitely knew, and teased the hell out of Lacie for it and later came to Lacie for help with his own relationship once he got into one.

Christmas that year, Shawn had scrapped together enough funds to visit Ireland. This was a problem, because Shawn and Lacie usually spent their Christmases together. As per usual, Lacie didn’t have the means to visit her home state of Alpaccia, so it looked like it would be a lonely Christmas for her.

“You want to come visit my family?” Abby offered as Lacie had been complaining about it.

“Yeah. I’d love that,” Lacie admitted. She hadn’t had a Christmas with a real family in... well, a long time, at any rate.

Abby’s family consisted of her mother and her two-years older brother, who had brought a wife and two kids. The father had died in the war while Abby was a child. They had a traditional Christmas together- old Christmas records, decorating a tree, staying up late to play cards and chat once Abby’s niece and nephew were in bed until they could barely keep their eyes open, and then watching the kids open their presents in the morning.

It kind of hurt Lacie to see such a beautiful family, but it was nice, too. It hurt because she remembered having to go off to her friends’ houses when her parents were too high to remember to feed her. She remembered having to make her own doctor’s appointments at the age of nine, and running off to live with her big sister at fourteen. But it was still nice to be there, just because it was.

As they were packing up in the guest bedroom, Lacie started crying, and Abby took notice. She’d never seen her cry before.

“What’s wrong?

“Nothing,” she said, and thankfully Abby had left her alone about it.

It was a week later, after Lacie had had some time to think, that she made her offer. “Abby, I want to start a family with you. I know we can’t get married in the traditional sense, but we can get a place together, find some man to give us a kid, and stay together for the rest of our lives. I could even buy you a ring if you want. Do you wanna do this?”

Abby was awestruck. “Lacie... oh my God, yes. Let’s do it.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #abby lambert #lacie benton #lacie x abby #my fanfiction #joey drew #thanks to lovelykitten2017 for the Bertrum headcanon!#(the one of him owning lots of birds)

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guineapigsinwinter · 3 years

Text

Bardstars.

Pina smiled as he stepped of the ship’s gangplank, taking in Cherryton harbour. It was a wealthy coastal city that much was clear, a trade hub between several continents and home to various markets and adventuring guilds.

Perfect for him to vanish, enjoy himself for a while and decide where to go next. He loved his parents he really did. But they wanted him to stay home, to be part of the family business like his siblings. To use his gifts for the good of the family. To fit within their ideal of what a young, straight ram should be.

He needed space, he needed freedom. Adventure… maybe not danger, but new experiences, new places, new people to charm? It was all he had wanted in his twenty years so far.

The gold he had borrowed from several other passengers would pay for a pleasant stay at a high class inn for a while, and perhaps seeing if any needed a singer could be fun.

He ended up getting a room in a rather lovely small brick built inn called the Jolly Dragon next to the main market square, the gas lights and running water a wonder to behold. The market itself was another wonder, a stone paved plaza you could have fitted several of the small villages he had passed in his year or so of traveling. It was almost overwhelming, the sheer variety of sounds, smells and sights greater then anything he had seen before. He’d spent most of the day browsing when he passed a tailors stall, silk dresses, gowns, skirts and bodies on racks and displays.

They were beautiful. It was one of the final straws that had made him leave, his families inability to understand that he did not see clothing as feminine or masculine but rather if it made him beautiful or handsome. Whilst he enjoyed both, it was the way his attempts to feel the former were criticised and dismissed that had made him decide he had to leave. He still loved them though, he just needed some time to explore this side of himself without their judgement.

Carefully humming a tune with the smallest amount of Power he could, Pina ensured no one noticed him as he browsed. He saw a golden yellow floor length dress with gorgeous rosettes sewn in silver thread that looked like it would fit him and he knew he was in love. The silk was music to his skin, the sheer skill in the simple but elegant design nearly breath taking. Adding a sliver of power, his hum taking on a faster tempo, he strengthened his song of invisibility and took the dress, carefully folding it as he left the stall.

Pina walked out of the tiny en suite bathroom into his hotel room in the plush towel provided, feeling refreshed and was glad to have the sea air out of his wool. He froze when he saw the large male grey wolf sat on his bed, the dress in his hands. The lapis blue tabard over his trousers and shirt, and the dragon emblazoned upon it clearly stated his dedication to Bahumut.

“It is rather beautiful is it not? Like all of Ghestion’s work, though his skill warrants better payment then theft surly?” The wolf said quietly, looking up appraising Pina with calm eyes.

Crap. For the first time in a ages Pina couldn’t think of what to say. How had he been noticed, or followed from the market? As weak as his song of invisibility was it should have prevented exactly this situation.

With a small chuckle, the wolf put the dress down on the bed before talking. “Don’t worry, I covered the cost, I told Ghestion you were a friend of mine who just got excited by his skill.”

“How? I.. I mean why did you follow me? How the hell did you get in?” Pina asked, hoping to buy time. For him to think of an excuse or escape plan.

The wolf beamed. “Your singing. It’s good but I’m guessing you have only been trained in the basics as to not hurt anyone and a few little things you taught yourself. A good friend of mine is a master of it, and far, far more subtle. You were practically a beacon to anyone able to sense magic. Could I have your name please?”

His.. song had given him away? The gift that had always allowed him charm and persuade anyone he couldn’t naturally, to escape any situation was the thing that had corned him? “Pina, my name is Pina.”

He’d given his actual name. What the fuck. He’d meant to give a fake one, what the hell?

“Pina? Well I’m Legoshi. I’m a member of one of the local adventuring guilds, and a cleric at the cities temple of Bahumut and as such if I request to investigate a room most of the time it will be granted. Now why did you steal this dress? Or even try to be invisible whilst browsing?” He said kindly, looking only a few years older then Pina as he smiled and wagged his tail.

Something about his tone made Pina mad. Who was this cleric to judge him? So what if he liked dresses as much as more traditionally masculine clothes?

“Because I know just what would happen! The jokes and mocking just because I don’t see the frankly ridiculous notions of gender that people put to clothes because of religious pricks like you! Because even if I had the money for it I’d never be allowed to buy it or be mocked for doing so or wearing it!” His rage bursting out, his brother’s comments and father’s stern, kind but sad stares burning in his memory.

“Maybe because I just want to be beautiful okay? To be able to wear what I like without being considered an embarrassment or shameful. To not be told something as simple as wearing clothes that feel good and comfortable is wrong, or a sign of madness or illness! I just want to be me without scorn is that too much to fucking ask?” Pina shouted at Legoshi.

The wolf sighed sadly, stood up and then strode over, hugging Pina. “Ahh it is the same old story. You shouldn’t worry, at least not here. Most of the stores are used to my guilds.. eccentricities. I have a few of Ghestion’s dresses myself, he is the only dressmaker in the city who can get my build right.”

Pina stared in shock. “You.. you wear them as well? But you’re a cleric! Doesn’t that go against Bahumut or something?”

Legoshi laughed, a quiet but full and friendly laugh that filled the room. “Yes, not especially often but I’ve always just gone with what is comfortable or looks good. And the Platinum Dragon is concerned with justice, not anyone’s choice in clothing.”

Someone else understood it, someone else understood not caring for what society classed different types of clothing as. Pina felt a surge of elation at not being alone, at there being others like him.

“And your Temple, your guild is okay with it? And similar.. preferences?” He asked hesitantly, prompting a further quite chuckle from the cleric.

“It would be quite awkward if they weren’t, I think Voss and Els are the only ones who have traditional preferences so to speak. Though to be fair most adventuring guilds don’t really care. You are not from around here are you?” Legoshi said as he walked to the window and sat at the chair.

“No, arrived today actually, from Storngate actually.” Pina said calmly.

Legoshi nodded and closed his eyes before turning the chair so his back was facing Pina. “I have never been but have heard of the unfortunate opinions and attitudes there. Get dressed and we can talk more.”

#beastars #fanfic #dnd #beastars pina #Bard Pina #Cleric Legoshi #Legoshi

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charlettebffxiv · 3 years

Text

Prompt #22 Fluster

The seasons were truly turning at this point. Each sun could go either way, grey clouds hanging above and threatening rain could blow away within a handful of bells and reveal a blistering glow, and that heat may disappear in a gust that brings the grey back. It made for some annoying uncertainty, especially on suns when there was too much to do to really sit and think about it. Charlette had not taken the time to think any of this over, and was left with nothing but a light coat to protect her against the downpour that was threatening. And the thin hope that it would never come. The steel grey clouds above were inclined to disagree.

“Please don’t.” She murmured to herself, looking up at the sky and offering this little request. Maybe the Twelve would be listening, take pity, and hold it off for just one sun. That was utterly irrational, of course, and she knew this. But what else could she do at this point? Charlette was dressed in her best, being caught in the rain would be a swift end to all of that. Bells spent under Chloe’s administration of make-up would wash away, rainwater seeping into the one Ishgardian dress she had allowed herself to buy. Corsets were already tight, and silk isn’t the most inclined to shrink, but she hardly wanted to test it. Worst though, she would have to turn back. It would be a swift end to an evening she had been looking forward to for weeks. It was not often that every one of them were in Willow’s Heart at the same time, her friends and fellow members were constantly being split-up and sent away. And with everything happening, such as her pending hearing and possible exile, that divide had been feeling even deeper. This would be the first time they would all be together, even if it had to be at an event organised by the Order itself. Formal, and filled with interruptions, it would not be quite as good as one spent at the tavern in their own company and none others. But it would have to do, weather willing. A droplet fell, smacking the cobblestones on the pathway she walked. The darkened little patch like a prelude to the mess she would suddenly become. “Shit.” Why did her family have to pick a house so far from the village center. The walk there alone took ages, and now it had cost her what little time she’d had. Charlette turned, planning to go home, disappointment setting in just like the first few taps of rain against her shoulders. Ah well, another evening with her books and in the warmth of her home would likely make-up for it, maybe. FWUMP! Suddenly, an umbrella was above her head. “You’re going the wrong way.” Charlette looked up, and barely recognized him. Loash, the usually gruff highlander stood in a suit of all things. The surprise must have been worn on her face, as he looked down at himself, then back to her and grunted. “Emille made me wear it. Fanciest getup I’ve ever owned. Was a gift.” The way he said that, you’d think Emille had given him bottled rabies. His face was clean shaven, his hair cut short at the sides, long at the top and slicked back. He smelled clean, and perfumed, sandalwood? Perhaps, Charlette didn’t have a nose for colognes, all she knew was she liked it. A long sleeved suit jacket that had been tailored to fit him, slacks and a waistcoat all in a midnight blue. Loash plucked the sides, frowned, then spread his legs, grabbed the crotch and tugged down. It didn’t move very far. “Feel like a fruit roll, all twirled up and stuck together.” He was not comfortable, not in that suit. But Charlette was sure it was not because of pinching or chafing. It was something she was familiar with, being put in a skin you couldn’t wear without losing a bit of yourself. “You look, uh, yes well Emille is always well dressed so, you know. You look like he does, like you know what you’re doing. Uh, is it pinching?” Loash stopped, then let go of the crotch he was pulling at again and shook his head. “Nah, it’s just, too close to my bits. You tryin’ to say I look like Emille? That’s a little like saying I look like my dad. That’s weird.” Charlette shook her head, a little harder than needed but she was also trying to shake off her fluster. “No, no. It looks good Loash, you look really, really good.” And that was perhaps a little stronger than it needed to be. There was an awkward silence that dragged on for several seconds, Loash looking down at the ground, one hand in his pocket, the other holding up the large umbrella that easily covered both of them from the soft rain that had started. Charlette looked to the side, hands clasped in front of her, mouth twisting as she fought to find words. “You look nice too. Real pretty. Like Emille’s wife in the paintings. Fancy like, y’know? That the, ah, Ishgardian dress?” Charlette nodded, he was close to giving a rather nice compliment until he compared her to a widower's late wife. “Yes, ah… yes it is. Nothing too fancy, was not all that expensive but it is from Ishgard.” That was a lie, high-necked, corseted dresses made with silk and subtle volume to the skirts that sat just high enough to show off shoes, but not too far as to go above the ankle did not come cheap. At least not at the time she bought it, since it was the current fashion of that moon. “I like the colour, matches my suit. Looks good on you though, guess you can prove everyone right now.” Charlette cocked her head to the side, confused “About what?” “That you’re the fanciest of us. Could move into Ishgard tomorrow and fit right in. Like you do in that dress. Not tight is it?” She shook her head, nose raising up a little, feeling slightly indignant at the assumption made by her so-called friends. Even if it was a common tease they used at her expense. “Yeah, like that. Got it just right, Emille does it too. Proper Ishgardian.” Loash was far too honest in his well-meaning to give Charlette any room to express her annoyance. Which was even more annoying. “Well… good.” A quick nod, then he jabbed a finger out, over her shoulder. “Wanna go together? Rains gonna wash that pretty face of yours off. Not that it’d make a big difference, but you might look a little clown-like with it all runny.” The rain was only going to get harder now, so they would have to get moving soon. “Might as well. I didn’t come prepared.” Loash held an arm out, and she took it. It was hard beneath the sleeve, and warm, as was the rest of him when they pressed in close to hide from the droplets. A little shiver ran up Charlette’s spine, she could feel her skin pulling tight into goosebumps beneath her silk sleeves. Well, that was a little strange, she was not cold. It’s probably nothing. “What’re you smiling about?” Loash asked, looking down at her. “Nothing, now stop looking at me like that. You do look like Emille when you are all creased up and judgemental like that.” Loash blinked, looked forward, and muttered “Bossy…”

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv writing #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv rp #ffxiv #elezen #duskwight

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 10: Stay, I Need To Be Myself]

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the fluffy times while they lasted. 😉

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Where Were You When The Sky Opened Up” by The Dangerous Summer.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual references (not graphic), angstttttttttt.

Word Count: 6k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk

Uninvited

“Hey, it’s our song!” Joe turned up the radio as he steered his Subaru down the Lees’ cobblestone driveway and into a parking spot facing the woods. We’d been back from Chicago for a full week now, and—with the notable exceptions of classes and the early morning hours when Joe soundlessly crept out of my bedroom window—were very rarely apart.

“And I would do anything for love

I’d run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I’d never lie to you and that's a fact.”

“Uh, this is not our song,” I objected, the soles of my shoes propped against the dashboard. “I was not consulted. A couple’s official song cannot be a unilateral decision.”

“But I'll never forget the way you feel right now

Oh no, no way

And I would do anything for love

Oh I would do anything for love

I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that

No, I won’t do that.”

“Oh okay, what are you, the relationship police? Alright, Chief Baby Swan, let’s hear your brilliant suggestion. Wait, let me guess. Something by The Killers. Vampire Weekend. My Bloody Valentine. Is there a band called Chipotle Veggie Bowl?”

“Never Gonna Give You Up?” I suggested.

He laughed, dragging me over the center console and into his lap. “Oh, you are the worst!”

I straddled him in the driver’s seat, cupped his face in my palms, giggled as I touched my lips to his, soft and cool and lithe and inviting. When I broke the kiss, Joe pulled me back in, knotting his fingers through my hair. The way my thighs fit perfectly around him; that sharp, instinctual, now so familiar ache of longing. “I want you,” I breathed.

He pretended to be scandalized. “Right now? At this exact moment? In my parents’ driveway?”

“Yeah,” I confessed.

He grinned, unbuckling his belt. “Okay.”

“Really?!”

“Yes. I’ve lost all sense of decency. I’m an animal. You’ve absolutely ruined me.” His hands travelled beneath my U Chicago sweatshirt and tore it over my head. Yes, he had converted me to Chicago apparel. It was very embarrassing. Let’s move on.

“I’m sorry,” I moaned softly. I lied. I wasn’t sorry at all.

“I think we might need to get our own place.”

“Why?”

“Because I love the way you ruin me. And I want you to do it...” He went on, kissing me after each word: “All. The. Fucking. Time.”

I yanked off his Cubs t-shirt in one vicious tug. “We’re okay out here?” I didn’t really care; I should have, I was aware of that. But I didn’t. The Lees, most likely, would not call my dad to report us for public indecency. I could imagine Scarlett’s voice in my head, warm with approval: Get it, girl.

“Totally. And we’re far enough away from the house, Rami shouldn’t be able to hear us.” Joe nipped lightly down the side of my neck: carefully, always so carefully.

“He’d only get your side of things anyway.”

“Well yeah, that’s what I’m worried about! Your thoughts wouldn’t be so intrusive. I don’t care if he knows I’m a fantastic lay.”

“Oh, are you?” I teased, grinding my hips against him. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Joe smiled as he unbuttoned my jeans, deliciously slowly. “Well let me...just...refresh your...memory...”

I kissed him, roughly and deeply, arching into him, biting his lower lip. Yes, yes, yes...

Joe pulled away, still smiling but blinking and dazed. “Wow, all the sudden I feel...like...really calm.”

“Thanks...?” A week of almost constant sex might do that to a person. Sure, maybe, what did I know? My lips found his again. My hand skated down his bare stomach and into the waistband of his boxers. Joe began to help me peel off my jeans; then he stopped.

“Wait wait wait, I know this feeling.” Joe lifted me off of him and pushed me back into the passenger’s seat, gently but stubbornly. I tried not to be offended.

“What—?”

“Shhh.” He grabbed the headrest of my seat and twisted around to peer out of the rear windshield. I followed his gaze. There was a new car in the driveway, parked up by the front porch: an anonymous black Honda Civic. The plate said California. It was probably a rental. “Oh fuck,” Joe whispered. His eyes were enormous, glassy, horrified.

“What is it?”

“Stay here.” He threw on his Cubs t-shirt, zipped his pants, fastened his belt. “Stay down, stay quiet. And no matter what happens do not get out of this car, do you understand me?”

“Joe, why—?”

“Do you understand me?” His voice was low but severe, so incredibly unlike him; his dark eyes were flinty. Just like that night with the apples in Mercy’s kitchen, that night when Ben almost...

“I understand,” I heard myself reply.

“Good.” Joe climbed out of the Subaru—smoothing his shirt and then his tousled hair—and rushed over to intercept the unsolicited guest. I peeked around my headrest to watch, my right palm braced against the center console, that feverish lust that had been rushing through my bloodstream gradually weakening, perishing, vanishing like seawater baked from the sand under a rising sun.

The stranger stepped out of the Honda Civic, and although I knew his face, it took me a moment to place him. It was like—I could only imagine, having never been myself—a child stumbling into their movie heroines and beloved stuffed animals come to life during their first trip to Disneyland, amazed and yet somehow gut-twistingly uneasy as they gawked up at that grotesquely inflated cartoon face, that mask of lipstick and rouge that didn’t quite match their recollections, that dreamlike mirage plucked from pages or screens and impelled into a physical form that suddenly swallowed up space and gravity and oxygen. I had seen this stranger before in the massive painting that adorned Gwilym Lee’s upstairs office.

Cato.

He was very tall and very beautiful, classically beautiful, Ben-level beautiful. Joe often jokingly referred to him as Idris Elba within the Lee household, and a mid-thirties version of Idris Elba was just about right. He wore an immaculately tailored grey suit and aviator sunglasses, which he removed to greet Joe, folding and then sliding them smoothly into the front pocket of his suit jacket. His face was solemn and observant; he had a closely-trimmed beard without a fleck of silver. He extended a hand, which Joe shook.

“Hey, Cato!” I heard Joe say, muffled through the walls of the Subaru. I couldn’t make out Cato’s replies; his voice sounded deep, rumbling, extremely level. “So nice of you to stop by! I didn’t know you were in town. Yeah, everyone’s doing great. Even Ben. Hahaha, yeah, you know how he is. You know exactly how he is. But it’s all good. Well look, I’m just gonna go run a friend home and then I’ll be back in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes and we can all chat. Okay? Awesome. Feel free to head inside, I’m sure Mercy would be thrilled to play hostess. There’s sweet tea in the fridge and a hummingbird cake on the counter and...oh, something else too...some weird type of cookies she baked this morning. Help yourself. I’ll be back before you can say ‘tyrannical vampire murder cult.’”

“Tyrannical vampire murder cult,” it looked like Cato replied without a hint of a smile. But he wasn’t paying attention to Joe anymore. His eyes had found the Subaru, and then me; he was staring with that intense, seeking bewilderment that reminded me of Rami and Lucy and Ben when I’d first met them, when they were still trying to puzzle out why my mind (and my mind alone) was a night-draped, silent ocean of the unknown.

He's trying to read me, I realized. He’s trying to read me and he can’t.

Joe was jogging back to the Subaru now. At last, Cato turned away from me and headed into the house. The carved pumpkins from Weber’s Farm still lined the front porch: Scarlett’s Thunderbird, Archer’s Vantage, Rami’s swooping bat, Lucy’s moon and stars, Joe’s moustached jack-o-lantern, my (but actually Gwil’s) snapshot under the sea, Ben’s miniature Lee residence complete with the winding cobblestone driveway. Joe swept into the driver’s seat, adjusted his rearview mirror, and spun out of the parking spot.

“Goddammit,” he hissed as we barreled down the driveway.

“Why is Cato here?”

“I have no idea.” Joe looked straight ahead as he drove, preoccupied, consumed with possibilities. His fingers drummed the steering wheel. “We have to pay dues to them, all the covens do. Gwil cuts a check. But that’s not until around the New Year. That’s almost always when Cato stops by. Collects the payment, interrogates us in a way that masquerades as conversation, hangs around town for a few days, reports back whatever we’re up to...which usually isn’t much. Holidays with the extended family, gotta love it. I don’t know why he would be here now.” Joe shook his head. “Maybe something to do with Ben. It would have to be Ben. There’s no other reason.”

“And you don’t want him to know about me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“But...Cato isn’t all that dangerous,” I said, not understanding. “Is he?”

“Not alone, no. But the people he works for are.” Joe sighed, glancing over at me as he drove, serious and sorry and sad. “There’s a lot of violence in my world. A lot of darkness. I’ve tried to protect you from that as much as possible. And maybe I’ve done too good a job, maybe it’s too easy for you to forget what we really are. Most vampires aren’t like Gwil’s coven. They’re not like me. They kill easily and unrepentantly. And I don’t want any of them knowing that you exist, that you’re a weakness of ours. I want them to know as little about you as physically possible.”

“A weakness,” I repeated. I didn’t like that.

He smiled faintly. “It’s a compliment to be somebody’s weakness, Baby Swan.”

“I guess so.” The towering pine trees whipped by in a verdant blur. The sky above was thick and grey and churning. “You’ll be okay, right? Ben will be okay?”

Joe seemed to find that amusing, ridiculous even. “You don’t need to worry about us.”

“But I still do.”

“We’ll work it out, whatever it is. Cato is a reasonable guy. And Ben is definitely capable of...well. Advocating for himself.”

Capable of unparalleled carnage, he means. The memory of the first day I’d met Ben hit me like a hurled stone, illuminated my mind like a pulsing neon sign: the coiled tension in his muscles, that mindless, animalistic hatred in his eyes. Yes, he must be quite the monster when he wants to be. But he didn’t want to be anymore. I knew that completely, unquestioningly.

Joe pulled into Charlie’s driveway. The police car was gone; my 1999 Honda Accord and Charlie’s Toyota Corolla rested idly side by side. My dad would be working late tonight, until eight or nine at least. A pang of loneliness struck in my gut, just beneath the ribs; I had grown so accustomed to the absence of solitude, of quiet. The silence suddenly felt so loud.

“Don’t let it ruin your night,” Joe said as I got out of the Subaru. His words were affectionate; but his voice was still distracted, distant. “Don’t let it bother you. Everything will be fine, I promise. And as soon as Cato’s gone, everything will go back to the way it should be.”

“Okay,” I replied, not feeling very comforted at all. I don’t like the way he pushed me off him when he saw the car. The way he’s barely looked at me since. The way he called me a weakness.

Joe was already checking his mirrors, preparing to leave.

“Hey. Mob guy.” I leaned into the rolled-down window. “I love you.”

And the grin lit up Joe’s face like the sun. He crawled across the passenger’s seat, drew me into him by the collar of my brand new U Chicago hoodie, kissed me until that wild, interrupted desire was flaring up again in my arteries and nerve endings and everywhere else. The thunderous clouds in my skull split open. Everything’s still okay. It really is. “I love you to death. And then back again.” He retreated and shifted the Subaru into reverse. “I’ll see you soon. But maybe not too soon, I might be tied up with this family thing for a while. Don’t wait up tonight.”

“No problem. I’ll just call one of my other monster boyfriends to keep me company. The werewolf should be free. It’s not a full moon, is it?”

“No bestiality,” Joe retorted sternly. “That’s illegal, ma’am.”

I smiled and waved as the Subaru swerved out of the driveway and disappeared. Everything’s okay, I told myself, standing in the front yard under darkening skies. Everything will be okay.

And I kept telling myself that, again and again like Hail Marys, until I was dozing off in my bed alone six hours later.

Hit It And Quit It

I dreamed of the beach at La Push—my toes wriggling beneath the cold sand, the ricocheting cries of seagulls, the primordial growl of the frothing waves—and woke up with the ghost of saltwater in my sinuses. I grabbed my iPhone off the nightstand. Two new texts: one from Archer—Hey would it be distasteful or hilarious to dress up as Dracula for the Lee Halloween party? Asking for a friend.—and one from Jessica asking if she could copy my Marine Botany homework. Absolutely nothing from Joe.

When was the last time I didn’t have a text from Joe waiting for me in the morning? I struggled to remember, my mind still foggy with snippets of dreams. A week? Two weeks? A month? It felt like forever.

I tapped out a text to Joe with my clumsy, just-waking-up thumbs: I am resolved. No more nights with my werewolf boyfriend. Dude scratched the hell out of me and then barked at the mailman. Had to drop him off at the SPCA for neutering. See you soon! xxxx

I tried not to obsessively check my phone as I showered, got dressed, gathered my textbooks and notepads and pens. And yet still, I noticed: Joe didn’t text me back.

The rain poured from a grey sky all through my drive to Calawah University, Marine Botany class with Jessica, our frantic dash across campus beneath her hot pink umbrella to Forks And Spoons. My human friends had custody of me during lunchtime today. Angela was studying for a Computer Science quiz, Eric working on an article for the Calawah Chatterbox, Mike histrionically lamenting a sprained ankle coming just on the cusp of basketball season. Jessica bought me a chocolate chip muffin as thanks for texting her a picture of our Marine Botany homework this morning. Ah, the sweet taste of academic dishonesty.

I was relieved—more than I would have liked to admit—that all five Lees were at their usual lunch table, looking worn and tired but normal enough. Ben was hiding behind a pair of sunglasses and his black U Chicago hoodie that Joe and I had bought for him last weekend, sipping steaming tea out of a mug that he gripped with both hands. Scarlett flipped moodily through an astrophysics textbook. Rami repeatedly tapped the tabletop with a pen while Lucy knitted a lavender sweater, never raising her eyes from the jumble of yarn in her lap. They all murmured to each other in low, furtive voices, their mouths barely moving. Joe gave me a wave and a drawn smile; but only after I waved first.

Angela was now scolding Jessica for her lack of moral integrity.

Jess rolled her eyes, gnawing on a chicken finger that was burned black around the edges. “I’m here ostensibly to become an anthropologist and in actuality to find a hot rich husband, not to learn how to identify like sixty different types of algae.”

“Then why even take Marine Botany?” Angela asked, confounded.

“Calawah University forces every student to take at least two science classes, even if you’re a humanities major. Because they’re fucking fascists.”

“Oh, fascists, a big word for you!” I congratulated Jessica, patting her shoulder before returning my attention to my homemade veggie quesadilla and leftover slice of Mercy’s hummingbird cake. I was getting so good at this eating respectable meals thing. Joe would be proud.

Angela chuckled. “How’s that finding a husband thing going, by the way?”

“Awfully,” Jessica sighed. “I had this really promising flirtationship going with a frat boy in my Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin, gorgeous blue eyes, blond man bun, his dad is a partner at a corporate law firm in Los Angeles. That’s the stuff dreams are made of. But I’m pretty sure he dropped out because I haven’t seen him in a few days. Also he would bring Absolut vodka to class in an Aquafina bottle.”

“You can probably do better,” I said.

“Well we can’t all end up with Lee boys, now can we?” Jess snapped irritably.

When it was time to depart for our afternoon classes, I met Joe in the doorway of Forks And Spoons, linked my fingers around the back of his neck, tugged at his dark, auburn-tinted hair.

“You okay, mob guy? You seem a little...” Exhausted? Edgy? Sad? “...Distracted.”

“I’m good. I’m great.” He kissed me briefly, fleetingly. No big deal; after all, we were in public. Right? “Are you cool to hang out later?”

“Absolutely. Can we go to La Push if it stops raining? I know it’ll be cold, but I woke up with the beach on my mind and haven’t been able get it out all day.”

“You got it. Can I meet you there? I have to take care of a few things first. Have to, uh, hunt.”

I stared up at him, feeling my stomach drop, feeling rapidly and jarringly off-kilter. Joe rarely mentioned hunting around me...not in a serious way, at least. It was one of those things that knocked me out of the fantasy of how compatible we were, how possible. It was a reminder of all those interminable differences that lived in the hushed space between us. “Okay.”

“I’ll...I’ll explain everything then. At La Push.”

“Okay,” I said again, very uncleverly. What’s going on here? What exactly did Cato say?

Joe smirked; finally a flash of playfulness, that contagious light he was built of. He smoothed my hair with one feather-light stroke of his hand, touched his lips to my forehead. “Don’t be late to Chemistry. I can’t have you failing out.”

“Of course not. How would I be able to get my Marine Biology PhD from U Chicago?”

But Joe didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile; he just left.

Ben was hunched over our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom, his arms encircling his notebook, the pen in his hand scribbling frenziedly. The window was wide open; the rain outside had weakened to a docile drizzle. He was still wearing his sunglasses. He didn’t acknowledge me at all.

“Rough night?” I asked, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I definitely do not.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. Ben glanced up, his thick eyebrows raised; they peaked just above the rims of his opaque sunglasses. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

For a long time, Ben just looked at me; maybe wanting to say something, maybe just feeling that decorum necessitated it. “You shouldn’t be,” he replied at last. And he spent the rest of class paying no attention whatsoever to Professor Belvin’s lecture on the Pauli exclusion principle and instead scrawling untidy Welsh phrases into the formerly pristine pages of his notebook.

It was just after 5 p.m. when I arrived at La Push, the tires of my 1999 Honda Accord crunching over the gravel of the small parking area, the wind whipping ferociously. Joe had gotten there first; he was sitting on a rock down by the water with his back to me, peering out over the Pacific Ocean, tossing pebbles and shells into the waves. We had an hour of daylight left. The sky was obscure, grey, dim. Fine droplets of rain like mist sailed through the biting autumn air and clung to my skin.

When Joe spotted me, he leapt off the rock and watched me approach with his hands in the pockets of his North Face jacket. He wasn’t wearing anything Chicago-related today, which was highly unusual. I waited for him to touch me, to hold me, to tell me that everything was okay and always would be...at least for the next ten to fifteen years. He didn’t. “Hey,” he said instead.

“Hi.”

Joe nodded down the beach. “Let’s walk.”

I have never been especially good at mundane, monotonous rambling. That’s a Scorpio thing. And yet monotonous rambling is exactly what I did: I prattled on about my classes, Charlie’s bowling league, Renee’s new life in Florida with Paul, the ocean, the weather, anything to fill that space between us that all at once felt so enormously significant. I was vaguely aware that I was afraid to stop talking; I didn’t want Joe to have the chance to say whatever was on his mind.

Finally, Joe stopped walking. He took my hand, ran his thumb over the faint scar from when I accidentally cut myself in Mercy’s kitchen. His shoes sank into the wet sand, left imprints there like fingerprints. He turned to face me, pained, grave, and oh god, far worse: guilty.

“What?” I asked, terror swelling in my lungs, my bones, some inborn warning of impending ruin.

Joe gazed out over the crashing sea, then came back to me, like a dislocated joint popping back into place. “I am so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I...” He spoke slowly, haltingly. “I thought that this was something that was doable. But I was wrong.”

“What...?” And then a possibility occurred to me, a glorious possibility. Of course. A grin erupted across my face. “This is a joke, right? You’re joking, you’re always joking, this is just—”

He shook his head. He wasn’t joking. I wrenched my hand out of his and stared up at him in furious disbelief.

“It’s not fair to you,” Joe said. “This thing, being with someone like me. I can’t give you a future. I can’t give you an uncomplicated existence. I mean, come on, you have to worry about getting murdered around my own family—”

“Do you have fucking amnesia?” I demanded, incredulous. “Joe, we just talked about this. We just made plans to move to Chicago after graduation, we agreed that it was what we both wanted. I don’t want a normal human boyfriend. I don’t want normal human in-laws. I want you, Joe, and Ben, and Mercy and Gwil, and Rami and Lucy and Scarlett, I want the whole ridiculous Lee family package and there’s nothing you could say to make me decide that this isn’t worth it.”

“Look—”

“No, something happened, right? Something happened with Cato, or Ben, or someone, something happened and now you think that you have to do this but I’m telling you that whatever it is we can figure it out, we can figure it out together, isn’t that what you promised me?” He said he wouldn’t leave. He promised me he wouldn’t leave. All those things...all those things he said...

“Listen.” And now his eyes were stony. He didn’t call me Baby Swan. Oh, this is bad. This is so bad. “It’s not fair to me either.”

“And that’s what this is really about,” I realized. My voice was abruptly fierce, caustic. All those other women; those beautiful, graceful, immortal women. How did I ever think I could compare?

“It’s not personal.”

“It’s the most personal thing there is, Joe, it’s pasts and futures and love—”

“It’s not though.” He smiled, just barely. “Maybe we thought it was, but it’s not.”

It hit me like a brick, like a bullet; I couldn’t catch my breath. I was drowning in thin air, like a sawfish, like a shark. “Well I’m glad you figured that out on your own fucking schedule.”

“This was my fault,” he said. “All of it. And I am so profoundly sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, and I take full responsibility for it. I hope you’re able to move on knowing that there’s nothing you could have done differently. These are just the realities of my world. You’re better off in your own. And you’re going to make someone very happy someday.”

It's all so empty, so excruciatingly generic. “You’re a monster,” I seethed at him, tears stinging in my eyes.

“Yes,” Joe agreed softly.

“I hate you.” I wasn’t sure if I meant that, but I still said it. Maybe I could will it into being true, like how people find God after a particularly grim diagnosis; there’s no harm in trying to make it real. There’s nothing left to lose.

“That would be more than fair, given the circumstances,” he said. “I won’t bother you again. I’ll ask you to do the same for me.”

“Sure.” Tears were streaming down my cheeks now; my breaths were ragged, hitching. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from him.

A shadow of concern crossed his face, the first one I had noticed since yesterday afternoon. “If you need someone to drive you home, I’d be happy to—”

“I’d literally rather die.” And I left Joseph Francis Mazzello standing on the beach with the twilight wind in his hair and the sun setting behind him like time slipping through an hourglass.

I fled to my Honda, turned the keys in the ignition, covered my face with my hands and wept in raw, heaving shudders as Hungry Like The Wolf played from the mixtape that Joe had left in my cassette player. I ejected the mixtape, rolled down my window, tossed it out onto the rain-slick gravel. I couldn’t stand the thought of going home. Charlie would be at work until late tonight; Joe would never set foot in the house again.

I have to go somewhere. I can’t just sit in that goddamn bedroom. I can’t be alone.

I wheeled my car onto the main road and drove until I came to an unceremonious mechanic’s garage with a fractured concrete floor and cracks like spider legs across the windows. When I stepped out of my Honda, Archer raced over to meet me, beaming and wiping his hands clean with an oil rag.

“Hey, you know you’re not allowed to come here unless you bring Taco Bell with you...” Then he saw me, he really saw me. “Whoa, what—?”

And Archer caught me as I collapsed into his arms, sobs ripping through my throat like fangs.

Benjamin, 24 Hours Earlier

It was bad. Whatever this was, it was bad.

I knew because Rami could read Cato, and I could read Rami; the hazy wisps of color that unfurled from him were a hectic, wrestling electric blue: distress, grief, anxiety, denial. Cato’s own aura had always been rather unforthcoming—he tended towards deep, mellow greens and purples of congruence and contemplation—and forever tinted with an opalescent quality that spread like wildfire to the people around him, the people who were under his influence, that intangible calming and harmonizing effect, that irrational sense of wellbeing. Everyone in the room had that faint opalescence shimmering around them now, even Rami, whose unspoken turmoil remained a roiling rather than a storm. And I thought—not for the first time—that if Larkin was a spade that hollowed you out, scraped along the jagged snags of your split bones to empty you of any ambitions and loyalties that had come before, then Cato was the anesthetic that made the mangling go down smoother, the promise that you would someday still catch glimpses of innocence. Larkin was a purger, a purifier; Cato made you believe again.

There were pitchers of sweet tea and a heaping tray of butter pecan cookies on the living room coffee table. Cato sat on the neat white sofa, one leg crossed over the other, stoic, waiting. Rami stared vacantly from the loveseat; Lucy was beside him, her delicate bare feet tucked beneath her and her fingers laced through Rami’s, her brow knit into grooves of worry. Scarlett was next to me on the largest couch, her boots propped up on the edge of the coffee table, her hair in a long French braid, periodically cracking her knuckles. It was nearly the only sound. Mercy bustled around the room gifting everyone tall chilled glasses of sweet tea; Gwil stood by the virtual fireplace on the big-screen tv, his hands in his pockets, his lips pressed into a rigid line.

The front door opened, and Joe stepped inside, his car keys rattling in his fist. For as long as I’d known him, his color had so often been a bright and buttery yellow, his aura more visible and constant than anyone else’s. Lately, he was increasingly cloaked in the rosy pinks of love or the vivid, shifting, crimson reds of lust; and Rami and I bonded over our shared efforts to politely ignore that particular variety of thoughts.

Joe pointed to Cato. “What’s going on?”

“How long?” Cato asked him.

Joe feigned cluelessness. “Huh? What do you mean? Oh, car chick?! That’s nothing. She’s just a friend.”

Cato blinked. “Do you really think I just arrived in Forks today?”

It rolled through Joe like a wave: surrender, apprehension, dread. The realization that Cato had been watching us for days, weeks even, meticulously keeping just enough distance to stay out of Rami’s range of hearing. Joe’s now-opalescent aura dipped from cerise to an agitated mahogany. “Two months.”

“And she’s talented.” Cato’s voice was impatient, incredulous; How could you be this stupid? that voice said.

“No,” Joe flared, like shards of wood cracking in a fire. “No, she’s got nothing to do with you, with us. With our world. She’s got nothing to do with it.”

Cato circled the fingerprint of his index finger around the rim of his misted glass of sweet tea, meditative. “In one hundred and seventy years, I have never met someone who I couldn’t find if I wanted to. And yet the second I turned my back on that girl, she was gone. Vanished. The world was a blank map. How is that possible?”

No one said anything. Finally, Cato looked to Rami.

“You can’t hear her thoughts, can you?”

“No,” Rami admitted.

“And how many times has that happened in...how old are you now, the same as Ben? How many times in the past century have you met someone who made you feel normal, weak even? Who made you feel human again?”

“Never,” Rami conceded.

“You too, right?” Cato asked me. “You can’t see what she’s feeling. She’s nothing but white noise.”

I nodded reluctantly.

“She’s talented,” Cato said again, decisive.

“Oh god,” I choked out, burying my face in my hands. Now I knew what Rami had heard. I knew everything.

Joe shook his head almost violently. “No, that’s not fair. There’s no way of knowing if that would translate to life as a vampire or how it would manifest. There’s no way of knowing if she would survive the transition at all. And none of us are ever going to find out because she has nothing to do with our world.”

“She does,” Cato insisted. “Because you brought her into it.”

Scarlett shivered beside me, crossed her arms over her chest, clutched her leather jacket tighter. “You can’t be serious, Cato. You’re not a monster, you know she might not survive—”

“And that would stop Gwil. It would stop me, sure. When has it ever stopped Larkin?” Cato gestured to me. “With him? With me? With Akari or Araminta or Liesl or Rigel or all the ones who didn’t make it, who died screaming as they scorched from the inside out? It has never stopped him because he doesn’t care. He finds talented people. He covets them, covets them jealously, like jewels or money or lovers. And they either become one of his possessions or they become nothing at all.”

“No,” Joe whispered. “No, no, no...”

Rami was shrinking into the loveseat, overwhelmed by the emotions in the room that were dragging his aura into whirling greys, those desperate and dark thoughts; not even Cato could mute them entirely. Lucy tried to soothe him, laid the back of her fine-boned hand against his cheek. Mercy covered her gaping mouth. Gwil studied the floor, thunderstruck, absorbing it all.

“This is a courtesy that I’m doing you right now,” Cato told Joe, his large palms clasped together, his voice sorrowful and yet unyielding, almost pleading. “This is a warning. If he finds out about her, about what she can do...he’s going to want her. And he gets everything he wants.”

“He can’t find out,” Gwil said hoarsely.

“No,” I agreed. Death or a hundred-year sentence. Either way, a part of you dies. Either way, a part of you ends up in a box six feet underground and clawing for the sun.

“What can we do?” Scarlett asked Cato. “I mean...is there anything we can do?”

“You have to get rid of her. That’s her only chance. Get her out of your orbit, away from our world, away from where Larkin or anyone who serves him would ever cross her path. I won’t tell him about the girl. I’ll try to deflect his attention. If she’s already been spotted, I’ll tell him that she’s useless, just another one of Joe’s litany of casual liaisons. And that’s a risk I’ll take, I’ll do it out of respect for your coven, Dr. Lee, and for Ben. But there is absolutely nothing I can do for you if Larkin finds out for himself. I don’t think I’m the only one he has watching you.”

“Of course not,” I said bitterly. “I’m sure he has all sorts of eyes on me. The white whale. The one that got away.” This is my fault. It’s all my fucking fault.

“It’s not,” Rami murmured; and nobody else heard my side of it, but I think they understood.

Joe’s aura was now murky, sunless, almost black. It was a color I hadn’t thought he was capable of. His eyes were slick and bleary.

“Son?” Gwil prompted. Mercy was sobbing into a handkerchief patterned with roses. Mom, I ached instinctively, before pushing the thought away.

“I won’t do it,” Joe said. “You’re asking me to break her heart and I won’t do it.”

I begged: “Joe, you don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand! You don’t understand what this will do to her, what it’s going to do to her for the weeks and months and years that come after, she might never forget—”

“Do you want her to end up dead or in a hundred-year contract?” Cato shot back. “Do you want to see how much of that girl you care about so much is left after a century with Larkin?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on me. I could feel them, full of pity and horror. I’m what’s left. Someone gutted of everything but rage and bloodlust.

“No, of course not,” Joe said. Thanks a lot, brother.

Cato smirked without any humor at all. He had known. “Then the choice is easy.”

“Son,” Gwil said again.

Joe gazed back at him with huge, agonized eyes. His words were brittle, raspy, hollow. “Dad, I love her.”

“I know,” Gwil replied. His aura was a blue like cobalt: profound sympathy, compassion, mourning. “And that’s why you’ll do the right thing.”

Twenty minutes later, I was puffing on my vape pen as I paced back and forth across the wrap-around porch like a caged bear, watching the sun disappear behind the western hemlock trees that raked the clouds. Gwil, Rami, Lucy, and Scarlett were with Joe; Mercy was trying to convince Cato to stay the night in one of the guest bedrooms. I could hear her ludicrously gracious protestations through the walls. “We know it’s not your fault, dear, this...this...situation. We know you’re just the messenger. And you’ve been so important to Ben all these years, so kind. It’s really no trouble at all...here, let me at least wrap up some cake for you to take...”

The front door opened and closed. Scarlett appeared beside me, resting her forearms on the porch railing. She sighed, closed her eyes, said nothing.

“This is going to destroy him,” I told her.

Scarlett nodded, her face bathed in silvery moonlight, marvelous and yet forlorn. The aura that surrounded her was a deep, despondent indigo. It matched the sky. “Yeah.”

“And to think...” I exhaled heavily, nicotine-tinged vapor vanishing into the damp night air. Rain was coming; I could feel it in my bones. “I was just beginning to like it here.”

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hopefuljoon · 4 years

Text

BST: Chapter 4 - Golden Trio (past)

A/N: I love me some strong, independent MC who needs no man. You know that vine?

Tags: seriously some domesticity and fluffy shit, alcohol, physical violence, mention of a member's parent death, loneliness, pillow talk but not like that you dirty minded one, and whatever else I forgot to tag.

Word count: 4260...hope you don’t mind as I slowly increase it.

A few weeks have passed since their abrupt question of asking you to move in with them. You had given some thoughts as to what’s best for you and you decided that there shouldn’t be a problem if you wanted to move in with them. After all, no parental figure was there to convince you not to anyways. You texted Yoongi about it and told him of your worries. He dissolve your worries by telling you that you could just try to move in for a week and see how you like it as a ‘trial run’. You had agreed as you packed your bags for a week worth of clothes and a bit more.

There was never a dull moment in the house. The dinner that night to commemorate you moving in was memorable. The inner circle had smartly dressed in black suits and ties that were tailored for them with matching shoes. Their hair slicked back. You were dressed in a Gucci black bodycon with long sleeves that had an oval cut in the back. The cut so deep that it left nothing to the imagination. You took your time in curling the end strands of your hair as you let it fall while putting on a light hint of makeup. When you stepped out of your white 2019 Lamborghini Aventador S, the boys had wolf whistled and cat called you to which you only rolled your eyes as your cheek tinted pink. “Well, aren’t you looking like a full course meal tonight Y/n?” Tae teased as you narrowed your eyes at him. “I want her instead of the dinner that’s laid out on the table” Hoseok says with a dark look in his brown eyes before wiggling JK’s eyebrows suggestively as Tae nodded in agreement. You sighed before Yoongi told them to keep their dick down and mouth shut as they laughed, before you joined them, at the silliness of the situation. Yoongi came up to you with a hand extended outward, inviting you to take. He bends down to kiss your hand as you raised your eyebrows at his behavior before following the gentle tug of him pulling you inside. The dinner was a full on feast filled with appetizers, 2 main dishes and a side of dessert with wine that everyone liked.

The dinner was delicious as time flew by in a flash. It was getting late into the night as everyone helped with cleaning up before dispersing to their respective room.

That night, Jimin had asked to sleep with you having felt a little bit of a buzz from the alcohol. Of course you can’t say no when he gives you puppy eyes while the other members protested. Having known them for so long and all of your friendship with theirs felt so effortless as you bask in each other’s company. Their opinion reasoning that she should have her own space since she just moved in, and to treat her with a little more respect but you just laughed. It’s endearing as you mused, noticing the reason is mainly because they’re jealous at not having been the first to make the move. “I’m here for a week as a trial run and there’s 7 of you so relax” you laughed airly as they sighed before accepting with a shrug, leaving the kitchen to ascend the stairs that reached into their respective quarter aka ‘house’. Despite them calling it a ‘house’, it’s more like a floor filled with 9 bedrooms to which each has its own walk in closet, a full spacious shower, working desk with fancy desktops and sofas. All with a view of the calming sea as moonlight reflected into their room. The members all painted and redecorated their room to fit their own taste.

He’s always been the shy and quiet type when it comes to crushes and love. Of course nothing sexual happened as you showered and changed before walking back into the bedroom. It’s way too soon for that. By the time you came out, he already went to shower in his quarter and had changed, sitting on the bed watching the news in his navy blue cotton pajamas littered with tiny stars and a half moon as he waited for you. You edged closer to the bed before taking your grey bunny slipper off before sliding in. The bed dips as Jimin turns to look at you, smiling to the brim as his eyes sparkle in adoration at you. He laid down on the other pillow as you stared into each other’s eyes. “Yoongi told me a little bit about you and I did some digging. I’m sorry about your parents and what you saw” his voice laced with sadness as he looked into your eyes. You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding as you told him that it was ok, a nightmare is just a nightmare. “I know it is but it’s the reason why you’re afraid to love anyone anymore, right? I understand it, I was in your shoes too except mine was forcibly taken away when I was only 4” he sighs as your eyes widened before you apologize to him to which he only told you that you shouldn’t since it’s not your fault. “I never saw them again, I figured they die but I guess it was to protect me since no one ever came to hunt me down. I met Yoongi when I was entering high school and we became best friends. He stood up for me when I was being bullied. After that, he took me back home here and taught me how to use a gun and to defend myself. He saw that I had potential and trained me for a while and offered me to join him in the underground gang scene. Of course, I was shocked about finding out he was the leader but I owed him my life so I signed on” you nodded warily as sleep threatened to consume you. The TV was long forgotten as the white noise became part of the background. “You’re so brave baby, you always have been. Thank you for sharing and wanting to understand me. I’ll always be here for you, and so will the boys” you reply. Jimin wonders if you’ve noticed the pet name you just used carelessly but he doubts it from the way you’re yawning as you continued, “I’ve always been alone. Despite being the top student, I never cared enough to make friends. People always use me to help them but want nothing more than that. It’s tiring when I put in work to not have it paid off because I misread the wants of the other party thinking they wanted my friendship. I have you guys now though. You’re like a family to me, filling in the hole that I’ve had ever since that night. Thank you. I promise to make myself useful at least to contribute to the gang” you mumble sleepily before noticing his eyebrows scrunching together. “You don’t have to, we don’t want you to participate in this. We just want to protect you since you got yourself involved with dangerous men like us” he says before you smartly replied, “I want to. I’m doing my part to protect my family. I’m not like before anymore where I couldn’t do anything as I helplessly watched those I love murdered in front of me until I ran away in cowardice” you angrily say. He sigh loudly before nodding as he scooted closer to drape his arm over your form. He noticed the way you flinch before relaxing in his hold as fatigued lulled you to sleep. He gave you feathery light kisses to your forehead before leaning back to let sleep overtake him.

You woke up with the sound of fast rapping against the wooden door before it creaked open slightly as Jungkook’s head popped in. Jimin was still sound asleep, nuzzling into your form for warmth as you rub his back soothingly. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything but Seokjin hyung asked if you wanted to help him make breakfast for everyone” he says quickly as he takes note of the way Jimin’s face is nearly in your blossom and your night dress hanging unfashionably low. You giggled slightly having noticed the boy’s flushed face as you realize it came from your state of your unkempt manner of dress. “Tell him I’ll be there in 5 minutes” you tease with a wiggle of your eyebrows before he quickly shuffles out of the room.

“Jiminie, I have to go and help Seokjinnie make everyone’s breakfast” you coo gently before you feel his hold tightened around your waist. He groans before muffling out, “10 more minutes”. You laughed before telling him you just promised Seokjin you’d go help in 5 minutes as you run your hand through his soft bedhead to sooth it down before he releases you. “Fine” he pouted before letting you get up and out of the bed. You kissed him gently on the cheek in apology as you got out of bed.

You descended the stairs in your pajamas as you turned left towards the kitchen to see Seokjin in his apron with a silver mixing bowl in hand, mixing away at the pancake ingredient. You’ve always been one to show your love and appreciation through skinship as you approached him quietly before hugging him from behind, resting your cheek on his back. He yelps and jumps at the contact before looking behind him at your giggling form. “Aish, you could’ve just told me. No need to sneak in so quietly kitten” he says before going back to pour the mixture into a circle on the electric stove. You move to help him make more pancakes as you plated the ones that were finished, decorating them with whipped cream, blueberries, raspberry and strawberry with a sprinkle of white powdered sugar as a finishing touch.

Yoongi and the consigliere slowly filed into the room and sat down at their dining table, looking as ruffled up by sleep as can be. You made a circle around the table as you put their plates down as they thanked you.

“Today’s training day. Jungkook’s taking the lead till lunch. We take a break after that then we head to the shooting range. I better not see missed marks or else” Yoongi coldly says before everyone nodded along. “Aren’t I always hitting the target? Shouldn’t you be targeting a specific person who doesn’t?” Jungkook pipes in with one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Shut it kid or I’ll put you to work more than you can chew off” Namjoon glares before everyone laughs. They respected Yoongi, he was their leader after all even if some of them have a sharp tongue to send sly replies to their leader sometimes. “Can I come with or am I supposed to stay here at home?” you ask as you tilt your head sideway. No one misses the way you call the estate as ‘home’ despite having lived here for a few days. “You can come if you can handle seeing guns and these idiots getting beaten up” he says with a smirk as you nodded before sending a smile of your own back to him.

Field day is what the members called it. Some lower members of the gang were called to train as well. It was more of a battle tier tournament starting from the lowest member present up until it was the inner circle against one another. The fight was determined by whoever touches the ground first with any part of their body, be it butt, head, back or knee, is the loser. Whoever reigns champion from the tournament would then face Jungkook, the lead trainer and the ever perfectionist. Everyone except the inner members were rusty, it’s been awhile since they’ve fought in hand to hand combat. They have no real reason to since no new gangs have risen up to challenge Yeonson since Yoongi took reign. The ‘tournament’ goes on for nearly 2 hours before it came down to Jin vs Hoseok as Hoseok dominates. Jin has always been a soft giant. He went on to go against Namjoon who easily let him win. Namjoon doesn’t prefer to attack physically, rather psychologically and emotionally. It was Hoseok against Yoongi next as Yoongi bested him, though the reason might be because he’s tired and sore from 2 previous battles. Tae went up against Yoongi as he won. Yoongi only nodded approvingly, accepting the defeat with honor as he recognized the reason why he picked Tae as second in command of the enforcer department. Jimin who slightly beat Tae reign out because he had played dirty to make Tae slip. Everyone was treated to their bruises and cuts accordingly by Jin and a little bit of help from you who was by his side to help sooth the ego of their inner members. They mostly whined more to gain your attention so you comforted them and reminded them of their worth despite their losses.

It’s the final battle to which everyone truly looks forward to as Jungkook steps in to face Jimin. “Aren’t you looking like a beaten up kitten?” Jungkook taunt before Jimin spits onto the ground angrily replying, “‘m not a kitten”. “Maybe not but you surely are feisty like one” he teases as he lunged for Jimin. Jimin dodges as Jungkook jumps forward with a kick as Jimin blocks with an “X” stance. The fight continues before Jimin pants tiredly as Jungkook only fixes his gaze on him before attacking again.

“Stop them Yoongi, I don’t want Jimin to get hurt” you plead as you walk closer to Yoongi to sit down next to him. He raises his eyebrows at you, “that’s not how it works. One has to reign and one has to lose. This is normal y/n, it’s how life goes. Besides, why suddenly wanting to save Jimin?” he says before turning his gaze back to the battle. “Nothing, I’m just worried for him is all. Should I go out there and show you what I got up my sleeves too?” you mused out loud before Yoongi snapped his head to look at you so fast that you were sure he must have broken a bone or snapped his muscles. “What? You’ve been in a fight before? Who trained you? Jungkook is a different specimen when he’s on the field. You don’t wanna mess with him” yoongi comments drly in fear of you getting hurt, it’s the last thing he wants really. “Maybe you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover Yoongi. My parents had trained me to fight since I was little. They knew that their line of business often puts me in danger. Give me some credits, won't you? Let me show you..Oh and tell Jungkook to not go easy on me because I’m your guest and i’m a woman” you sneered before turning to walk away towards the changing room. You knew you didn’t have the rights to get angry at his sudden assumption. He was only just trying to protect you. You changed into a loose black shirt and black Adidas sweats as you walked out. The battle between Jimin and Kook was long over with Kook reigning as always.

The metallic scent of blood fills the surrounding as you intake air to calm yourself. You’re not one to use brute force to win but to use your brain as an advantage. When you were little, your family had put you through Taekwondo and you finished with a black belt. No one knows that of course except your family who aren’t here anymore. Your brain and calculation had always been the prize possession as your father had always reminded you. He knew of your potentials, forded the endless possibilities and steered you into the right direction to put forth those advantages.

You walked towards where Jungkook is waiting in the middle of the ring with heavy hooded eyes. “Yoongi told you everything I asked?” you glance up at him and he only nodded. “Are you sure about this? I really hate to hurt you and for you to blame it on me later” he says as you grabbed your stomach and laughed. “Blame you? I initiated this challenge myself. I might be rusty but I’ll get back on my feet faster than you can blink little bunny” you smirk before noticing Jungkook demeanor change entirely. You’ve always had a running joke with him because of his doe eyes and cute face like that of a bunny. He hates it but only let you call him that. Anyone else tries and he’ll fight them head on without mercy. “Alright then princess, I won’t hold back. Show me what you got” he says before licking his lips to stare down at you like a predator stalking its prey.

You held your stance before Jungkook makes the first move. You already saw it coming, the way his legs shifted slowly as it raised itself from the ground had you easily dodging him. “Not bad, but you need to be faster than that to beat me” you say as you lunge forward with your hand, landing a square punch against his stomach. He tumbles back on his feet with an “oomf” spilling from his mouth. You can feel the 5 other pairs of eyes on you as your gaze shifted to your new family, watching you intently, ready to jump into the ring at any moment's notice. You hear something shift before a flash of black disappear as you noticed Jungkook went behind you. He landed a kick against your back as you tumblr slightly while making cartwheels to get away from him. You spun and held your stance as you growl and lunged at him, relentless in your triple kicks knowing one would hit. Your calculations weren’t wrong as he fell back but grabbed your leg that was in the air and twisted. The impact made you fall as you pushed back onto your palm to spin your foot back and out of his grasp. You were mistaken, for the first time in a long while as his grip tightened before dragging you to steady himself. You try to clutch at the dirt below but it was of hot use. With your other freed leg, you kicked at the hand that held your other leg hostage before he lets go as you twisted and jumped up to a stand. The fight continued as you lunges at him again until the both of you heavedfor air. Your eyes burned into his as he meets you with the same energy.

“Stop!” you hear Yoongi says as both of you walked closer to each other. The distance so close you can feel his heavy breathing on you as you look up at his sparkling eyes and bright bunny smile before turning to Yoongi with a conk of your head in question as to why he stopped you.

The rest of his inner circle ran towards you with him trailing behind in a walk. “Kitten, you surprised me! You never told me you could fight” jin says as he applauded you. “You even held out against Jungkookie, where did you learn all of this from? Care to share your secrets?” Namjoon bugs in as you wiped the sweat from your forehead and laughed. “My mother taught me the majority of it. I thought you guys dug up my history, didn’t you know I finished with a black belt?” you ask, eyes tinkling with amusement. “Now, I see...but baby girl, we can’t be together if you’re that much better than me” Tae teases as you smacked his bicep slightly. “In comparison to pure strength, I’m definitely not going to be able to hold out against Jungkook or any of you for that matter. My secret is up here, the master plan that notice and guess your moves before you even make them. Of course, it took me years to figure it out and a ton of experience of getting beaten up to learn” you point to the side of your head as an emphasis before rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “Ah, so you prefer the combination of physical but also mental state. Well, my love we’re going to get along just fine together” Namjoon comments before he gives you a pat on the head. Your smile curved into a smirk as you look back up at Namjoon. A fellow master of the dark side of the mind.

“I’m sorry I judged you but I know what Jungkook is capable of. I didn’t want him to hurt you or mentally strain you in any ways. Maybe we should talk over lunch to discuss more” Yoongi walks closer to you and looks at you wearily.

The 8 of you re-entered the house as the maids had already prepared your meal, jajangmyeon with pork and tofu soup on the side for healing purposes. “You never told me what each role you guys hold in the gang” you ponder as you take a seat that Tae had pulled out for you. “Well, I’ll start. I’m the head trainer as you just saw today. As a result, I’m also the head enforcer of the group. Pros of being good at physical fights I guess”, Jungkook says. “I’m the medic but you probably already know that. It’s a good thing after you graduate from medical school that you can be the head of the department officially instead. I just finished nursing school really”, Jin says before turning to look at you with a kind smile before sending you a flying kiss to which you laugh and roll your eyes at. “You have more experience than me Seokjinnie so you’ll always lead, I’m just the lead in names only but behind the truth of it all, you’re much versed in this field than me. Don't belittle yourself too much either, nursing school is another achievement all of its own! You should be proud.

“you say softly before acknowledging him again. You already know Yoongi is the leader but he tells you anyways, “I’m relatively good at everything these guys can do. Just a requirement of a leader to care for his gang a bit”. “Well, Jagi, I’m the info trader but I’m also an enforcer. Did you know the more a person talks, the chances of them accidentally spilling some tea and gossip is higher? It’s been scientifically proven you know!” Tae says with his boxy smile before showing his white flashing teeth. They look like canine teeth more than human teeth though. “I’m the head info, I deal with statistics of our drug and shipment. I’m also the engineer of the group, meaning I can break into any security camera in a breath. I also set up the lights and security camera in this house” Hosek says proudly before clapping his hands together in delight. “Well...I’m the weapon specialist but also getaway driver. My tools are just tools though, I prefer to get what I want through a bit of torture and bloodshed” as Jimin glances at you, eyes as cold as a creature of the night. You nodded nervously and coughed before Jimin laughs and tells you he’s joking. “I prefer to deal with the physiological aspect of it all since I’m not well versed with the physical state which makes me the best candidate for dealmaker. I’m the upfront image of Yeonson” he huff as he stares up at the ceiling, musing to himself if he missed anything else. “He’s also my second in command, in the case anything ever happens to me” Yoongi state matter-of-factly. “Ah yes, I forgot to mention that” Namjoon says before flashing you a dimpled grin.

“Nice, each of you have your own strengths and weaknesses. I’m sorry I wish I could be of more help.I truly never got into the affairs of my parent’s” you say apologetically as all of them reassure you that it was fine and they weren’t expecting you to do anything for the gang. “No, that’s not what I was trying to get at. When I graduate, I’ll become the head medic of course. I’ll also have you know, I graduated top of my computer science minor as well. I might even rival Hobi in hacking and engineering. I enjoy tinkering with small things like bugs and viruses most though”, you say as you look down at the now empty plate before you. “Well, aren’t you just good at everything eh? Guess we got 3 ‘goldens’”, Yoongi says as he raises his eyebrows in question. “What do you mean ‘goldens’?” confusion lined your face as you asked. “Well, Hoseok and Jungkook are often good at everything so they’ve been dubbed the ‘golden duo’. You’ve been added to that so now it’s a trio. Don’t disappoint me and show me your potential sweetheart” Yoongi eyes you softly before getting up to head for his room.

The rest of the members cleaned up as they headed out of the kitchen. It’s been a long day and everyone is relatively sore from the beating they’ve taken. “A nap is due for us all, an hour to rest then we head to the shooting range for practice, got it?” he yells out to the house and everyone replied with a “yes boss”.

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#bts #bts fluff #bts mafia au #bts poly au #bts smut #polyamory bts #polyamory #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #park jimin

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talesfromthepayload · 4 years

Text

The Fall Part Two

A/N: Did I get totally distracted and let this take over my life? Yes, I did. Do I regret it? Only a little bit. Also, the reader’s intended age for the purpose of this fic is 23 at the start. (So yeah, there’s a bit of an age difference, but this is also me being entirely self indulgent.) This chapter is kind of heavily focused on Gabriel, but don’t worry the other two will be very involved coming up.

Gabriel Reyes did not make decisions lightly.

Despite the fact that they seemed often impulsive or lacking certain forethought, he knew what he was doing, and he was confident doing it. Hiring you was not a mistake.

Jack had called him and Gérard in a few days prior to discuss your onboarding. He, too, had been intrigued by what you had to offer, but he’d been hesitant. They’d found an issue while reviewing your history, and it’d become clear that your file had been tampered with. If Gabriel had to wager a guess, he’d say you did it.

So, Jack hesitated. He wanted to dig around more, try and see why it needed to be tampered with to begin with. But Gabriel wasn’t going to let your potential go. He needed Blackwatch agents, had for a while, but those with the potential were few and far between.

He knew Jack was going to be pissed when he realized what he’d done, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to be sorry. His intuition hasn’t failed him yet.

He leaned back with his feet on his desk, watching the security feed. He didn’t give you any information, a final test to see if you were as good as he thought you were.

Genji and McCree had tried to convince him to spar this morning, but he wasn’t passing up the opportunity of watching you walk through those doors.

It was seven o’clock on the dot when he saw your familiar figure. You were dressed in all black, a jumpsuit tailored specifically to that suit of armor you had built it seemed. It clung to you like a second skin, and had a deep v-neck in the front. There was a briefcase in one hand that helped you blend in with some of the higher ups.

Reyes knew the minute he saw you he was going to have one hell of a time keeping McCree away. The boy flirted with anything with a pulse. You were young, far too young for any of them to be looking at you, and pretty.

Maybe he was being selfish by bringing you to Blackwatch. They were all jaded and scarred, and you looked like you’d fit perfectly in Angela’s Valkyrie suit.

Still, a certain amount of pride swelled in his chest as he watched you navigate through the wide expanse of the Swiss base. There was no hiccup in your step, nothing suggesting you were anywhere you shouldn’t be.

You were even swiping into rooms that should’ve been entirely out of access for you, yet that didn’t stop you. It was mesmerizing, to be quite honest, the way you walked through crowds like you had every right to be there.

You didn’t stop until you were in the hallway outside of his office, and he sat up straighter to greet you. However, you paused, taking a moment to look up at the camera. Your eyes met his through the screen, and there was a pleased smile on your lips.

He echoed the gesture, letting out a few breathy laughs, before a knock sounded at his door. You didn’t wait for him to answer, instead walking through the threshold with the same confidence you had throughout the base.

“You need better security,” you commented.

Gabriel walked around his desk so that there was nothing but a few feet of air between the both of you.

“There are very few people who could do what you just did,” he said, shrugging one shoulder.

Your lips were pulled in amusement but you didn’t offer anything more on the subject. You laid your briefcase to rest nearby, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was in there or if it was just for show.

“Blackwatch, huh?” Your eyes darted around the room before they settled on him.

He found himself unconsciously standing straighter and puffing his chest out.

“Overwatch didn’t strike me as the type to have secret divisions,” you admitted, taking a few steps closer to him. “And boy do you get into some trouble.”

There was something distinctly playful in your gaze, and Gabriel thought it was more charming than anything. He’d never been a stickler for the rules like Jack, thus his relationship with the agents under him was a little more lax. You were blatantly flirting though, and he found it absolutely amusing.

He realized right then and there that putting you and McCree in the same room was a recipe for disaster.

“I’d say you do too, but I can’t be sure with that fake file you sent us.”

It was a callout- a challenge, really, and boy did you rise to it.

“We all have secrets, Gabriel,” you shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing to the door. “Like hiring me without consulting the Strike Commander.”

As if on queue, Jack shoved the door out of his way. Ana was close on his heels, like she was trying to temper the storm. Genji had followed them in, obviously drawn to the commotion. Gabriel knew that McCree had wandered off, not bothering to stick around if he didn’t need to. You had a quirked brow, and despite the anger of his oldest friend, he couldn’t be drawn away from the small smirk on your lips.

“Gabriel I told you to-”

He stopped short, his loud voice deafening instantly as he noticed your presence.

He was taken aback, just for a moment, though Gabriel recognized the look in Jack’s eyes. Yeah, he may have also wanted you on Blackwatch because he knew that Jack had a type, and you were most definitely his type. Intelligent, good looking, quick witted, and frustratingly optimistic- he knew that, even if it was done unconsciously, Jack would want you under his command because of it. That and the fact that he’d seen Jack spend hours reading about the work you’d done like it was the damn gospel.

“Don’t stop on my account,” you giggled, holding your hands up in surrender.

The Strike Commander blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Ana cleared her throat, shooing away Genji and shutting the door behind him, leaving the four of you alone in his office. The anger on Jack’s face was lessening, and his exterior was becoming more fitting of his title.

“Apologies, I didn’t realize you were here already.” His voice was tight, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Gabriel was leaning back, looking for all the world like he could care less about what was transpiring. In reality, he was very interested in how the esteemed Strike Commander would act.

“I figured,” you nodded your head in Gabriel’s direction, “Someone’s not very forthcoming with information.”

His expression didn’t show an ounce of regret. If anything, his lack of telling you important information further proved how much his team could use you.

Jack bit his tongue, and Ana piped up to fill the silence.

“You know, Jack, I think Gabriel might be right on this one.”

You sent a warm look towards Ana, and it brought a smile to his face. Ana had always had a motherly attitude about her, it made people gravitate towards her.

“I know,” Jack sighed, running a hand through his blonde- slightly greying- hair, before holding it out to you.

You took it without hesitation, shaking firmly.

“I’m Jack Morrison,” he introduced himself, gesturing to the woman behind him. “This is Captain Ana Amari, though I’ve heard you’ve already met. And that is-”

“We’ve had introductions already,” Gabriel assured him, unable to help but add on: “I hope Genji didn’t make too much of a mess.”

You shrugged, walking past him with the same confidence you had making your way there in the first place.

“I figured now that we’re all friendly we can talk about my stolen research.”

You didn’t waste any time. Gabriel moved to watch from over your shoulder when you started typing on his computer. He was a bit miffed you hadn’t even asked him, but thoroughly impressed when three beeps sounded, alerting to the others in the room that you had successfully logged on.

“What was the research on?” Jack asked. “I’ve been reviewing your other projects, but I’m assuming you kept the one Talon stole private.”

“You assume correctly,” you smiled, looking up to shoot him a wink before going back to whatever it was you were doing.

Gabriel didn’t miss the small blush that colored Jack’s cheeks.

“IPI,” you said, pressing a couple of buttons on your watch. “Access file 07129.”

“Accessing,” a robotic voice replied.

You pinched your fingers together above your watch, before expanding them. As you did so, a holographic projection jumped to life around you. Gabriel couldn’t be too sure of what he was looking at, but it resembled the watch you wore around your wrist.

“What is it?” He finally questioned.

You puffed out a breath.

“Well, it was the first trial of my experiment.” You explained, spinning the hologram so that they could see all of the angles. “When I was a kid I wanted to save my mom. There wasn’t anything I could do realistically, so I started looking at the impossible.”

You came around Gabriel’s desk to lean gently against the front.

“Two years ago I had my first major breakthrough with temporal manipulation. I used chronal acceleration to propel an object forward in time, though just by a few seconds.”

You fiddled with your watch.

“Further experimentation and research brought me to a final conclusion. Three weeks ago I solved the mystery of time travel.”

Whatever Gabriel had been expecting, it had not been that. It didn’t sound real. There was no way somebody could just travel through time, was there?

“It took a lot of time. I had to input different equations and study the theory itself, but if they decode my work they’re going to have a fully fledged time machine on their hands and the whole of history to mess with.”

The friends shot each other looks as the room petered off into quiet once more. There was an uneasy air about, and Gabriel shifted his stance.

“Let’s get to work finding it then,” Jack finally stated, a hand moving towards the communicator by his ear.

You didn’t give him a chance to continue.

“Already done,” you exclaimed. “Atleast, potential hits.”

You fiddled with the holographic interface in front of you, lines of code swirling around your person.

“I’ve cross referenced the file number I originally gave the design through every major international database, as well as a few minor ones that have had previous ties to Talon. Most of the searches came up empty, but I did find a repeat of the word ‘chronos’ in the few encryptions I could find.”

“So they named it,” Reyes realized.

The grin you gave him was dazzling and wide.

“Project chronos got a lot more hits, though the information was scattered. You see, Talon doesn’t use its own mainframe for most of their work. They encrypt data into other locations and spread them out at seemingly random, so it’s difficult to follow.”

“But you followed it?” Jack inquired, a small smile tugging on his lips. It was obvious he was more than impressed.

“Sort of,” you conceded, “Like I said, it’s exceedingly difficult to track, but I managed to narrow down the locations.”

Jack and Ana shared a look, before he leveled you with that proud commander smile he’d nearly perfected.

“Good work, soldier. Send the coordinates and we’ll get recon teams there as soon as possible.”

With a swipe of your hand, the holographic images disappeared.

“Better yet, I’ll bring you there.”

Gabriel frowned at the sudden fall in Jack’s expression. He knew that Jack wouldn’t be letting you out into the field anytime soon. It wasn’t protocol, and Jack had enough people breathing down his neck.

“You still have to finish your basic training,” Ana said softly, taking a step forward.

You furrowed your brows.

“I can finish it later.” You assured them. “This is a hell of a lot more pressing.”

Jack shook his head, trying for a more gentle approach.

“We can’t let agents into the field who haven’t finished their initial training.”

“But this is my research…”

Your eyes were pleading with the two of them. Ana looked stern, but Jack couldn’t maintain eye contact. It was clear he wanted you on the mission too, if only because you knew what you were doing.

“We’ll send a recon team, and if you finish your basic training quickly enough, you can be a part of the strike team.”

Gabriel made the decision for them, and though you didn’t seem entirely satisfied, the answer still had you nodding. Jack gave him a look, one that told him they’d be having a long discussion later on, and turned his attention back to you.

“You’ll be reporting to me for your training.”

Gabriel wondered why he was keen on training you himself. He didn’t personally train recruits anymore- hadn’t for a while.

“As for Blackwatch,” Jack leveled Gabriel with a hard stare. “Gabriel will handle any additional training.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, letting the man know he understood. Jack was leaving your combat skills mostly to Gabriel.

Jack turned his back to where you stood, effectively ending the conversation. He only made it as far as the door before he stopped himself short.

“I did want to ask,” he began, “Why the fake documents?”

One hip was propped forward, and you looked as comfortable as could be. Your smile was a fair bit mischievous as you stretched languidly.

“I can’t show my hand before you’ve shown yours.”

Ana hid her smirk.

“Right,” Morrison affirmed, stomping away with the same confidence and authority he always wielded.

Ana was quick to follow, though her steps were quieter.

A tenseness settled in the air with them gone, and Gabriel didn’t dare to be the first to interrupt it. You were idly tapping your fingers on his desk, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, after a few moments, you pulled yourself from your own thoughts.

“So,” you drawled, siddling on up to him with your brightest, most friendly smile. “When’s the tour?”

Gabriel fought the twitch of his lips, instead giving you a deadpan look.

“Training starts now.”

It was a statement you barely had time to register before his fist was flying out. You dodged it narrowly, taking a few steps back to find a proper fighting stance.

“You sure are violent,” you muttered.

He didn’t offer a verbal response, instead going for a second strike. When you moved to avoid the attack, he changed tactics last minute, forcing you to the ground. The floor was cold and hard, leaving your back arched at the sudden sensation.

“Okay, not cool.”

“Sloppy,” Gabriel tsked from above, looking like he put no effort into taking you down.

The anger that morphed onto your face reminded him of a cat getting ready to retract its claws. Cute was a word that came to mind, though he didn’t dare say it out loud for fear of pissing you off more.

You rolled out of his reach before jumping back to your feet. Your movements were quick, but unpracticed. You definitely would be able to hold your own against your regular run of the mill civilians, but he was sure you’d need far more practice before you could start taking on fully trained soldiers.

Your eyes were calculating, and he found it a bit unnerving how you seemed to be reading him. From what he’d seen already, and what he’d found in your file, you were a genius. God only knows what you’d found on him already.

He didn’t move a muscle as you approached slowly, cautiously. His stance was firm, and he was ready to go back on the offensive should you decide for an impromptu attack. Still, he watched your body grow closer with a raised brow. Your movements were poised, an elegance not suited for a soldier.

His heart thumping wildly in his chest was the only noise as you leaned up to your tiptoes, keeping less than an inch away from his body. His fingers twitched, and he was idly aware of just how pretty you were. Dangerous was the word his mind supplied. Too pretty and young to keep his mind on more pure thoughts, and it had been so very long since he’d given into more carnal desires.

“You lose,” you whispered, the words kissing his ear, forcing a shiver down his spine.

Your proximity stuttered his system, and it took far longer than normal for him to realize what you’d said.

A questioning hum vibrated in his chest.

You pulled back the smallest bit, a wicked smile on your glossy lips that spoke of a danger he didn’t dare name. Being the devilish little thing you were, you winked, and nodded your head to something just behind him.

He tore his eyes from you, only to be met with the glowing stare of your suit of armor. It had the arm raised, the repulsor beam charged and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. How it’d managed to sneak up on him, he couldn’t be sure, but a frown pulled at his lips.

“That’s cheating.”

His voice was low enough to be a growl. He hoped you could hear the disappointment in it. (Though, if he were being completely honest, he was more disappointed in himself.)

You laughed, a light, melodic sound compared to the normal gruff voices that lingered through the halls of Blackwatch.

“Well, this is not what I expected,” a voice drawled lazily from the doorway.

Gabriel wanted to curse at McCree, but he held his tongue and glared at him instead.

“I think Clint Eastwood got lost,” you mock whispered to the commander.

His frown deepened in an effort to avoid smiling. You either didn’t notice or didn’t care, moving away to properly greet the new arrival.

“Jesse McCree,” Jesse tipped his hat, all charming smiles and vexatious eyes. Even the introduction of his name was a flirt.

“(Y/N),” you replied in kind, and Gabriel didn’t care for the way your name rolled from your tongue. It had far too many implications for one word.

“Pleasure, darlin’.” His voice was smoother than honey.

Gabriel cleared his throat, hoping to draw some attention away from the flirty cowboy and back to the mission at hand.

“I don’t doubt it,” you chuckled gently, eying him up and down before you turned back towards the commander.

“Don’t you have a sparring session to finish, McCree?” The commander bit out, crossing his arms over his chest.

His expression was nothing but intimidation, and the cowboy didn’t look the slightest bit perturbed.

“I was looking for something more interesting to do,” he explained with a shrug. “Looks like I found her.”

You puffed out a breath.

“That one usually work for you?”

“McCree,” Gabriel’s voice was venomous, and despite the cool facade on the younger agent’s face, he knew when pushing his commander was taken too far.

“Right,” Jesse inclined his head, “I’ll be off, but feel free to visit me anytime, sweetheart.”

Gabriel didn’t care to hide the annoyance on his features at the smile you had on yours. Despite McCree’s swift exit, you hadn’t made an effort to turn from where he was standing.

“You sure do have some characters,” you finally said, breaking the silence.

Gabriel blamed his anger on the interruption and useless chatter. Though, maybe it was because of the way your attention shifted so easily to whoever demanded it.

“The suit,” he gruffed, throwing an accusatory thumb to where it stood ready for an attack behind him.

The gun metal grey exterior was sleek, and the body looked almost identical to an outline of your own. Blue lights lined the feet and arms, and despite the flashy look, he knew they held purpose. Clearly, this could house you if you so chose it to.

“The original,” you said, pressing something on the screen of your watch.

The suit operated almost like an omnic would, though he knew there was no consciousness about it. The lights flickered off, and he watched with interest as the suit disassembled itself, until nothing was left but an unsuspecting briefcase. If he hadn’t witnessed it with his own eyes, he probably wouldn’t have believed it.

“It’s not as high tech as the newer models, but it certainly does in a pinch.”

“And you made that?” He asked for confirmation, in genuine awe of your capabilities.

“Nearly eighteen months ago now,” you smiled, though unlike the teasing or mischievous ones, this one was genuine. “If you think that’s cool wait until you see the rest of them.”

He nodded his head in the direction of the door.

“I think it’s time I take you on that tour,” he declared, picking the briefcase off the ground and handing it back to you. “There’s a few people you might be interested in meeting, and a few places I think you’ll enjoy.”

Your fingers brushed his as you took a hold of your briefcase. The contact was fleeting, but warm.

“Lead the way.”

#gabriel reyes x reader #jack morrison x reader #jesse mccree x reader #soldier 76 x reader #reaper x reader #mccree x reader #jesse mccree imagine #soldier 76 imagine #reaper imagine #overwatch x reader #overwatch imagine

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 40 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Happy Halloween, and welcome to Chapter 40! Only 82802291 to go! (JK…kind of.) Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet and Sutan made things official.

This Chapter: All of New York’s fashion elite shows up to Heidi’s Klum’s annual Halloween party. (Seriously. Everyone is in this chapter.)

***

“Go a little higher-” Katya was cut off as the door to Pearl’s room opened.

“Urgh!” Pearl looked up, a mess of grey spiderweb in her long blonde hair and on her hands where she had raised them to protect her face when she had left her room. “What the fuck!”

“Whoops.” Trixie grinned, the cobweb shooter he had been using to decorate in hand.

“Hi Pearl.” Max smiled, waving his hand from where he was standing next to Katya, holding up the string of lights they were attempting to mount on the wall.

“Sorry!” Katya laughed. “I didn’t know you were in there.”

“How does that make this better?” Pearl groaned, peeling the sticky web off of her hands. “I was just taking a nap.”

“We’re very sorry Pearlie girl.” Trixie smiled, reaching out to gently get the web in her hair.

“What are you even doing?”

“It’s a haunted house!” Katya gestured, Halloween decorations covering almost every visible surface. Katya loved Halloween, being allowed to scare her first graders something she looked forward to every year. Over the weekend, Trixie had been working on his own costume when they had started talking about making a miniature haunted house, and it had quickly snowballed into a giant craft project taking over the entire apartment.

There weren’t a lot of kids around them, but the few that had all figured out that Katya and Trixie gave out full sized candy bars for Halloween. And while Katya loved seeing all the little faces light up in delight as she dumped candy into their buckets, the idea of scaring the bejesus out of them first was extremely exciting.

“You’re not planning to use my bedroom for this extravaganza, are you?” Pearl asked skeptically.

“No, don’t worry! We were thinking that we’d cover your doorway in spiders and spiderwebs and have freaky lights and spooky sounds coming from inside.”

“It felt fitting,” Trixie added with a laugh.

“Do you want to help?” Max smiled. He had originally only come over to borrow a bowler hat for his Charlie Chaplin costume, Katya telling him with a grin that he had to remember to keep the hat on unless he wanted to end up looking like Hitler.

“No thanks.”

“Really?” Trixie looked confused for a moment, picking the last piece of web out of her hair. “But you love Halloween!”

“I have to go meet up with Adore.” Pearl shrugged, reaching behind Max to grab her jacket. “She wanted to look at costumes together so we can coordinate.”

“Awh,” Katya grinned, Pearl shooting her a sharp look. “That’s adorable.”

“Okay mom.” Pearl almost seemed like she was annoyed, but Katya could see in her eyes that she took the tease for what it was.

“I think it’s nice.” Trixie loaded the cobweb shooter. “It’s cute that you like someone.”

“Yeah, well…” Pearl mumbled something unintelligible as she slung a bag over her shoulder.

“What was that?”

“I said she’s the cute one!” Pearl exclaimed, and when all three of them began ‘aww’ing again, she immediately left, giving them exaggerated eye rolls.

“A couple’s costume?” Trixie said, pressing a hand to his heart as he sank down onto the sofa, eyes shining. “You think it’s getting serious?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s still Pearl,” Katya told him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

***

“Fame?” Patrick called out, closing the door behind him. He wasn’t sure if his wife was home yet, but the light was on, a Birkin on their entrance table.

“Up here!”

Patrick smiled to himself, Fame’s voice traveling down from upstairs. If he knew her right, she was probably sitting at her desk, going through whatever creative she hadn’t had time to look at at the office.

“I’ll be right down! Our costumes finally came!”

Patrick grinned, the sound of a computer closing and Charles perking up coming from upstairs. In reality, Patrick would have been fine with something from a boutique, or even no costume at all, but Fame had never been able to resist going all out, least of all for Halloween, and he found it charming enough to play along happily. Patrick loved his wife, had since he saw her for the first time, but she was also wonderfully, insanely extra.

Patrick watched as his wife came down the stairs in a flurry of white, a cape draped over her shoulders, her hair still in the delicate updo she had twisted it into that morning, their dog right behind her.

“I’m so glad they arrived in time!” Fame smiled as she opened the hallway closet, pulling out two garment bags.

“Hey boy.” Patrick smiled, scratching Charles' head, the dog nudging against his hand once before walking away when he realized that Patrick didn’t have any treats and that there was no promise of a walk on the horisont.

“You’re going to love them this year.” Fame grinned, unzipping one of the bags.

“Let me guess,” Patrick took a step forward, the dress a stunning golden piece with feathers. “Are you-”

“It’s Cleopatra!” Fame pulled the dress out. “1963.” Fame smiled brightly, the detail of the gown beyond decadent for a Halloween party, even if it was Heidi Klum’s.

“Ah.” Patrick smiled. “Of course, and who will I be then?”

It wasn’t that Patrick didn’t care, but he hadn’t actually been aware that he was going to that specific party until he had checked his shared calendar, Fame more often than not completely in charge of their social life.

It was how Patrick liked it, and since all of their friends would be there, he had found no reason to complain.

“How can you even ask?” Fame chuckled, opening the second bag. “You’ll be my adored consort, Mark Antony.”

“Of course,” Patrick chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple.

***

“I’m so so sorry-”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m only your boss when we’re at work, cutie.” Raven grinned as she heard Raja’s silky smooth voice, a clear hint of delight in the deep tone, Sutan chiming in from the front seat.

“Don’t call her that.”

They had just picked up Violet on their way to Heidi Klum’s Halloween party, Raja and herself in the back, while Sutan had taken a seat in the front with their driver, which was why they were even in this situation.

Violet had opened the door to the car, saying hi as she slipped in and placed a quick kiss on the cheek of the tall, mustached, suit-clad person in the middle seat. What Violet hadn’t noticed, until her lips had been pressed against skin, was the fact that it was not actually Sutan, but instead Raja, dressed up as Groucho Max.

“I swear I didn’t mean-” There was a hint of panic in Violet’s voice, the woman dressed up as Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the jewels on her neck clearly fake, but Raven guessed that it was only Halloween once a year, and Violet didn’t seem like the diamond type.

“Don’t worry,” Raja grinned, leaning back in her seat. “I rather liked it.”

“Raj-” Sutan turned his head, looking back at them. “Please.”

Raven had to bite her lip not to snicker, her corset digging into her hips. She knew Raja was only doing this to mess with Sutan, and it worked perfectly, the normally so cool, calm and collected man looking genuinely distressed.

“Scared I’ll steal your girlfriend?” Raja wiggled her brows, her fake mustache moving as she put an arm around the back of Violet’s seat, the other woman sitting completely straight, her hands in her lap.

“Hey!” Raven turned her head, a flash of jealousy washing over her, causing Sutan to laugh. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Awh,” Raja smiled, letting go of Violet. It was one of the weirdest things about Raja. Somehow, she seemed to genuinely like whenever Raven acted possessive, and if Raven had decked a girl here and there, or torn out an earring or two, that was no one's business but theirs.

“Princess.” Raja put a hand on her dress, the red sequined fabric probably scratchy to the touch. “You know,” Raja leaned in, “You’re the only one for me.”

“Oh god.” Sutan groaned. “Here we go again.”

The mustache felt weird as Raja kissed her, but Raven still put an arm around her neck, holding her close.

“Please tell me we’re almost there.”

Raven flipped Sutan off, making him laugh, her engagement ring almost getting tangled up in Raja’s wig.

***

“Ugh, I feel like such a basic bitch,” Courtney whined.

“That’s cause you are!” Morgan said, making Tyra laugh.

Courtney whimpered, looking around at the crowd outside Heidi Klum’s party. They were waiting for Adore to let them in, and she was rapidly losing confidence. She’d gone all-out on a Marilyn Monroe costume to fit the party’s “Old Hollywood Glamor” theme, even getting advice from her drag queen brother in Sydney (who did Marilyn regularly as part of his act), and of course, she’d already seen about 4 other girls with the same idea.

“Okay, but come on, you’re definitely gonna be the best Marilyn here,” Tati assured her.

“Easy for you to say,” Courtney said. “You actually had an original idea.”

Tati was dressed as Jeannie from the classic TV show, in a costume that showed off her gorgeous body to perfection. Courtney couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, wishing that her own costume was more creative. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was being just another generic blonde--especially at a chic event like this. She also probably needed to admit to herself that a big part of her nerves came from being in this kind of crowd again, possibly running into her boss.

“Happy Halloween, bitches!” came Adore’s voice, and they all turned around to see her sauntering down the sidewalk in a tailored pinstripe suit, Pearl on her arm in a pencil skirt and beret.

They were the hottest Bonnie and Clyde that Courtney had ever seen. Ugh, everyone was killing it and it made her feel even less worthy of being at the party in the first place.

“You guys look amazing!” Tyra exclaimed, and Adore grinned.

“Thanks, we know.” Adore gave them a sassy wink, a hand on Pearl’s lower back guiding her forward to the bouncer, where she waved her invite and then grandly beckoned the whole group inside.

***

“Ivy!” Jinkx’ face lit up with delight. She wasn’t expecting to see her beautiful crush tonight, but it was a wonderful surprise. Her costume was as adorable as she was, a cute and fashionable nod to Judy Garland in The Pirate when she sang “Be a Clown,” something that Jinkx knew very well that not many people would appreciate. “Hi! You look absolutely incredible!”

“Hi Ms. Mon-sorry, Jinkx,” Ivy giggled, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I guess you’re my daughter tonight, eh?”

Jinkx laughed as Ivy gestured to her Liza costume, shrugging and saying, “I guess so, Mama...wait no, that’s weird. You must be at least 5 years younger than me. Forget I said that. Please.”

“Consider it forgotten,” Ivy grinned again, asking, “So how have you been?”

“I’m good, I’m good. I’m so glad to see you, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jinkx took Ivy’s offered hug, squeezing her tightly but being sure to release her quickly, lest it get awkward.

“Oh yeah, well, my boyfriend works at Vogue and his boss couldn’t make it, so he gave us the tickets.”

Jinkx felt her world shatter at the words that had just left Ivy’s mouth. Boyfriend? What was going on?

“Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes, his name is Keith. We’ve been together for years, he’s over there by the bar.” Ivy waved happily to what Jinkx was sure was a lovely man in a coordinating costume.

“Right,” Jinkx nodded, because what else was she supposed to do? She only hoped that her face didn’t show how absolutely crestfallen she was.

“Actually, I was trying to remember that book you recommended because he’s super into local food too, but I couldn’t remember the title.”

“Oh, um…” Jinkx swallowed, suddenly wishing she was anywhere but here. “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.”

“Right! Thank you. Sorry, I’m such an airhead when I don’t write things down.”

Jinkx could see Keith approaching them now, two glasses of beer in his hands.

“It was so great to see you, but I really have to run. I was on my way to the bathroom, so-”

“Oh gosh, sorry!” Ivy smiled again, that beautiful smile, and gave her one more quick hug. “Find us later and we can talk some more!”

“Of course, sure! Bye, Ivy!” Jinkx turned towards the restrooms, hoping she could make it into a stall before her stupid tears started to fall.

***

Courtney peeked around a column, the butterflies her stomach going crazy when she spotted Bianca walking away from the bar with a couple of drinks, looking exactly as glamorous as expected in a deep blue silk wrap dress. She bit her lip, trying to gather the nerve to go say hello, when she realized that Bianca wasn’t alone, handing one of the drinks to a tall, absolutely stunning young woman--obviously a model.

To add insult to injury, the girl was also dressed as Marilyn, but her costume was a perfectly tailored version of the low-cut, high-slitted red sequined dress from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. It fit her lithe, willowy frame like a glove, and made Courtney all too aware of how out of place she was, in a cheap polyester version of Marilyn’s infamous white dress, the fake tits and hip pads that her brother had insisted she wear now feeling totally ridiculous and clownish.

As Bianca and her lady friend strolled forward, laughing and chatting, Courtney made sure to stay out of sight behind the column, heart sinking, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling like a creepy little stalker.

“There you are.”

The voice behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin, and she whirled around to face Tyra with a guilty flush rising to her cheeks.

“What are you doing skulking over here all by yourself?” asked Tyra, a hand on her hip, lips pursed in judgment.

“Nothing. Why?”

“I need another drink,” Tyra said. “Come on.”

She grabbed Courtney’s hand and pulled her towards the bar. Courtney followed, sighing, wishing she wasn’t such a chicken-shit baby.

***

“Hey.” Alaska nudged Jinkx with her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

They were perched on a couple of bar stools, Alaska looking cute as anything in classic Katharine Hepburn menswear, a look of concern on her face. Jinkx shook her head, feeling like an idiot for going so far down the hopeless crush rabbit hole with Ivy without even knowing whether she was single.

“Nothing, I’m just stupid.”

“Well, you’re definitely not that.” Alaska took a sip of her sparkling water.

“You give me too much credit,” Jinkx said with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m being so lame. Let’s go dance.”

She began to slide off the stool, but Alaska stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“We can dance, but first tell me what’s going on. Please,” Alaska smiled. “Maybe I can help.”

“I don’t deserve a friend like you, Lasky,” Jinkx said, lowering her head pitifully to the table. She had spent so much time going on and on about Ivy for over a month. It was shocking, actually, that Alaska still wanted to spend time with her at all. She must have been insufferable.

“Jinkx.”

Her voice was so soft and warm, it almost made Jinkx feel like crying again. She thought she’d gotten it all out in the bathroom earlier, but apparently not.

“I saw Ivy tonight,” Jinkx admitted, blinking fast to try and get rid of her tears. “Did you know she has a boyfriend? A serious boyfriend? I feel so fucking dumb for never-”

Alaska’s eyes had widened in surprise. This was clearly news to her too, which made Jinkx feel a tiny bit better.

“Jinkx, I’m so-” Alaska took her hand, grasping it tightly. “I’m so sorry. I know I was supposed to ask around about her, and things have been busy and I just-”

“It’s not your fault! Omigod, please don’t apologize.” Jinkx squeezed Alaska’s hand.

“But I promised you, and I never-”

“I’m glad you didn’t!” Jinkx shook her head. “Look, it’s a bummer, I guess, and I’ll probably be a mopey asshole for awhile, but I’m glad I found out before I totally embarrassed myself.”

“Anything I can do?” Alaska asked, eyes still soft and sympathetic.

“You can dance with me,” Jinkx said.

“You got it.”

Jinkx giggled, a mischievous smile spreading across her face as Alaska offered her arm and led her towards the dance floor.

***

“Come on!” Juju pulled on her husband's hand, trying to get him to walk faster through the crowd. It had taken forever to get the twins to bed after they had gone trick or treating, Julia and Owen beyond high on the sugar rush after Detox had allowed them to go ham in their Halloween buckets.

“But I want a drink-” Detox whined, and Juju almost rolled her eyes.

“You promised.” Juju looked over her shoulder, “Remember?”

“Right.” Detox smiled, pulling her in to press a kiss against her cheek.

“Ew!” Juju laughed, pushing him away, not willing to risk his orange makeup rubbing off on her face.

At first, when Detox had presented the ideas for their Halloween costumes, Juju had refused to dye his hair Oompa Loompa green, but once her husband made up his mind, it was nearly impossible to change it.

“Ah! Fame!” Juju waved as she spotted her friend, Fame’s hair covered by a stunning golden headdress.

“Juju!” Fame smiled, holding her arms out. “You made it!”

“Sorry we’re late.” Juju grinned. She had given her oldest a wad of cash before they left, Juju making sure that Kelly put it in her bra as a just in case, before she left for whatever high school students did these days.

As always, Juju’s friends had gathered in a corner, Fame almost allergic to open areas at parties. She spotted someone had to be Raja on the couch, making out with Raven, Detox already off to talk with Patrick.

“Juju!” Sutan smiled brightly, his new girlfriend sitting besides him. Juju had almost not believed it when she had read Raven’s text, her best friend swearing up and down that they were officially official. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Same,” Juju grinned, leaning into his hug Sutan got up to give her. “And who are you supposed to be?” Juju looked up and down, Sutan wearing a gray suit with a gray tie and a white shirt. “You decided to come as yourself? That’s real creative.”

“No!” Sutan huffed, sounding almost offended. “Look!” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and putting them on before he threw his arms out. “See!”

“Oh wow.” Juju drawled. “You’re yourself on a sunny day?”

“Please,” Sutan tipped the glasses down, “I’m Cary Grant. From North by Northwest.”

“Sure.” Juju smiled. She still didn’t believe that Sutan was actually dressed up, but it wasn’t his fault that Raja had gotten all the creativity. “Whatever you say, peaches.”

Sutan laughed, taking the sunglasses off again. “At least I’m not dressed as whatever the fuck-” Sutan pointed with the glasses, before putting them back in his pocket. “Your husband is supposed to be.”

“He’s an Oompah Loompah.” It sounded stupid even now, but it was what Juju had promised him when they’d gotten married, support in both good times and bad. “Duh.”

“Cheers bro!” Detox grinned, raising a glass. Juju had no idea where he had gotten it, the brown liquid unmistakably alcohol. That damn liar.

“Listen, does it surprise you that these two have the weirdest costumes?” Bianca slid up next to them, putting her arm around Juju’s shoulders. “It’s very on brand for them,” Bianca smiled, taking a sip of her drink. “Don’t you think?”

“Thanks, Daddy,” Juju chuckled, tugging on the white Peter Pan collar of her Veruca Salt costume and fluffing her pigtails.

“Hey,” Detox appeared at her side, Juju’s annoyance dying down immediately when she saw the glass of ginger ale that Detox was holding for her. “We just like to have fun.”

Juju took the drink, taking a sip of it, nose wrinkling. She was nearly halfway through this latest surprise pregnancy, and she was already sick of it. Her only consolation was the fact that Detox had finally agreed to a vasectomy, so there would be no more precious little accidents in the Sanderson household. Juju absolutely adored her children, but with a full-time job, a precocious teenager and 3 year old twins, she had her hands full and then some.

On the other hand...she was looking forward to that new baby smell. She rubbed her slightly swollen bump thoughtfully, and considered the fact that since this would be her last pregnancy, she may as well enjoy it. Even if a shot of tequila would be amazing on a night like tonight.

“Juju!”

Juju turned her head to see that Raven had finally pulled herself away from her makeout session with Raja, her still red lipstick annoyingly pristine.

“Look at you!” Juju threw out her arms. Raven was dressed like the only Jessica Rabbit, waist cinched tighter than Juju had ever seen, and of course her tits looking beyond amazing.

“Holy shit!” Juju reached out, grabbing the left tit. “How did you do this?”

“Custom made breastplate.” Raven grinned, pushing her red wig over her shoulder. “Doesn’t it look fan-fucking-tastic? I almost want to get a boob job.”

“As long as they look like this!” Juju laughed.

“Did you hear that Raj?” Raven yelled over her shoulder. “Juju thinks I should get a boob job!”

“Not the one against it!” Raja raised her drink, a smile on her face. “Ask the warden.”

Raven turned quickly to Sutan with a pointed look.

“How am I the villain here?” Sutan looked around.

“The people want boobs.” Juju snickered, leaning her face against Raven’s fake breasts. “You should give us the boobs.”

“I’ll make sure to inform the houses that porn star tits are in high fashion style.” Sutan rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling.

***

Kissing Pearl made Adore feel high.

Well, she was high, but kissing Pearl made it even better. Especially tonight, her girlfriend looking all luscious and feminine with her demure little skirt and glossy, cherry-red lips. All Adore wanted was to eat her up. They danced close together, and Adore couldn’t help hold her close, couldn’t stop her hands from roaming all over her.

She knew that people were watching them, could feel their eyes, and it made things even better. She moved her mouth to Pearl’s neck, letting her perfume wash over her as she sucked at her pulse point, hands squeezing her ass roughly.

Why not give ‘em a show?

***

“Raven!” Violet bit back a giggle as she made sure Raven didn’t fall, their fingers tightly clasped together. “Watch out!” They had gone to the bathroom together, Raven whining that she needed someone to help her with her dress. “You’re like a baby giraffe.”

“As if,” Raven snorted, her cheeks pink, a light in her eyes. “I’m a model.”

“Okay.” Violet smiled, shaking her head as they made their way across the floor. Violet was pleasantly tipsy, her body light and tingly with the alcohol in her blood. The party was a lot more fun than she had ever expected it would be, all the different costumes a joy to look at.

Violet was just looking around, taking in a man who had chosen to arrive on stilts for some reason, when she spotted an incredibly familiar face, the green eyes ones she had sat across from for months.

“Courtney!” Violet exclaimed, suddenly realizing that she actually almost missed the blonde.

“Violet! Hi!” Courtney smiled brightly, her entire energy like an overexcited puppy. Violet felt Raven let go of her hand, the other woman throwing herself at Adore who caught her with a laugh.

“You look-” Violet glanced down at Courtney’s costume. “... Did you get a boob job?”

“What?” Courtney looked down at herself. “No!” Courtney laughed, grabbing her own chest. “No, no these are fake.”

“Huh.” Violet bit her lip, the padded bra looking almost disturbingly real to her tipsy mind. “Good. You’re pretty with your own breasts.”

Courtney grinned, lashes fluttering as she said, “Well, thanks for noticing, Violet.”

Violet smiled back, shaking her head. It was like she had never found Courtney annoying at all, the blonde just a beacon of good vibes. She tried to remember the last time she’d even seen her at work, when something popped into her head.

“Wait. Wait wait wait.” Violet reached out, grabbing Courtney’s wrist. “What happened with that dress?”

Courtney looked puzzled, her head tilted in confusion. “What dress?”

“The dress for Fame?” Violet still remembered vividly how stressed Courtney had looked. “With the golden pockets?”

“Ohh, that.” Courtney waved her hand. “She looked at it for a few seconds and then demanded eight more unrelated things. The usual.”

A giggle bubbled up from Violet’s chest. Now that she wasn’t working in Miss Fame’s office anymore, she was allowed to find Courtney’s irreverence a little bit amusing.

“Courtneyyyyy come get shots with us!”

The most beautiful girl Violet had ever seen in her life suddenly appeared, tugging on Courtney’s arm. Violet’s eyes barely knew where to land, taking in her wide brown eyes and full lips, the pink and gold of her costume making her tan skin glow.

“Violet, have you ever met my friend Tati?” Courtney asked, and Violet blinked, reaching out her hand.

“Wow. You’re…” Violet swallowed. “Beautiful.” She instantly felt her cheeks heat up, a terrible blush no doubt blooming on her cheeks. Violet wanted to throw herself out the window, the whole thing terribly embarrassing, but thankfully, the angel just laughed.

“Hi,” Tati smiled. “You should come get shots with us!”

“Um. I have to…” Violet tried to force her brain, tried to remember how to be a human being. “I have to…” Violet turned around, leaving without another word in a desperate attempt not to make more of a fool of herself.

This.

This was exactly why she didn’t have friends.

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fanficwriter013 · 5 years

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The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 22

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1520

Warnings: none

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man. When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood. While others expect Thor to make things more official. What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note: written with one of 3 people that I know is in my corner, @avengerscompound

Chapter 22: Dressing for a Feast

“Honey.” Steve’s voice pulled me back out of my sleep. My eyes fluttered open and for a second I just blinked up at him a little disoriented. “El, it’s time to get up. We gotta get ready for Thor’s celebrations.”

I sat up and stretched, looking around at everyone. Sam had been acting as my pillow and Thor had returned with Loki who was now a woman again. But Natasha, Wanda, Bruce, and Tony were all missing. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yes, you did,” Bucky said. “Drooled all over Sam.”

“Oh,” I said, wiping my mouth. “Sorry, Sam.”

“It’s okay. It was cute.” Sam said, rubbing my back.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Guess the stress got to me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said. “You obviously needed it.”

I got up and stretched out my spine. “Okay, getting ready. What do I need to do?”

“I have clothes for you in here, with tailors to take them in if need be. And Loki has organized a team for hair and makeup in Wanda’s room.” Thor explained.

“Oh, wow,” I said. “Didn’t trust me to do my own makeup, Loki?”

“Like you even factored into the decision,” Loki scoffed. “I just didn’t want to paint my own face.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “So clothes first?”

“Yes, follow me,” Thor said. He led me into my room where a team of tailors were dressing Bruce and Tony. Bruce was being fitted into an indigo and gold outfit that was a blend of scaled armor and long silk-like jacket. Tony seemed to be forgoing Asgardian wear, over an Armani suit. Though he was allowing them to add embellishments in gold and red to the black.

Thor nodded to one of the tailors and she pulled a gown off the rack that was a dark blue, satin-like material. I took off the dress I was wearing and right away she began to help me into the new dress. Another two tailors came over and began taking in sections as quickly as their hands could move. Not that they seemed to need to do much. It fit pretty perfectly.

The gown was strapless with intricate silver filigree that trickled down into the skirt and trimmed the symmetrical lines of the hem. When they were happy with the fit the armor and jewelry came out. I was strapped into a silver breastplate that had dark blue filigree that mirrored the silver that it was covering so where the breastplate ended it looked like it flipped colors into the skirt. Next, they put on shoulder guards and vambraces in the same silver with blue filigree. They wrapped a fine filigree band that had leaves and blossoms on it around my upper arm and put a matching choker around my neck. By the time I was fully dressed, Tony and Bruce were gone and Clint and Bucky were being dressed too.

Clint was being dressed in plum and black leather. The jacket was knee length and the leather was embossed with a beautiful design that looked like a mixture of feathers and air-currents. Bucky was being fitted in leather plated armor of deep green and gold and there was a black fur cloak waiting to go over it.

“What do you think, my love?” Thor asked.

“It’s beautiful. What do you think?” I asked spinning.

“Gorgeous,” Thor said, smiling. “It is as if all the air has been sucked from the room.”

“Flatterer,” I said coming over and kissing his cheek.

“Asgardian clothes suit you, El,” Bucky said.

“You look pretty good in them too, Buck,” I said

Thor handed me a tiara in silver with blue crystals that matched the other jewelry. “Take this to the hairstylist to put in.” He said.

“Thank you. You should get dressed too.” I said.

He nodded. “I will now.”

I went back out into the living room and found Wanda. She was already dressed in a red floor-length gown that sat off the shoulders and had sleeves that reached the floor and were lined in a gold satin. She had panels of gold metal acting as a corset, the centerpiece going from the neckline and between her breasts and was adorned with a crest. Around her neck was a necklace in the same gold that cut a similar arrow shape as the plates.

“Hey,” she said. “Hair and makeup?”

“Yep. Let’s do it.” I said.

We went into her room where a team was set up with chairs placed in front of a long mirror. Loki sat in front of the mirror dressed in a gown of gold and green, adorned in her usual curled filigree and leather and scale armor. Natasha was just getting the finishing touches on her lips. Her gown was black and gold. The skirt was layer upon layer of a sheer black fabric that almost resembled feathers on a raven.

She stood and my breath caught. “Nat. You look stunning.”

“Thank you.” She said. “You both look so beautiful too. They are quite painless with the makeup.”

“I’m gonna tear that dress off you later.” I teased.

“Sounds good.” She said and kissed my cheek as she left the room. Wanda and I took seats next to Loki.

“Okay,” a woman says with a heavy accent. She looked me over and then grabbed my face and turned it left and right. I startled a little. No one had been so rough with me since I had gotten to Asgard. Or before really. At least not a stranger. “Might be able to work with zis one.”

“They’re a little abrasive, aren’t they, Loki?” Wanda joked.

“Total change from the mother-of-the-heir stuff I’m used to.” I agreed.

“I thought you might appreciate Griselda,” Loki said as a woman fussed around her.

“Keep still.” Griselda scolded and began to do my hair. Carefully curling it and braiding it.

The three of us sat quietly for a moment while the women worked their magic on us. It was Loki who broke the silence. “I’m not asking for opinions.” She said. “Left or right?”

“Left,” I said, not knowing what she was talking about.

“I agree,” Wanda added.

“Thank you. I think the left design will work.” She said. “I’m having jewels added to my eyes.”

“I see,” I said, not understanding at all, but assuming I would see soon enough. “I look forward to seeing the finished product.”

Loki made a dismissive sound like she was done talking about that and I smiled to myself. “Hey, Loki, when we’ve bonded with Thor will that make me your sister?”

Loki turned and glared at me.

“It will, won’t it?” I teased. “I’m gonna be your sister.”

“I will stab you,” Loki warned.

“Oh, sister. Don’t be like that.”

“Elise,” she said. “You’re pushing your luck.”

“Fine!” I said putting up my hands in defeat.

She scowled and the makeup artist seemed to start working on her a little faster. We fell silent again. Loki was the first to be done and she swept out of the room wordlessly. Griselda finished with me next and I looked at myself in the mirror.

“Wow! That’s me?” I asked.

“Yes,” She said, her voice sounding like she was addressing someone who was quite dim.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” I said.

She nodded and the woman working on Wanda finished up. The two of us headed out to the living room to find the others. Everyone appeared to be dressed, though Thor was noticeably absent. Everyone’s clothing uniquely made to fit them. Sam was in a dark grey and silver with what looked like black and silver feathers adorning it. Both embossed into the leather and metal and each scale in his armor looked like a feather. Steve wore a dark blue and silver. There were stars worked into the detail, but they looked like real stars. Like he was wearing the galaxy rather than the five-pointed star he normally wore.

Thor came out of the kids' room. He wore his usual armor but it was a little more ornate and a little more polished. The metal was iridescent like an oil slick and the cape he wore wasn’t his usual red, but rather seemed to have a color to represent each of us. He was carrying Pietro who was clinging to him and hiding his face in Thor’s neck, while Riley walked beside him holding his hand. Both the children were wearing white robes with gold ropework and gold capes.

“Pietro does not wish to be put down,” Thor said. “He doesn’t like his clothes and he’s feeling shy.”

“I’m feeling shy too, Piet. Do you want to go with me?” Bruce asked.

Pietro turned in Thor’s arms and held out his hands to Bruce who took him and the little boy immediately hid in Bruce’s neck.

“Is everyone ready?” Thor asked.

We all nodded in agreement and those that were sitting got up. Thor looked us all over and nodded. “Alright, my chosen people, follow me.”

We formed a line of two by two and headed out to the feast.

//NEXT

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aquariusrunes · 5 years

Text

The Superfriends AU (part 9)

The flashes were blinding and the large lights heated the room like a sauna. His palms were moist with sweat as he reached up and pulled at his collar. Colin had not been this nervous this morning. And Damian of course, said he had nothing to be nervous about when he had started to feel anxious. But he did. He’d obviously been too tired to properly panic when Violet dropped off the outfit he was currently wearing, this morning.

It had started when he unzipped the black garment bag. The intricate details embroidered on the expensive fabric immediately caught his eye and sent up the most alarming red flags. He’d never worn anything so expensive. Not even the suits Mr. Wayne had gotten tailored to his form for the handful of galas Damian had taken him to, cost as much as his current outfit.

The next anxiety laced arrow to hit him was when Damian had pointed out that Colin and Edna had yet to hold a real conversation. Their interactions with one another had completely ceased after his boyfriend’s introductions were finished.

And then there was Edna’s ability to influence Damian. She was one of the few members of his family he let himself be pushed around by. He willingly did her bidding as well as valued her opinion. And Colin had thought making sure Marinette had a good opinion of him was important, only to find out that Edna’s had more weight.

Now he stood sandwiched between the small woman who essentially invented fashion and one of the richest men in the world. Bruce had pated Colin on the shoulder when he first walked up to the two, a silent reassurance to the obviously panicked boy. The intimidating man now stood straight, shoulders squared with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were not on his son, who was currently up on a platform surrounded by fake trees, instead his dark eyes had a strange shadow cast over them, reminding Colin of the man’s alter ego. He was carefully surveying the room, analyzing everyone who fell under his intense gaze.

On Colin’s right stood his boyfriend’s great aunt, her stance near identical to her nephew's. Her eyes were trained on Damian, unlike the boy’s father whose gaze was roaming the room. However, her glare was no less intimidating or fear inducing. Though, Colin couldn’t exactly blame the woman for her current enraged expression.

His eyes went back to his boyfriend, Damian was dressed in a top that resembled a toga, the one strap tank consisting of billowy semi-sheer fabric, tucked into slim dark grey pants, that Edna had whispered to him were a cigarette style. He also wore a well fitted silver blazer, the material of which was lighter than the pants. His face covered in metallic silver and soft brown makeup, he was too far to really see the details the makeup artist had done, but he could see an intricately drawn crescent moon done in silver eyeliner on Damian’s right cheek, as well as the matte midnight blue lipstick.

His hair had been wetted and dried a number of times before it was curled to Edna’s satisfaction. Now every time there was a pause in the camera’s flashes, a tall blonde woman would step up onto the platform and use a spray bottle to dampen Damian’s hair and then restyle it. Every time she tried to touch him though, he would aggressively react both physically and verbally. Colin had picked up on a few older female oriented insults, his boyfriend had a knack for talking like he just time traveled from Victorian London. The darker skinned boy eventually resorted to batting the bottle out of the woman’s grip as well as slapping her hands away.

Beyond the problems he was having with the stylist, Damian was also getting difficult with the photographer. Not necessarily on purpose, but Edna was still less than pleased.

Damian was a very handsome boy, not exactly what one would consider classically handsome, but his features were undeniably attractive. His naturally neutral expression was extremely attractive, and gave off an air of aloofness and mystery that most girls their age found irresistible. But very few people were aware of just how stunning the boy’s smile could be. Not the fake polite one he showed interviewers or those he couldn't be bothered with but had to interact with often enough to the point that forced him to be courteous. His real smile was absolutely breathtaking.

The photographer had been trying to get that breathtaking expression for about ten minutes. Colin could see how the man was grating on his boyfriend's nerves. Edna and the photographer were becoming increasingly frustrated as well, which was totally understandable in the redhead's mind. But he was sure that if either of them snapped at Damian the boy would storm out in a frustrated huff.

Poor Angel, he really was trying. He just had difficulty relaxing to the point where his natural smile could be displayed. He carried far too much tension around for sixteen year old, even with all his extracurriculars.

Colin watched the blonde woman fight against Damian once again, his bangs had fallen into his eyes and she needed to correct them. His boyfriend’s palm raised, slapping the purple spray bottle out of her hand, it bounced off the platform and rolled towards Colin, Edna, and Mr. Wayne.

It caused Bruce to let a low chuckle break from his lips, which took Colin far too much by surprise. He’d actually forgotten that his boyfriend’s father had been standing there. The wealthy man looked down at his Aunt’s unamused expression. “I did warn you about working with him.”

“Yes.” She grumbled. “Forgive me for having faith that a sixteen year old could stand not to act like a child for thirty minutes or so.” Her arms crossed tightly over her body. “Honestly, why are your boys always so difficult?”

“They aren’t difficult,” Bruce defended. “Just...different.”

Edna rolled her eyes at the man.

“Different, sure.” She huffed. “Luckily, I planned for Damian’s ‘differentness’ and have a solution at the ready.”

Bruce cocked his eyebrow, giving his aunt a questioning look. She smiled up at him before her gaze lowered to Colin, the boy’s face coated in just as much confusion as Bruce’s. “Colin dahling.” The woman walked forwards several steps, leaning down and picking up the purple bottle. “Come here please.” She motioned at him with a curl of her fingers and he was quick to follow her, doing as told like a little soldier.

“Yes ms-” He stopped himself. “Edna.” He finally said.

She smiled, patting his hand. “Colin could you be a dear and go help Damian with his hair?” The ginger tilted his head, looking back at the blonde woman as she stomped off the platform. Another series of flashes fired, as Damian positioned himself in whatever way the photographer told him to.

“His hair?” Colin asked. “I think it looks fine.” Truthfully he did. He wished Damian would wear it curly more often, but knew how unprofessional his boyfriend felt when he did.

“Could you just go push his bangs back and use the spray bottle to help his hair curl a little more. Please dahling, it would be a big help.” Edna held the bottle out to Colin.

“Um…” Colin looked back at Damian as another flash went off. “I guess?” He questioned. “Right now?”

His hands slowly took the purple bottle. “No no, in just a moment, when I walk over to look at the shots we have so far.”

“Yes ma’am.” Colin turned from the woman, facing Damian’s platform. His perplexed look melting away and being replaced with a smile as he saw Damian push his own bangs back, only for them to fall back into his eyes without the assistance of his ever precious hair gel.

He only had to wait a moment before Edna patted him on the shoulder before swaggering over to the photographer. Colin was quick to hop up onto the platform and over to his boyfriend, who looked less than pleased. His face was set in a scowl and his arms were tightly crossed. The closer Colin got though the more of the makeup he could make out. Damian’s eyes were traced in metallic off white eyeliner, the shade only varying slightly from the moon drawn on his cheek, and a range of soft browns were used for his eyeshadow. The color pellet suited him extremely well.

“You know,” He began, getting Damian’s attention. “You’re making this way more difficult than it has to be.”

Damian didn’t respond, he just rolled his eyes, directing his gaze elsewhere.

“It’d all go a lot quicker if you cooperated. It’d also be less painful too.” Once Colin was properly in front of his boyfriend he took note of the glitter highlighting his cheekbones, as well as a chain earrings that had been hooked onto his right ear, and a thick silver choker that resembled something out of the greek myths themselves around Damian’s neck.

Damian gave Colin a rather dry unamused look. “If that woman would stop touching me, everyone would be in less pain.”

“Dames,” Colin breathed. “She’s a stylist, it’s literally her job to touch you.” He rested his free hand on his hip. “She is getting paid to come up here and make sure that you continually look perfect throughout this shoot.”

The boy only huffed turning his head away once again.

“Your aunt is getting a little frustrated with you as well.” Colin’s gaze drifted across the room towards the woman. She was sitting in front of a computer with the tall balding photographer, neither seemed happy with the shots they had so far. Edna’s eyes slowly traveled up, locking onto Colin’s. It nearly gave him a heart attack.

He turned his attention back to his boyfriend. “I’m gonna spray you with this,” He held up the bottle. “And mess with your hair.” Damian’s eyebrow quirked up. “If you slap my hand, I will punch you in the face.”

Damian’s shoulders visibly tensed when the mist fell over him, but he relaxed once Colin moved to brush his bangs back. While a little less tense, the boy still stood incredibly still, almost like a statue. Colin’s hands moved quickly, doing his best to mimic how the first hair stylist had shaped Damian’s hair before the shoot had started. It didn’t look perfect but it looked better than it did when his bangs were hanging in his face. In fact, once Colin was done it started looking more messy, resembling the boy’s rare bedhead after a sleepless night. But it looked good, at least in Colin’s opinion.

He couldn’t stop his laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He snickered, running his fingers through Damian’s curls, repositioning them. “You should really consider wearing it curly more often.” He whispered.

“Absolutely not.” Damian was quick to refuse, but couldn’t stop the corner of his lips from quirking up. “Why are you up here anyway?” He asked.

Colin smirked as he continued his work. “Board of me already babe?”

Damian rolled his eyes, gaze dropped to the ground as he willed his blush to fade. He wasn’t great with nicknames, not when Colin used them. Shortenings of his name was fine, but it always got to him when more traditional pet names were used by his boyfriend. “No.” He muttered. “Just curious, after all Edna was rather clear about you and Jon not interfering while I work.”

“Your aunt asked me to come fix your hair.” Colin shrugged. “Probably because she knew you wouldn’t be near as cranky with me.”

“I am not being cranky.” The boy bit back, earning an unamused look from his freckled boyfriend.

“Dames.”

“I don’t like people touching me Colin, she knew this when she asked me to be her model.” Colin rolled his eyes, hands moving out of his boyfriend’s hair.

“Yeah, but you're also very mature for your age and should be able to suck it up for thirty minutes or so.” Colin crossed his arms. “Seriously Dames, this isn’t like a crowd of Wayne Ward Fangirls trying to grope you on the street. That woman is trying to do her job and by you being cranky, it’s making everything run very inefficient.”

“Are you implying I’m a bad model?”

“Course not.” The redhead sighed. “I’m implying that you’re acting like a child and it’s not cute.” He gave a small smile. “But other than your attitude, you’re doing a very good job.” Colin leaned forward and peck Damian’s cheek, the one not coated in eyeliner. “Just smile a little more.”

Colin turned, hopping off the platform, and turning back to watch once he was far enough to not be in the shot. He flashed the mixed race boy a blinding smile once he was out of the way and gave him a thumbs up. Damian returned the gesture with a soft smile, not noticing the flashes of the camera as he watched his boyfriend who, after a few minutes, started to make utterly ridiculous faces.

Edna and Bruce watched from their previous spot. Positions the same, backs straight, shoulders square, hands clasped behind them. Edna’s face cracked into a self satisfied smirk. Bruce’s eyes watching the scene before him critically.

“So that’s why Colin’s here.” He finally said.

“Fail safes are important dahling.”

“What would you have done if Damian hadn’t brought him along?”

“Please,” Edna looked up at her nephew. “Who do you think gave him the idea to invite the boy?”

…

Marinette watched her cousin and his boyfriend retreat down the hallway, Colin’s arms wound around one of Damian’s. The boy had mentioned in the elevator that he needed to go feed Titus and would be down in the cafeteria once he was finished. Colin quickly volunteered to go with him. Marinette assumed it was because of how moody Damian had gotten towards the end of the photoshoot. She could practically see the negative energy radiating off the boy. Jon and Chloé, who had also been in the elevator went straight to the Mode cafeteria. Marinette and Adrien had gotten off on the floor with all of their rooms like Colin and Damian. Marinette making the excuse that she needed to call her mom and Adrien saying he forgot something in his room.

Once she saw her cousin’s form round the corner of the hall she turned back around to look and see if Adrien had gone into his room yet or not. The door with a large number seven on it was firmly close, the blonde nowhere in sight. She turned back to her own door, took in a large breath to steal her nerves, then turned the knob and walked into the suite.

The room was large with a queen sized bed against a wall of floor to ceiling windows, the sheer black curtains were drawn currently. There was a fireplace in her room on the opposite wall, the one that her door was on. It was an electrical insert and so didn’t require a chimney. There was a flat screen tv above it and two red chairs in front of it. A silver rack was against the mainly empty wall, holding her mass of black garment bags. The west wall was mainly taken up by a large dresser vanity combo, which her accessory trunk was currently in front of.

Her room had been mostly left undisturbed since she first arrived, save for the bed, which she had messily made that morning. Mostly everything in the room was well organized, especially her garments and accessories to make things a little less stressful for her during the hectic week.

The large white comforter of her bed was wrinkled and had been pulled towards the center of the mattress, creating something that resembled a nest. In front of the mass of blankets, propped up on a couple of pillows was her tablet. Her nerves were on fire, but she still managed a smile when the head of her kawami popped up from behind the piece of technology. The small creature was quick to pause whatever video she had been watching, most likely a telenovela she had found on one of the streaming services Marinette’s family subscribed too. The girl had discovered relatively soon after becoming the wielder of the ladybug miraculous that the creature had a bit of an addiction to the television genre.

“Marinette!” Tikki beamed, flying up to her holder. “How is the photoshoot going?”

“Well…” Her smile tightened. “Well.” She reiterated. “I think it’s going well. Aunt E is unbelievably specific.” Marinette’s hands clutched the fabric of her sweatpants before releasing it, she repeated this process a few times. “She made some intern repaint a handful of leaves on a fake tree because it wasn't mossy enough. She also made a girl cry this morning, sooo we’ve been off to an interesting start.”

“Did you have to take your earrings off?” The tiny god asked, eyes large, searching her wielder’s face. She didn’t sound angry, necessarily, but Marinette knew she would be if she lied.

The bluenette bit down on her lower lip, gaze fluttering down to the floor. “Yes.” She said, voice laced with a heavy sigh. “But only for thirty minutes or so.”

“Marinette...” The kawami sighed.

“Edna was insistent I wear her earrings!” The girl quickly defended. “I tried Tikki, I really did but she was so-so...insistent.”

The small god stared at her obviously anxious choice. “That was very dangerous Marinette.” Her voice was still very gentle in nature.

“I know.” Marinette kept her eyes on her feet. “And I’m sorry, really sorry.”

Tikki was quiet for a long moment before letting out a large breath, flying a little closer to the girl. “You’ll have to have them off again for the rest of the shoot, won’t you?”

“Again, I am so sorry.”

“Marinette, having the earrings off is very dangerous.” Tikki reiterated. “Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Of course I do.” Marinette scrunched her hands into her sweatpants again. “But I did think up a plan!” She added quickly. “Since I have to take them off again, I’m going to hide them here in my room. That way you can watch over them and they aren’t floating around in a room full of strangers.”

Tikki floated back down onto the bed. “I suppose that would be the best option. Do you know where you’ll hi-” A very solid knock came from her door, just two taps, but Marinette already knew who would be behind it. She walked to the door, then turned about to tell Tikki she wouldn’t need to hide, but the god had already vanished.

She opened the door, revealing one Adrien Agreste, a sheepish smile on his face. “Is yours half as mad as mine?” He asked as Marinette stepped aside, letting him into the room before shutting the door behind him.

“I’d say more disappointed, but I haven’t told her everything yet.”

Adrien winced at her words. “I can come back later once you have.” He offered, to which Marinette gave him a look.

“Definitely not.”

“Damn.”

“What happened to pretending it didn’t happen?” Suddenly Tikki was floating in the middle of the room again. “Acting like you didn’t know?! Not discussing it directly!?” The Kawami huffed. “Marinette there are only so many loopholes we can go through before you blatantly just break the rules!”

“I’m sorry!” Marinette whined. “But I didn’t know what to do!” She took several steps forward. “Edna made me take off my earrings and I had to give them to someone! I couldn’t just set them down somewhere and risk them getting stolen or falling on the floor or something! And yes, Edna offered to hold them or suggested I let Uncle Bruce do it but, full disclosure I don’t know if I trust either of them with a miraculous. Like Uncle Bruce is very curious and I just couldn’t risk it!” Both Adrien and Tikki were becoming mildly concerned with how red the girl was getting, her speech increasing in speed with every shade her face deepened in color. “And Edna well I just don’t think I could ever in good conscience hand the earrings over to her! I mean yes she knows but she doesn’t understand. And in the moment, I mean you have to agree that under those circumstances Adrien was the best option since we weren’t taking photos together. But we’ll have to after lunch so I told him I had a plan and so I’m going to hide our mirac-”

“PIGTAILS!” Marinette physically jumped back, colliding with the dresser. A small black cat like creature floating before her. “Take a breath girl.” He said. “Seriously, you’re going to pass out.” The creature turned his head towards Tikki. “Does she do this a lot?”

“It’s not a common occurrence, but it isn’t necessarily uncommon.” The red god replied.

“Good grief.” The black creature mumbled. “Look Pigtails, we aren’t mad. Under the circumstances, you did the best you could. Sometimes unpredictable stuff like this happens. I’m honestly surprised the kid’s pops hasn’t made him take the ring off during a photoshoot yet.”

“Marinette,” Adrien finally spoke. “You remember Plagg, right?”

The girl’s eyes were still wide, her heart rate still slowing form the shock that had just pulsed through her body. “Y-yeah. I remember him.”

“The two of you being aware of one another’s identities and interacting with each others miraculouses as civilians, it complicates things and if the past is anything to go by, makes things exceedingly more difficult. It’s why we find it better to keep personal things a secret. But I’m sure the guardian's already talked you through all of this stuff.”

Marinette nodded her head, taking a step forward.

“But,” Plagg let a breath out. “This is where we are now. And what’s most important is that the miraculouses are safe while the two of you can’t wear them. So, where’s this genius hiding spot of yours?”

“I-I’ll get it.” She mumbled, quickly darting across the room to where her portable sewing kit was.

Adrien and Tikki both kept their eyes locked on Plagg.

“That was surprisingly very insightful Plagg.” Tikki said, flying up to her partner.

“I can be smart!” He retorted. “I understand the importance of our miraculouses! I don’t just think about Cheese.”

“You just mainly think about it.” Adrien responded, pulling the tin of camembert out of his pocket and setting it down on the dresser.

“Well yeah.”

“Okay.” The three’s attention was directed towards Marinette as she sat down on the end of her bed, setting her now open sewing kit in her lap. Held tightly in her hands was a handmade Chat Noir doll.

“What is that?” Plagg asked.

“This,” Marinette held it up. “Is what I’m going to hide the miraculouses in.” She smiled, grabbing the small scissors out of her portable kit she flipped the doll on it’s side, looking for the seam before moving to cut it open.

“I-” Adrien’s head tilted. “I’m so confus-is that the doll Manon stole when she got akumatized?”

Marinette looked up at him, the doll’s side already open. “Yeah.” She blinked before digger her fingers into the doll to pull out some of the stuffing. “I didn’t really know what to do with them afterwards. I couldn’t just throw them away, so I put them all in a trunk. I let her play with them whenever I babysit. Well, Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t live in the trunk. They’re usually either on my desk or the shelf above my bed.”

Plagg had flown over and was now hovering above Marinette’s shoulder, Tikki sitting on her other one. “You’re going to put them inside of it?” The small black creature asked.

“Yup.”

“I have never seen either of those dolls in your room.” Adrien said, sitting down on the arm of one of the red chairs.

“That’s because I hide them when you come over.” She glanced up at him. “Last thing I needed was a nosy kitty teasing me about my dolls.”

“I am not nosy.”

“Adrien whenever Chat Noir is in my room about seventy-five percent of what he does is rummaged through my things.” She shot him a pointed look.

“I’m curious.”

“Your nosy.” The girl set the doll down in her lap on top of her sewing kit, she then reached up and carefully pulled out her earrings. She let out a sigh, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders as she slipped the jewelry inside the doll.

She then looked up at Adrien expectantly.

He stared at her for a long moment with blank eyes, blinking rapidly before finally asking. “Why’d you bring the Chat doll with you?”

Marinette’s cheeks tinted pink as she looked back down at the doll, she put some of the stuffing back in, that way the two miraculouses would be seperated. “I have my reasons.” She whispered.

“Sometimes when she’s trying to think things out she’ll talk to it.” Tikki supplied from Marinette’s shoulder. “The whole identity thing has been on her mind a lot lately so she’s been talking to him quite a bit.”

Marinette’s face grew more red as Plagg laughed. “That’s hilarious!” The creature cackled. “This one just confesses his undying love to the poster he has on the backside of his closet door.”

“Okay!” Adrien stood quickly, slipping his ring off his finger and placing it in Marinette’s waiting palm. “Let’s just hurry up and go get lunch.” He turned away from her quickly, trying to hide his own blush behind his hand.

Marinette silently slipped it into the doll, then replaced the rest of the stuffing. She was quick to thread a needle with some black thread then set to work repairing the doll.

Both Kawami’s watched the girl closely. “This is actually a pretty sound idea pigtails.” Plagg muttered. “Unless of course someone obsessed with dolls get akumatized. But Hawkmoth should be out of range so, we should be fine.”

Marinette hummed in agreement as she finished her stitch. “Good as new.” She whispered, twisting to set the doll in the middle of the small nest Tikki had made.

“Should we be worried that there aren’t any heroes in Paris right now?” The god of creation asked, unknowingly inciting panic in her chosen.

“Oh my god.” Marinette’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t have a lot of time before I left,” Adrien turned. “But I was able to get a message to Master Fu with Plagg’s help. So he knows we’re both gone.” Adrien stuck his hands into his pockets.

“If there’s trouble, then he’ll probably just call on one of the random holders you’ve been using every now and again.” Plagg added. “But I doubt Hawkmoth will try anything, and if he did, he'd probably call the akuma back once you two didn’t show.”

“That’s true.” Tikki whispered. “Not much use terrorizing Paris when the objects your after aren’t even there. Still though, now that you two are aware of one another’s identities, I implore you to avoid being out of the city at the same time in the future. Just in case.”

“Well it’s not like I planned on leaving.” Adrien said. “I found out like barely an hour before I boarded the plane to come here.”

“Just a tip for the future.” Tikki added.

“Are we watching Yo soy Betty, la fea?” The three looked back at the nest where Plagg had obviously made himself comfortable. “I love that show!” He looked up at Tikki excitedly. “Where are we right now?” He asked.

The Kawami sighed. “He’s staying here then?” She asked, looking between the two humans.

“We figured you’d both want to stay close to your miraculouses.” Marinette explained.

“And we also thought that since you two hadn't seen one another in awhile, you’d want to hang out and catch up.” He smiled sheepishly. “Do you mind?”

Tikki let out a small huff and rolled her eyes at the excited kitten rolling around in her nest. “I suppose not.” She slowly flew down and situated herself next to him. “But no cheese in my nest.”

“Ahh! Tikki! That’s not fair!”

…

It was so strange. Chloé Bourgeois, one of the most difficult and least liked people on the planet, a self given title, had only made two friends throughout her entire life. The first was Adrien, the two had known one another practically since they were in the womb. Literally. Emilie was pregnant on her wedding day, not that anyone save for maybe four people alive knew that, and Chloé was conceived after the reception. They’d always been pushed together, the girl’s mother lobbying hard for a relationship to bloom between the two. But Adrien was her oldest and dearest friend.

Sabrina was her second friend. She’d met her when she was ten. Chloé had made a girl at the park cry. The way Sabrina stared at her, eyes wide, drinking in the scene and raw emotions of anger and sadness radiating off the other two was one of the creepiest things Chloé has ever seen. So of course, she had yelled at Sabrina, she didn’t like the way she was being ogled at. The next day Sabrina had transferred into Chloé’s class. The ginger latched onto her, becoming a constant companion. Until Chloé tried to be better, then Sabrina moved on to Lila.

Yet, in under twenty-four hours Jon Kent had proclaimed himself her new best friend. She’d opened up to him more than anyone else she’d ever known, even her therapist of three years didn’t know as much about Chloé as this random boy from Kansas now did. And everytime she said something bad about herself he would correct her. Everytime she said something bad about someone else, he forced her to list three things she liked about them. She’d never known anyone like him. The strange spell he had over her was so confusing. She honestly had no idea how they had gotten here in such a short period of time. But she didn’t hate it.

She sat across from him at one of the circular tables in the Mode cafeteria, now dressed in her sweats with her hair up in a clip. The metallic makeup still decorating her face. Her lipstick stained the rim of the white mug she sipped her coffee from as she watched the boy across from her animatedly rant.

“Seriously though!” Jon banged his fist against the table, making both of their trays of food shake. He had been ranting about flannel the whole time they’d been in line. At this point, Chloé didn’t think anything was going to get him to stop.

“Plenty of high end designers resent the material, it’s got a stench of the midwest and middle class reeking off of it.” She sat her cup down. “My mother finds it personally offensive. She’d probably disown me if she ever saw me in it.”

Jon stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and blank before he finally spoke. “I’m going to buy you so much flanel, what’s your favourite colors?”

“Gold, yellow, baby blue, and duke blue.” She crossed her arms. “Please God, don’t buy me anything. Especially flanel.”

“I’m gonna get you a yellow and blue one.” Chloé let out a large groan as the Kansan beamed at her.

“Hey Chlo.” She looked up, making eye contact with one Adrien Agreste. His smile radiating that pure sunshine he was famous for. “Hi Jon.”

“Hey Adrien.” Jon smiled back, sticking a spoonful of chocolate pudding in his mouth.

“Mind if we join you?” Chloé’s eyes immediately flicked behind the blonde where Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood, partially hidden behind the tall model, tray in her hand.

“Course not!” Jon chimed after a thick swallow. “Got a big table because I figured all six of us would want to sit together.” Adrien walked around the table to sit between Chloé and Jon, while Marinette sat between the two on the other side.

Chloé quickly noted the lack of earrings on her person. It was strange seeing her without them, she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she saw the girl’s naked lobes. Her eyes then darted to Adrien’s hand, now resting on the table. No ring.

They must have stashed the jewelry away somewhere safe before coming down. She was more than a little relieved that an anxiety inducing scene like the one this morning would not be repeated. She swore her heart rate quickened every time she saw the two slip their miraculouses into one another’s hands. But the idea of two of the most powerful things on earth being left unguarded somewhere in the Mode building was somewhat unsettling as well. She’d just have to trust in the two’s intuition she supposed. Not much else she could do anyway.

“So, what were the two of you chatting about?” Adrien asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the table as the four began to eat their meals.

“Oh.” Jon perked up. “I was just talking about how I was gonna buy Chloé a whole bunch of flannels.” He smiled at her cheekily. “Then we can wear them around and match so everyone knows we’re best friends.”

“Definitely not.” Chloé snapped quickly as Adrien began to laugh.

“I think I would honestly give you one of my kidneys if you got this girl into flannel.” The blonde continued to laugh as he began cutting into what looked like chicken.

“It’s not the worst material in the world.” Marinette said, voice somewhat quiet. “It’s just hard to work with when your designing for people willing to pay millions.”

“Exactly what I said!” Chloé shouted.

“You said it smelled like the midwest and middle class.” Jon corrected.

“Yeah,” Chloé crosses her arms. “It’s the smell that makes it difficult to sell to millionaires.”

“I don’t even want to think of what my father would do if he saw me in flannel.” Adrien added before taking a bite of his food.

“Geez, what is with y’all’s parents?” Jon asked. “My dad wouldn’t have the slightest problem with me wearing flannel.”

“Does your dad regularly wear flannel though Jon?” Chloé asked.

“Well yeah,” the boy stirred his spoon around what remained in his small bowl of pudding. “But my mom kind of hates the fabric. But she doesn’t get mad at me when I wear it!”

“Ah, but you see young one,” Marinette interjected. “Your parents care about you.”

“My father cares!”

“That you look good.” Chloé snorted. “Seriously Adri, it’s okay that your dad doesn’t love you. In fact, I think I’ve been doing much better since I accepted the fact that my mother can’t stand me.” The table went silent, Chloé preoccupied with her coffee didn’t noticed until she had set her cup back down. “What?” She asked, looking around at the concerned faces surrounding her.

“Chlo…” Adrien reached out for her hand.

“She cares Chloé.” Marinette whispered. “On some level, all parents care about their kids.”

“She’s right.” Jon added. “She may not show it but your mother loves you Chloé.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, pulling her hand away from Adrien’s. “It’s really not that big of a deal anymore. I’ve accepted it and I’ve moved on.” She turned her face away from the group.

“Chloé-” Marinette was interrupted by a tray being slammed down on the table. They all looked up to see Damian who was pulling a chair up and sitting down between Marinette and Jon.

“I hate this.” He said, monotone voice laced with rage.

Colin quietly pulled up a seat, opting to sit between Adrien and Chloé. “Blood pressure dear.” The redhead mentioned, picking up a white mug that fizzed like a soft drink and taking a long sip from it.

“Hate what?” Marinette asked.

“This.” Damian’s eyes squinted, hands extending. “Did Enda tell you what she did?” He asked.

Marinette turned forward, fork poking at the pasta on her tray. “I think we’ve already established that Aunt E shared very little of what was happening during this trip with me.”

“Alexander Galbaki has these fraternal twins in his family.” Damian began to explain, fist clenched around his fork. “I forget their names, it’s like russian or german though. But their our age, a girl and a boy who are never seen not with one another.”

“I’m betting on a twincest situation.” Colin piped up, setting his cup down.

“Does that happen in real life?” Jon asked. “I thought it was just a fanfiction thing?”

Colin shook his head. “We looked up their instagram while Titus ate, they are like all over each other, it’s seriously nauseating.”

“What do these creeps have to do with Edna?” Chloé asked, leaning forward and resting her chin on her fist.

“Edna decided to have Marinette and I be her models for this after she found out that Galbaki is releasing a collection the same night as her runway!” Damian threw his hands out in front of him, his face clearly expressing that they should all be understanding his frustration.

“And the twins are headlining it?” Adrien finally asked.

“YES!” he screamed.

“Oh.” Marinette nodded. “She wants us to compete with them.” She nodded a little faster. “That makes sense.” She twirled some pasta on to her fork. “Why is this pissing you off?”

“She could have told us!” he stabbed his fork into his salad. “Seriously! If I had known I had a target on this trip I would have researched in advance.” He grumbled as he shoved his fork into his mouth.

“Vanya and Demitri.” Colin sounded, Damian’s phone in his hand. “See it’s gross,” He showed the phone to Chloé, the screen displaying two very pale teenagers with platinum blonde hair. The girl was in a very skimpy white bikini her long hair straightened and reaching her butt, black headband holding back her bangs and a pair of high end sunglasses covering her eyes. She was seated on the lap of another very pale teenager in a pair of black swim trunks. His almost white hair swept back, sunglasses covering his eyes as well. One of his hands was weaved around the girl’s waist, the other resting on her thigh.

“Okay ew.” Chloé mumbled as Colin shifted to show Adrien the picture.

“I mean,” The blonde scratched at his head. “Yeah, that doesn’t look great but it’s just one picture-”

“They are all over each other in pretty much every post.” Colin interjected. “It’s gross.”

“So stop looking at it.” Marinette stated matter-of-factly. “No one is making you insta stalk them.”

“We need to do research!” Damian growled. “I need to be ready to take them down at a moments notice.”

“Dames is just pissy because Demitri is taller than him.” Colin said with a roll of his eyes.

“He is a freakishly tall human being!”

Colin leaned over to Chloé. “He used to be like way short when he was little, even though he’s shot up like a weed he’s still got short man syndrome.” He whispered, the girl quickly covered her mouth to stifle her giggle.

“Speaking of insta stalking.” Chloé said through her breathy laugh. “Have we gotten any more updates on the drama back home?” She asked, question pointed towards Adrien. “Last I heard Lila was telling everyone she was Damian’s secret girlfriend?”

“Has she upgraded form unrequited love to secret girlfriend?” Marinette asked, eyebrow cocked as she leaned forward on her elbow.

“Something like that.” Adrien breathed tiredly. “According to Nino the girls have been asking none stop questions and the story just keep growing.”

“Growing how?” Colin asked, eyes narrowing.

“Well, for one she’s been referring to him exclusively as Dami-Bear.”

“Wow.” Damian stabbed at his salad again. “I hate that.” he shoved it into his mouth.

“And she also told a very long and dramatized story about the two of you in Grease last summer.” Adrien glanced to Colin and then Damian before his eyes landed on his tray of food. “Nino didn’t repeat verbatim, but it apparently wasn’t really family friendly.”

“Oh I’m gonna break her nose.” Chloé jumped when Colin’s fork snapped in half.

“Blood pressure darling.” Damian quipped, receiving only the dirtiest of looks from his boyfriend.

“It could be worse.” Jon held up his hand, like he was trying to calm Colin from across the table. “She could be posting this stuff online or something, at least it’s contained to their class, right?”

“I don't know.” Marinette hummed. “She’s got a lot of followers in school, not just our class.” She looked down at her food, brows knitted together. “Dames, you have international coverage, right?”

“That might just be the dumbest question you’ve ever asked me.”

The bluenette rolled her eyes. “Can I texted some friends from your phone?” She asked dryly. Damian only shrugged, gesturing across the table to Colin who still had the smartphone. The boy was quick to pass it over.

UNKNOWN: You arent gonna believe this

New Contact: ???

New Contact: who?

UNKNOWN: Its Marinette.

UNKNOWN: dont freak out

UNKNOWN: but Im textng from Damian Wayne’s Phone

Marinette held out the phone, leaning close to Damian and smiled wide. The boy looked up at his phone, camera app open and focusing on him and his cousin. His face remained expressionless but he held up a simple peace sign as she snapped the photo. Marinette then quickly sent it off to the number she was texting.

UNKNOWN: proof

New Contact: GIRL?!?!?!

New Contact: WTF!?!!?

_______________________________________________________________________

(part 1) (part 2) (part 2.5) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) - Here (part 10)

Photoshoot Part 2! I don’t know why I thought I could fit this all into one part. Like seriously, what was I thinking? I also miss calculated how long these three sections would be, the next Incredibles Cameo will be in the next part for sure. Writing has been kind of hard this week but my mind has been racing with ideas. So buckle up y’all cause there are now some big plot twists that have wormed their way into my mind and have been embedded in this fic. I’ll be curious to see if anyone can see them coming ;) Thank you all so much for the comments! They always make me smile and get me motivated to write more! As always if you have any questions about the story or AU feel free to ask, I love getting them and will happily answer any question you got! And if you want to be tagged let me know!

Can y’all guess who Mari is texting?

@graduatedmelon @northernbluetongue @violatiger8 @bamagirl513 @vixen-uchiha @beaversuenightly @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @todaylillypads @laurakinneylance @vgirl-10123 @wellcrud-blog-blog @silvergold-swirl @crazylittlemunchkin @an-ahez @queencommonsense @ladybug-182 @meganemily231 @driftingmoonlitpetals @kand-roo @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @theatreandcomicfreak @paradoxal-occurance @miraculousl4dybug @thanks-captain-obvious @sassydepression @multishipper1needshalp @wegan97 @surprisebishhhhhhhhh @redscarlet95 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @synnesstra @fandomkitty8 @tired-yeetling @saluteswifties @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dast218 @naclychilli @royalchaoticfangirl @panda3506 @nataladriana9 @shreky-boi @my-name-is-michell @dawnwave16

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