#kiosk ensemble | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

karasimpno · 4 years ago

Text

{Day 14} Take It Like a Man | Daichi x Reader

Pairing: Sawamura Daichi x Gn!Reader

Genre: fluff, cheering up your adoring boyfriend

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: None I don’t think! One (1) shirtless Daichi :)

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

That’s the best part: the outside is new, but now it reflects what’s already in you. Couldn’t change that if I wanted to. —Take It Like a Man; Legally Blonde: The Musical (music and lyrics by Laurence O'Keefe and Nell Benjamin)

Daichi had never needed a suit.

He got into the police academy right out of high school, and from the training through his required duties, all he ever needed was his uniform.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to dress – he could always muster together a pair of slacks or a nice sweater on date nights. He just never went out of his way to buy really nice things, let alone nice clothes for himself.

So as he began the arduous task of grappling with mounting issues within the force and mulling over whether to pursue a career change, you wanted to do something nice for him.

“Y/n, c’mon, where are we going babe?” Daichi asked, grinning as you tightened your grip around his bicep. Your laugh was light, bouncing off the walls of the mall you were walking through. Your boyfriend had been so closed off recently with the stress of work and job hunting, it brought a smile to your face just to see him loosening up.

“Just trust me, Dai. I wanted to do something special for you. C’mon!” you encouraged, tugging him around the corner to—

“What’s this?” he asked, facing the entrance to the large department store in confusion.

“We’re going shopping!” you sing-songed, lacing your fingers with his and tugging as you stepped from the polished cement of the shopping mall over to the bright white tiles of the department store. The change in atmosphere was evident: you were met with harsh halogen lights overhead and the overwhelmingly pure oxygen being pumped in through the vents of the pristine entryway.

“I—baby, shopping? I don’t—” he protested with a playful grimace. You were quick to shush him, taking his other hand in yours so that you held them both, facing him and meeting his dark chocolate irises.

“Take a deep breath,” you told him.

“I—”

You squeezed his hands to show him you were serious. With a grin he half-rolled his eyes and fluttered them shut, taking in and releasing an inhale that was more of a sigh. His calloused hands engulfed yours, and you delighted in their warmth.

“Love?” a sultry voice interrupted Daichi’s train of thought. Blinking his eyes back open, he was met with the sight of a woman presenting a perfume bottle between the two of your connected arms.

“Sorry?” he asked, his brows pulling together with a wrinkle as you did your best to repress a grin. Has he never been in a department store before? you wondered.

“Love,” she said again, offering a spritz of the liquid in the air between the two of you. It smelled overwhelmingly of roses and you fought back a cough from its pungency. “The new fragrance from Chanel,” she offered alluringly.

“Ah, no thank you,” Daichi responded with a polite smile and a single firm nod. The woman slinked away, hips swishing enticingly with her eyes still on Daichi, but all his focus was on you. “I already have all the love I need,” he said with a playful smirk. You grinned back at him and felt abruptly warm under his gaze when his hands squeezed yours. You were reminded of the strength and safety of your boyfriend’s arms and pressed yourself against his chest momentarily, wrapping your arms around his neck. You felt his arms pull you in closer and you melted a little, seeing an unmistakable warmth in his eyes. He was just so in love with you, and even being dragged around a shopping mall was worth it if it meant being by your side.

“Look,” you sighed, feeling your heartbeat slow and sync up with his as you pulled away slightly and gently traced your fingers up and down his toned bicep. At home you would have rested your forehead against his and just stayed there.

“I know how hard things have been lately,” you continued. “With the police force and everything I...I just wanted to do something nice for you. Let me do this one thing for you,” his face grew impossibly softer and you knew he wouldn’t say no to you. “I want you to have some nice clothes—a suit—” you corrected, “that you can be proud of yourself in,” you pressed gently, running your hands soothingly across his collarbones, over his shoulders and down his arms. He wouldn’t articulate it, but this meant a lot to him. It wasn’t that Daichi didn’t think he deserved people doing nice things for him, he was just so used to being there for others, supporting them and being their foundation, that it often took him by surprise when someone went out of their way to notice and do something for him. He raised one of your hands up to his lips and pressed a firm kiss to your knuckles.

“Okay baby,” he whispered with a smile. Your smile was twice as bright and you quickly laced your fingers with his.

“C’mon then!” you encouraged playfully, pulling him alongside you to the men’s section. Selfishly, you smiled to yourself upon seeing the racks of woolen polyester blends and manicured lapels. The old saying really was true - suits were their own lingerie of sorts for men.

“Okay,” you said with a smile as you pulled him into the middle of the sea of navys and blacks. “We can try on the jackets out here to get a sense of what kind of style you like, then we can choose a whole ensemble based on that!” Daichi looked at you with a loving sense of bewilderment. You amused him endlessly. “So just grab something that catches your eye!” you told him, beginning to dive into one of the racks. Daichi chuckled softly and began paging through a rack of his own. His back turned to you, you held up a wine-dark purple suit jacket that had caught your eye almost immediately. He turned to you with a nondescript, low-cut dark grey blazer in hand, an amused smirk on his face at what he saw in yours.

“That, I don’t love,” he said pointedly. You narrowed your eyes playfully at his aversion and your mind began to turn.

“That’s really nice, Daichi!” you encouraged his selection, still not returning yours to the rack.

“C’mon,” he pushed, walking over to show off how much better he looked in the grey, slipping it over his shoulders—and God did he look good. “This is more my style,” he said��and he had a point. “That feels like something Suga would wear,” he said, referencing the purple fabric in your hand. “He’s gotten so... I dunno, dapper lately,” he mused, trailing off as he turned slowly, modeling the jacket for you.

“Okay you’re right,” you smiled, quickly putting the jacket back in the rack and resisting the urge to run your hands over his strong back, accentuated by the pleats in the suit jacket. You sighed. His hands found yours again and you were instantly charmed by his smile.

“Okay, grab that pair of pants,” you said, eyeing a slim cut in the same color that would flatter his thighs and accentuate his stature, “and a white collared shirt and....I’ll meet you in the dressing room,” you said with a grin and a wink. Daichi held back a chuckle, shaking his head at you and obediently following your orders. Surreptitiously, as he started walking off, you grabbed the matching wine-dark purple vest from the suit jacket you had been eyeing and marched over to the dressing room, picking up a understated striped amethyst tie on your way over.

There was no one attending the dressing room kiosk—it was practically dead on a Tuesday afternoon—so you quickly slipped into the hall, eyes landing on the only closed door. Finding it slightly ajar, you slid in to find Daichi with his shirt coming over his head.

“Hey!” he said in surprise, half-covering himself with the removed shirt. His rippling form was still easily visible and you smirked, leaving the vest and tie on a hook.

“Hey yourself,” you said, lowering his raised hands to reveal more of his chest, your nose getting right up in his face. “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before,” you winked. “Don’t forget these,” you told him, quickly stepping towards the door. He eyed the purple fabric skeptically; it was certainly a departure from his usual uniform or bland business casual in the alternative, but you had a good feeling about the pop of color and his skin tone. Daichi sighed, unable to resist your smile as you eased out of the stall. He decided he was going to humor you.

After a few more silent moments broken only by the shuffling of fabric, you heard Daichi’s voice softly from inside.

“Okay this is...” he opened the door, making you inhale sharply. The pants fit him perfectly, snug over his muscular thighs and cutting straight down to the floor. The white collared shirt popped against his the color of his skin as the charcoal grey brought a handsome elegance to his appearance. And the pop of color—you were absolutely right. He was glowing. And the best part was, he didn’t even know it.

“Y/n...you’re staring,” he poked. You laughed at yourself, giving him space to walk out of the dressing room. You busied yourself with doing the tie that laid undone over his chest, focusing your eyes on the material to avoid the heat in your face. Feeling his breath ghost over your skin, you forced back a grin and stepped away to admire your work, trailing your fingertips down his chest.

He glanced down at the tag on the inside of the jacket.

“Holy—Y/n, is this the price?” he asked disparagingly. You quickly swatted the tag out of his hands.

“Hey, don’t worry about that. I’m getting this,” he opened his mouth to protest but you quickly slid your palm over his eyes, using your other hand to guide his shoulder away from you and down the hallway.

“C’mere, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” you whispered in his ear as you led him past the other dressing rooms to the floor-length tri-fold mirror at the end of the hall.

“You ready?” you asked, resting your chin on his broad shoulder. He sighed and muttered something about “...as I’ll ever be.” Your heart jumped a little and you pressed a kiss to the seam at his shoulder, sliding your hand away from his eyes and letting both hands land on his hips. You were unwilling to pull away from him in his moment of vulnerability.

The reaction was clear on his face. His jaw dropped a little, almost going slack as his eyes widened and took in his reflection that even he had to admit looked rather dashing. The suit clung to his form and brought out his wide chest, his strong hips and legs. The V of the jacket accentuated the natural musculature of his body and the hints of purple just put him all together.

“Woah,” he breathed, his eyebrows furrowing. “I look.... I look like Kuroo,” he teased. The corner of his mouth twitched but his eyes stayed locked on his form in the mirror. It was true, he had the outward appearance of the businessman who came to your shared home for dinners sometimes.

“But...it’s just me,” he said, and you squeezed him tighter for taking the words right out of your mouth. He began to turn his head back to you, his eyes seeking out your face as he tried to wriggle from the discomfort of being on display like this. But you held his hips firm.

“That’s the best part,” your voice softened. He swallowed, meeting your eyes in the mirror as you brought your chin back to rest on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist. He was absolutely stunning, the formal attire giving him a new glow.

“The outside is new and beautiful. But now it only reflects what was already there. Nothing changed, it just brings out the man I love. The man I always see—and I would never want to change that,” you told him softly.

His hands came up to squeeze yours and he turned in your arms. You beamed up at him and he took your cheek in one hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He meant it.

“No, thank you,” you said. “This is for agreeing to get lunch with me that one day so long ago and for letting me into your life. I love you.” “I love you too,” he smiled, beginning to walk back to the dressing room.

“Oh and there’s one other perk,” you said flippantly.

“What’s that?” he returned with a smirk.

“You look really hot,” you winked. He hooked an arm around your waist and pressed his lips fully against yours. He was so in love with you and couldn’t believe you were his. And you hadn’t even gotten to the shoes and belt yet!

A/n: THIS ONE’S FOR ALL MY DAICHI-LOVIN HOES!!!! @starshaped-raindrops this is what I was on about the other day. And thank u to @ceo-of-daichi for encouraging my Daichi love in the first place I love y’all!!! This is such a fun song and it always puts a smile on my face. Fun fact: originally we had Daichi for Perfectly Marvelous and Akaashi on this one but it just made SO much more sense to switch the two. Hope you enjoyed!!! Thanks for reading:)

Taglist: @izagraceee @musicgetsmeoutofbed @azo-musxas @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp @starshaped-raindrops

#daichi #sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #daichi fluff #sawamura daichi x reader #elle writes #25 days of ficmas

96 notes · View notes

wordynerdygurl · 5 years ago

Text

Sticky, Sweet

Author’s Note: I’m so pleased to tell you that this is the first of my 1000 Followers Requests! Again, how do 1000 people like me enough to read my words? I don’t know!! But I love you all! Also, bless my beta - @sammy-jo1977 ... she lets me drag her to hell and back, and goes willingly. Lots of Love, lady! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader, appearances from many of the Avengers Tower residents Summary: This was requested by the amazing, adorable and always supportive @alexakeyloveloki ... As I hit my milestone, she was having a birthday, and this, I hope will be a gift she’ll enjoy. You deserve it girl! The request was: One with Loki and a Curvy Reader where she works in the Tower, maybe the canteen, and people are mean to her and Loki likes her for some odd reason and... smut ensues. I did make some changes, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way, @alexakeyloveloki !! Warnings: This one might give you a toothache! There’s smut, but it’s sweet!

“Uh, yes. Might I trouble you for a chocolate croissant and… a cappuccino, large, please.”

You knew the owner of that voice without raising your eyes. Today he was wearing charcoal grey slacks with straight creases all the way down. A shirt, starched, bright white, with rolled back sleeves revealing the articulate length of his forearms. All of his dark locks were gathered over his open collar in a low man bun, which is something you had laughed at other men for doing. Somehow, the tall, trim man in front of you was making it work in a way that made your mouth water.

Flashing him a megawatt smile, full of promise, “My pleasure! Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No. Thank you, though.”, warm and caramel sweet, his response made you melt.

Clearing your throat, struggling to maintain some sense of composure, “A name… for the order?”

“Loki… that’s L, O, K, I…”, his own grin widening at the request.

You knew his name. He’d been coming to your little dessert cart for months now and every time you asked, just like you did for all of your customers. And each time he spelled out the letters for you, as if you were taking his order for the first time. Handing back change only for him to drop it into the tip jar, you let your eyes linger over Loki just a moment more, enjoying the view.

Most of the visitors to Avengers Tower paid you little to no attention. Outside of offering a cup of joe and a giant cookie, you had no bearing on the day to day business of the super hero syndicate, and that was just fine by you. Everyone else? They all had important things to do. Meetings and appointments were near constant as apparently saving the world took a lot of planning. And, thankfully, a lot of coffee, danish and muffins.

Of all your customers, the actual, swear to God heroes were the most colorful. They were also the most loyal of your clients, stopping in at least daily, although, there were occasions where you would see Wanda two or three times in a day. Especially if you had made those little mille-feuille stacks that reminded her of home.

Thor would buy out your stash of jelly donuts, to the chagrin of the office workers in line behind him, but then divvy them up as a way of apologizing. Ms. Romanoff had a tendency to whisper her order, lest anyone realize her secret desire for a sinfully sweet White Chocolate Mocha with whipped cream. Captain Rogers? His routine was the most straight-forward. Black coffee, ma’am, Blueberry muffin, thank you so much.

Loki, from the start, had been different. Unlike Mr. Stark, Loki looked you in the eye when placing his order. He never seemed distracted by the technology buzzing around or the high ranking officials clustered in these hallowed halls. Loki also didn’t order 12 shots of espresso, steamed skim milk, no foam, and one donut hole. No, that was Tony to a t.

But Loki? This giant guy, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, always ordered your daily special. Frilly pink cupcakes, jam filled eclairs, fruity hand pies, Loki had tasted them all. And he still turned up, day after day, eager and kind. That had to mean something, right?

Honestly, it was the pinnacle of your day when, looking up from the grinder, you’d see him towering majestically over the office drones all in a row. Knowing that smooth voice would soon be speaking to you, even if it was just to get a snack on the run, was almost enough. Almost.

Letting your gaze linger after Loki’s retreating figure, you got lost in a daydream, one where you were making Loki coffee in your kitchen. His lengthy legs tucked under your tiny table, a tray of fresh cookies in front of him as he read, sometimes with his shirt on… sometimes without. Feeling your cheeks warm up at the image, you shook your head, ready to refocus on the caffeine craving customers still in line.

As closing time drew near, you began the daily task of cleaning up your cart. Sweeping, wiping, sterilizing, washing, drying. There was a rhythm to it all and you often found yourself entrained in the work, as usually there were few distractions at this time of day.

“Excuse me?”

Spinning, surprised, you barely kept hold of the carafe in your hands as you spotted Ms. Pepper Potts standing at your kiosk, “Oh gosh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

Waving away your worry, Pepper took a moment to introduce herself properly before getting down to business, “I was wondering if you had ever considered catering before? You were highly recommended by a colleague and I am looking for assistance with an event we're hosting in a few weeks. What I really need is someone to help with an after hours sort of thing.”

Your heart leapt in your chest, thumping wildly, threatening to bust out of your chest. Now, you’d be lying if you said that expanding your business wasn’t part of the dream. Always hopeful that your little cafe cart could somehow be expanded into a little sweet shop or bistro bakery, you had been hard at work for the last two years, slinging lattes and refining recipes until the right moment arrived.

When you said as much to Ms. Potts, her gracious smile lit up, “Then this, my friend, is that moment.”

Details were exchanged, pricing negotiated, plans put in place. In ten days you were going to be providing The Avengers and their guests with pastries, cookies, coffee and tea. There was a select menu so that you wouldn't be running around like crazy, which would make prep time easy, but Pepper had told you to be creative. In short, you were getting your shot and the excitement of that put you on cloud nine.

As you had arranged with Ms. Potts, while the guests attended one of Mr. Stark’s lavish galas downtown, you were given access to the Avengers Suite near the top floors of the tower. Seeing the building, well past your normal 5:00 pm, was energizing. Getting to sneak a peek at where the most important people working here spent their days was overwhelming, but you were giddy at the prospect.

In a sweet spot, just inside the expansive glass doors which led to the sky rise patio, you set up your display. Feeling pretty proud of yourself, you only had to wait a few minutes before the elevator dinged on the first arrivals, including the host and hostess for the night. "Here we go!", whispering to yourself, you took an anxiously excited breath.

It was hard not to get wrapped up in the glitz of it all. Tony Stark, wearing a plum colored tuxedo, had his Rolex draped arm around Pepper. She was stunning in her black column gown, purple jewels at her throat and ears, the perfect counterpoint to Tony’s ensemble. You struggled not to stare.

More people filtered in, some went to the bar, where champagne popped regularly. A few grabbed frosty glasses of fresh beer. And for a time you thought you were invisible among all the glamour around you. Honestly, you were surrounded by the type of people who graced magazine covers and had in depth chats with Oprah. That wasn’t you by a long shot.

Then, of course was the difference in your shape and size compared to the elegant group assembled for the evening. You certainly weren’t as stately as Ms. Potts, nor as thin as Ms. Romanoff because she was trimmer in hip and bust. Carol, stately and graceful, was a sheet of well hewed muscle. All of them shone tonight, regal and lovely, while you wore your best black pants and white button down, the uniform of catering professionals world wide.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, temping your coffee pot, your mind churned. There was no shaking the idea that even though you had been invited here, hired to be here, you were woefully out of place. And just as your confidence was at its lowest, you heard it… or rather, him.

"Um… yes. May I have… well… I don't know what to have. Normally you have something special prepared."

Even over the din of chatter and softly played music you heard his baritone register. A little flustered, disarmingly charming, Loki’s buttercream smile triggered your own. Laughing, lifting a small tray towards Loki, "I am keeping it simple tonight. These here are individual peach melba pies, topped with homemade whipped cream."

"And, what’s that?" Looking like a little kid, ready to tear into a birthday present, Loki's face lit up with anticipation of what you might be hiding under the cover of a chafing dish.

"Mocha mini-cheesecakes, or-" Here you lifted the silver lid of your best party dish, "-my grandmother's chocolate chip cookies! What would you like, Loki?"

Hearing his name in your lilting voice, Loki couldn't avoid the hot blush that rolled over him, turning his cheeks pink. As if your delicious snacks weren't enticing enough, the way your shirt buttons could barely contain the bounty of your bosom made Loki's hunger real in a different way. It was true that Thor had plied him with a great deal of Asgardian mead at the gala, even as the others drank up the less potent Midgardian spirits, all getting well past tipsy.

And maybe that's why he felt so bold, flirting with you casually, teasing you about your treats. Also, he was shamelessly ogling your rounded ass in those tight black pants as you bent to retrieve a napkin. Deep down, Loki longed to know if you tasted as sweet as your sugary confections. Would you be slick like syrup? Sticky like cinnamon buns? Dark and delicious like chocolate fudge?

Shaking those long locks, which you couldn't help noticing were down and free tonight, Loki was struggling to decide among your snacks. If his thoughts were lustful, your own weren't too far behind, because it was hard not to appreciate the fine figure in front of you. At some point Loki had shucked his tuxedo jacket and the slim black bow tie that accompanied it. Again his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows making him casual and cool, red cheeked and rambunctious. Never had Loki seemed so at ease.

There was virtually no one else around, most of the remaining people were clustered by Clint at the piano singing show tunes, oblivious to you and Loki. Looking from left to right, leaning in conspiratorially, "Ya know… I could let you have one of each, then you wouldn't have to decide."

Those dark brows arching, bright eyes smiling shrewdly, "You'd do that… for me?"

“That and more.” It tumbled out of your mouth unbidden, your eyes widening in surprise at your own admission.

Leaning against your table, a lascivious smile on his face, “Do tell.”

And in the low light of the Avengers’ loft, with the soft smell of sugar filling the air, you felt yourself drawn to Loki’s aura. Biting into your bottom lip, looking at him through your thick lashes, “Um… well… I could make you a little snack bag. Ya know for later tonight…”

“Later tonight… I really like the sound of that.” And to his unending surprise, Loki really did. Maybe he’d find out about your favorite flavors in the dark of night, under the covers in his bed. And if not, if he was somehow mistaken about your interest in him, then Loki would welcome some little cake that would make him think of you while he sat in his solitary room, brooding over you.

He shouldn’t have worried. Genuinely smiling, Loki was beyond grateful to see the same look of desire reflected in your own face. As you busied yourself packing up the little box of selected snacks for the sweet toothed stud, a voice called out, "Lokes!! Get over here!! Thor says you can dance and I need proof!"

Wavering slightly, Loki ducked his head in the direction of Sam Wilson's shout, not entirely eager to end your chat. He was worried that somehow the sugar spun bubble you two were in would burst, and that, well that just couldn't happen. Conspiratorially, invading your space across the narrow table, "I will be back. Please, don't go away?"

Feeling like a movie heroine, you felt yourself nod, giggling a little at the spectacle of Loki's clear need. In the glimmering low-lights, under the clink of champagne flutes and husky hum of conversations, Loki wanted to spend his time with you. It was surreal and surprising, but you wanted him too. There was no shame in that, right?

Glued to the spot, feet unmoving, Loki wouldn't leave until you said, "Go on, then. Show me what you've got. I'll be right here."

With a cocky grin, Loki loped toward the waiting circle of people and the makeshift dance floor. Tinny, tinkling piano music was replaced by electronica, pumping through Tony's beyond state of the art sound system. It felt like you were inside the speaker, thumping and bumping, in time with the dance hall beat.

What a sight! You guessed it shouldn't have been so surprising, but seeing Loki, normally so reserved in your daily interactions, grinding and bouncing to the rhythm… it made you feel things. Pulse pounding, deep sighing, clenching your muscles things. Sexy things.

You could have stood there, enchanted from afar, for hours. And you would have too, if Thor hadn't stumbled to your stand, nearly toppling the table with his unsteady bulk, "Oof! A thousand apologies, my dear sweet bakery maiden."

Diverting your attention, you quickly stepped back into vendor mode, "No trouble! No trouble at all! What can I get for you?"

"Well, I have been wondering, what did my brother get a taste of that made him smile so wide? It must have been a truly delicious nibble." Thor, mimicking a mouse nibbling at cheese, was clearly past the point of sobriety.

Turning thoughtful for a second, you realized Loki hadn't eaten anything of yours tonight… at least not yet. So it had been your easy back and forth that made the frosty boy happy. Smiling secretively, suddenly supremely pleased, "Um… I have some special items this evening. Would you like to try a peach pie?"

Blowing a raspberry, rolling his eyes, "Did Loki like it?"

"He hasn't tried it yet! You'd be first!" Trying to redirect the sloshed slab of man in front of you, offering the pastry up on a dainty napkin, it’s funny how quickly he snatches it from your hand. Looking tiny in Thor's enormous paw, he devours it whole, swiping at the leftover crumbs on his chest.

"Delicious! Another!" Even shouting, Thor's voice doesn't crack through the party goers busting their moves. Sighing, you hand over another, only to watch it be gulped down without thought or consideration.

Spitting crust at you, Thor bows over the display you painstakingly built to showcase your wares, his weight making the table creak, "You know, my brother normally likes little women."

"Excuse me?"

Waving his hands, pontificating, "Small, shapely… you know the type! Waifs. Skinny, like him. Narrow hips and-" attempting to whisper, "-tiny breasts."

Clearly, Thor was hammered, you knew that. But what he was saying was just hard to hear. You didn’t want to be compared to other women Loki had known, and you certainly didn’t want to hear that they were prettier, or smaller, or skinnier than you. But your roller coaster ride of emotions was derailed when Thor slapped his hand on your table, making you jump.

"Now, you… you're a woman. Strong, sturdy. Could really ground him, you know? Give him children worthy of Valhalla."

In his stupor, Thor couldn't read the warning in your expression. Willing him to stop, shut up, go away with just your monosyllabic responses wasn't working. But, alas, the Space God continued on, "It's all your sweets, you know? Candy and cupcakes and… all those little… What do you call them? The circles, fried and filled with jam?"

Flat, without feeling, "Donuts."

"Donuts! Yes!" Pausing for a breath, which you hoped would last all night long, Thor caught your eye. "I approve. Of the match… that is. Loki has been alone too long. He needs a thick woman to warm his bed, a fair, faithful filly to take-"

Thor's voice cut out, a thin line of shimmering red glowing around his throat, stopping his words. You could still see his mouth moving but the sound was, thankfully, muted. It was then that Wanda slunk close to Norse God, wide orb-like eyes full of knowledge, "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

Mumbling, struggling to sound bright as you gave too much attention to arranging cookies on the tray, "It's ok."

Her delicate hand rested on your own, "No it isn't. Thor's a buffoon when he's downed too many bottles of mead. I hope he didn't say anything too… unpleasant."

Waving her off, working hard to regain your composure, "Naw… it's fine… Thank you, though."

Thor, shrugging off Wanda's limited charm, "What's the big idea? I was telling this lady that my brother likes her! Her ample bosom, her gracious bum… and he always talks about her tasty cakes!"

Steve, sidling up at the first sign of trouble, grabbed Thor's arm, "Come on buddy. Time for bed."

"But! I am not tired! I want more pie! And mead!"

Wanda, rolling her eyes, "May I have another? For the road?"

Quickly wrapping up a few of your crusty delicacies, you handed them over, now eager for the night to end. It seemed tarnished somehow, spoiled by Thor's observations, like an unrisen souffle. Glancing at the clock, you were amazed at the time! It was late even for a late night event and you began packing up regardless of the people still partying their evening away.

You were hoping for a quick departure. Seamless, silent, without distracting anyone, including a certain raven haired hottie. No one would notice if you snuck away now, you were sure, and you had already fulfilled your obligation to Pepper. In fact, with Thor's little outburst, you were well over your allotted time. And, you reasoned, Loki could find some small little twig, more to his taste, if you weren't there to distract him.

That thought made your throat burn and your eyes water as you quietly broke down your area. Even now you could see him, a head above everyone else, spinning with a smile on his face. Loki looked so at ease, you refused to be the wet blanket on his good time. Besides, flirting was one thing, but Loki wasn’t yours and you were old enough not to be crushed by a crush.

With one last, longing look over the assembled Avengers, you bumped your bottom into the exit door, shuffling toward the service elevator. As the doors closed, shutting out the jubilation inside, you slumped against the wall. How could you think Loki would want you?

Having spent a significant amount of the late evening busting a move, Loki had managed to keep one eye on you most of that time. Noticing Thor bumble your way, he was nervous about what his brother might say, but Natasha had challenged him to a dance off. How could he resist?

By the time Loki stopped to catch his breath and collect his cookies, you were gone. Vanished. The only trace of you? A small, golden box, stuffed with your divine delicacies. Loki needn't see the name scrolled on the label to know it was for him.

But like Cinderella, you had fled and Loki had no way to find you. Sinking his heart, Loki clutched the box, padding away to his room and the solitude of silence. At least he had your thoughtful gift of goodies to keep him company. It was almost enough. Almost.

For all the numerous things The Avengers were good at, it was a non-hero who observed Loki slide away, sad and silent. Never one to let a party end on a low note, a new plan was formed to unite the Trickster and the Treat Maker. But it would need time to rise, like decadent cinnamon rolls, and like those sticky sweet buns, would be totally worth the wait.

When Monday dawned, you loaded up your goods and trudged to work. For the first time since starting your business venture your heart wasn't in it. Not when you plated blueberry buckle with lavender scented whipped cream, not when you swirled almond milk into fresh brewed coffee, not when you bagged cheesy bagel bites.

And it was, apparently, to be a day of firsts. Because this was the only day that Loki failed to make an appearance at your stand since you’d opened. Thor, pushing people aside, had made a point of apologizing for his behavior. It was kind and honest, yet, hollow since it didn't make Loki materialize in your line. But you appreciated it, nonetheless.

Before long, the day was done, your cleaning ritual initiated, your mind wandering. That it circled back to a certain blue eyed mischief maker over and over wasn't shocking. Where had Loki been? Had you driven him off? Would he come back tomorrow?

"Ahem… Excuse me!"

Squealing, you dropped the tray you'd been wiping with a clanking clatter, "Miss Potts! You startled me!"

"I didn't mean to!", stooping to hand you back your platter, she lifted her smart eyes to yours.

"I know… I'm so sorry! I've been… a little off today."

Shrewd, searching, Pepper looked you over, "You're not the only one."

Laughing nervously, “Oh? Who else is having a tough Monday?”

“A friend… listen, I wanted to thank you for the other night. It was really wonderful having your exceptional snacks at the ready.”

Allowing yourself a small smile, nibbling your lip nervously, “The pleasure was all mine.”

Pepper, shifting on her high heels, “I’d like to hire you again.”

“Really?” Snapping your head up at the offer, you were a little surprised by her request. Even though that night hadn’t ended the way you had hoped, necking with Loki like a teenager after prom, it had still been a lucrative evening for your little start up company. But so soon?

“Yes! This is a smaller event. Actually, more of a date than anything. This Friday evening. Would you be free?”

Grabbing your phone, confirming the date on your calendar, “It works for me! What time were you thinking?”

Blinking, Pepper took a minute to contemplate before answering, “Let’s say seven. Upstairs, on the outdoor deck?”

“That sounds great, Ms. Potts! How many people are you expecting?”, making notes, head down you missed her gentle smile.

“Just two.”

That made you giggle. So, it was a night of romance with Tony she was after. Flashing your benefactor a knowing smirk, “Sounds lovely.”

“I hope it will be!”

You didn’t see Loki all week. There was rumor going around the tower that he was off on a mission somewhere, very hush, hush. Your limited intell was gained only because of Thor’s inability to lower his booming voice while waiting for a croissant on Tuesday morning.

It got easier. Not seeing him in your daily line, not giving him his cappuccino, not buttering his scone. By Friday you finally felt like Loki was out of your system, which was a good thing, because you knew Ms. Potts was expecting you to knock it out of the park tonight.

“Things are going to be a little different for this evening, if that’s ok. I thought you could set out your dessert courses here, on the counter, and we’d have someone bring them out to the patio area.”

Unafraid to go the extra mile, you were quick to volunteer, “I’d be more than happy to act as a server if-”

Talking over you, “Oh no, dear! I have someone for that already. Really, all you have to do is make sure your treats are in order.”

Slightly crestfallen, but always a good sport, you agreed. As she’d requested, you had prepared three special desserts for the night, hoping you covered all of Tony’s favorite flavors. First, lemon cake with a cracked sugar glaze and fresh raspberry sauce to garnish. Next would be the white chocolate cheesecake studded with plump blueberries and piles of fresh vanilla flavored whipped cream. Last, and perhaps most importantly, was your personal favorite, tiramisu. Simple, delicious, and perfect with a strong cup of espresso.

Clapping her hands, Pepper was so pleased at the thought you had put into each plate, “Wow, does this look amazing! There’s really only one other thing that we need for this.”

Wiping a stray stripe of sauce from the plate, a piping bag cupped in your hands, you lifted your head, “What’s that Ms. Potts?”

“Why, you of course.”

Stalling in midair, you slowly lowered the tool of your trade, wiping your sugary fingers on the seat of your jeans. “I’m right here! What can I do to help?”

Coming around the island now, Pepper drew close enough to take your hands in her own, “You’ve already done it. Tonight is my way of saying ‘Thank You’... and I hope you’ll accept a small gift as a token of my appreciation.”

As the last word hung in the air between you, the lift doors parted, and Loki stepped into the room.

Pepper had summoned him, asking only that he arrive on time and not “look a mess”. Since Loki had never been anything less than elegant in all things, he had no intention of breaking that streak this evening. If only he knew what to dress for?

So, he split the difference, going for casual cool. A jet black polo shirt, unbuttoned, clung to him like a second skin, caressing every muscle. Black trousers and a black belt made him look dangerously seductive as he sauntered closer with each step.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Missing Loki all week made seeing him like this stupefying. Fuzzy brained and dull minded, you weren’t capable of wrapping your head around what was happening.

“Pepper? What… what is all this?” Loki’s husky baritone questioned the set up, your presence, the pretense. At least you weren't the only one who was confused.

Pulling you along, Pepper maneuvered you next to him, “Loki, It’s all arranged. Dessert by candlelight, under the stars… FRIDAY, start my Date Night playlist.” The strains of “In the Still of the Night” by the Five Satins filled the air.

It was right then that Loki got it. The strange summons, the dress code, the secrecy. He knew why you were here, with your bespoke baked goods, looking like a snack yourself. Pepper had listened when Loki recommended you for the first gig, and somehow she had heard the unspoken recommendation of his heart. A rush of feeling flowed over him at the idea.

Looking sheepish and flustered, Loki caught your eye, “Hello.”

“Hi…”, bashful yourself, you struggled not to look too giddy.

“See, you’re already on your way. Have a good night kids!”

You and Loki stood there, staring, until the click of Pepper’s heels on the marble had faded away. This is awkward, you thought, unsure of what to do next. Here with the man you wanted, you weren’t entirely sure what to do, but luckily for you, Loki knew how to take charge, “Shall we?”

Lacing his fingers with yours, Loki led you to the open deck where a small bistro table was waiting, already set for the two of you. Pulling out your chair, Loki made sure you were comfortable before taking his own seat at your side, as opposed to across the table. It was a cozy and romantic scene.

The song shifted. Now The Platters crooned, “Only You”, and your hand was itching to grab Loki’s under the table. Before you could, Pepper’s hired server for the evening brought your first plate, and a bottle of Prosecco.

So far, neither of you had really spoken. Words seemed too difficult to use when the situation was so formal. And yet, it really was lovely of Ms. Potts to do this for you… and for Loki.

“Did you make all of this?”

Picking up your fork, giving Loki a small nod, “Yea… I thought Pepper was planning a date night with Tony. I had no idea that this… any of this… was happening. Did you?”

“No. But, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. She did hire you because of me.”

Taken aback by his admission, “Really? Care to elaborate?”

Tucking into the lemony piece of heaven in front of him, Loki closed his eyes in bliss, “Hmm… that is delicious. You are really so good at this! And that, my purveyor of pound cake, is what I told Ms. Potts.”

“Well, thank you! I mean, I knew you liked me!”

Hotter than opening your oven, a blast of heat swept over you, reddening your cheeks in shock. Flustered now, you could barely speak, cursing yourself for letting your real feelings slip out like that unfiltered. Mortified, you grabbed your glass, slugging half of it down in a second.

Loki’s fork froze, almost to his lips, as his own eyes widened. Sighing, he placed the utensil, covered in lemon and raspberry deliciousness down gently. Feeling his scorching gaze, you sat stock still, Loki’s wry whisper reaching you, “I do. And I should have told you that before… before Pepper had to go to such great lengths to prove it.”

“But Loki… I’m just… I’m not…” Stammering, you couldn’t quite find the best way to explain the reservations you had been carrying, the reasons Thor had so clearly defined.

“You are though. You are so kind hearted… to everyone. Even the dullards and bores. I hear you, you know? What you say, how you say it. No one leaves your little station without being complimented, enlightened, enriched. It is the best part of my day, coming down to see you… and taste whatever marzipan masterpiece you’ve graced us with.”

Starting to feel the bubbles of Prosecco in your brain, your lopsided smile spread at the emotion Loki expressed, “Loki… it’s the only thing that gets me through sometimes. Seeing you, knowing that you’re in line. And how cute you are when you spell out your name, like I haven’t written it a hundred times before.”

It was his turn to blush, “I knew that. I knew it was adorable.”

Playfully pushing against his shoulder, you chuckled, “Loki! That’s not fair!”

“Then you won’t like this, darling.”

Catching your arms in his firm hands, Loki tucked your body into his, finding your mouth as you laughed at his antics. Using his top lip to trap your own, Loki’s bottom lip gently parted, as the softness of his kiss blended into the lemon scented sweetness of his sigh. His tongue, probing slowly, pressed between your lips stealing a shaky breath for Loki to treasure.

Rising, Loki’s hands cradled your cheeks, ensuring that you couldn’t break away from his kiss. As if you wanted to! Your own hands wandered, with one resting on the warm slope of his wide thigh and the other pressed against Loki’s broad chest.

Deepening the kiss, you pushed forward, nestling between Loki’s spread legs. Trailing a hand along his hip, scooting closer, you moaned at the luscious texture of his tongue on your own. When Loki pulled back, you followed, unwilling to break the beautiful bond your mouths had sealed.

Swallowing hard, unable to believe that he was really here with the flavor of your candy kisses filling his senses, Loki shook his head. Seeing your own dazed expression made his heart soar. He was going to have to write Pepper a thank you note or have you bake her a cake, because this was the best thing that had ever happened to the Prince of Asgard.

“Are you ready for the next course?” The server, having popped out of the compound, was struggling to hide his own smug smile at the sexy little show you two had put on.

A new song started, the notes drifting through the air, making you smile. Sam Cooke’s eternally youthful voice sang, “Cupid… draw back your bow…” and Loki slowly stood. “Uh, please, hold the next one, if you don’t mind.”

Coming around behind you, offering you his hand, “Loki? What are you doing?”

“What I should have done last week… Ask you to dance…?” Voice brimming with hope, Loki quirked an eyebrow, anticipating your acceptance.

“About time.”

Rumbling through Loki’s solid torso, his laugh greeted you as you fell into his arms easily, chuckling yourself. It was so familiar and yet so different. His hands rested over the curve of your back, pulling you tighter, controlling the sway of your hips. Circling the delicate strength of his neck, your fingers teasing into those long locks of tousled hair, you let Loki take the lead.

Tipping you back, over balancing you but still in control, Loki’s look was pure lust, “I apologize for running late. I should have-”

Cutting in, husking into the shell of Loki’s ear, “Don’t. We’re here now. And besides, you were worth the wait.”

Squeezing you, putting every ounce of feeling into his hug, Loki found it hard to loosen his grip. Now that he had the thing he wanted, he never wanted to be separated from it… you… ever again.

Twirling you out, tugging you back in, as the song came to its close, Loki took the opportunity of dipping you low enough for your head to graze the ground below. Breathless and giddy, you were lifted back to standing, clinging to the demi God before you. Parting your lips, anticipating another of Loki’s kisses, your eyes fluttering closed, “Sir? Madame?”

Shifting his focus from your glossy, eager mouth to the server once more, Loki’s own giggle shining in his face, “My good man, please… just pack it all up! We’re not staying.”

“We’re not?” A hint of surprise colored your tone as you took in the ecstatic look on Loki’s face.

Nodding at you, “Nope.”

Waiting only a moment or two for a bag stuffed full of your goodies, Loki slung it over this wrist before taking your hand and leading you through the Tower’s maze of floors. Of course, he stopped at almost every corner to sneak a peck, pat your tush or cage you against the wall so that his hips were flush against your own as he licked the soft spot under your ear.

“Hmmm… Loki… That feels so good.” Mewling softly, your nails scratching into his scalp, as he swung open the door to his room.

Ushering you inside, Loki paused only to set his blistering, needy eyes on you once more, “We are not children, you and I. If you want to wait, I will be patient… but, believe me, my darling little patisserie, when I say this: I want you. I want to devour you… I want to know if you’re as sweet as strawberry shortcake or tart like key lime pie.

“I need to see if you-” here he swallowed so hard his Adam’s Apple bobbed, “-sigh when I kiss you the same way you do when you slide a hot cup of tea over the counter. Or how you’ll sound when you call my name in ecstasy. Because I’ve already thought about these things a hundred times over. While I wait in line for a moment of your attention or when I taste those lovely delicacies, you fill my thoughts.

“Do you always smell of vanilla and butter, I wonder. Will my sheets be scented with marshmallow and marzipan? Almond and cherry?”

Advancing on you now, hunger heating his look, “But just know, little one, if you do come to my bed, I will make sure it’s the last one you’ll ever need.”

Stepping closer, baiting the bear in him, you bit into your bottom lip, “Are you saying that everyone will know I belong to you… L, O, K, I… Loki?”

“My sweet, sweet thing. That is exactly what I mean.”

In a flurry of movement, Loki swept you against his kitchen table, the wood strong and sturdy behind you. Kisses, hot and happy melted you like butter, as Loki spread your legs to stand between them. When you heard the sound of paper crumpling, “What’s that?”

“Oh! Our to-go bag! Your luscious desserts!” Sounding slightly panicked, Loki quickly removed the items from inside the bag, before turning to you with a look that said trouble.

“What? What’s that face?”

“I’ve told you how much I fancy your food… and now you know how much I adore you... “

“Uh huh…”, still unsure about where this was going, your eyes followed Loki as he pulled your tub of whipped cream from the ruined sack. Snapping off the lid, his long finger scooping out a big glob, only for Loki to brush the airy confection over your mouth.

Licking the cream from your lips, Loki tongued the seam of your pretty pout, moaning at the burst of vanilla he tasted there, “I don’t know what’s more delicious, your frothy garnish or this mouth.”

“What if I want some, huh?” Grabbing at Loki’s finger, the one he’d used to snag the sample with, you pulled it into the warm inlet of your mouth, sucking lightly.

Growling low in his throat at the erotic scene before him, Loki issued a command, “Bedroom. Now.”

Sliding off the table, right into Loki’s space, “Bring the whipped cream though, ok?”

Clothes were shed in a rush. Each piece unveiling soft skin and new places to explore, reminding you of a creme brulee’s hardened caramel layer. The way you crack it open, revealing the cool custard beneath the scorched sugar crust, a gift unwrapped for all your senses.

By the time Loki lowered you onto his bed, he had already sampled swatches of your skin, leaving behind the marks of his possession. His hands never seemed to stop. First they were dusting over your shoulders, then across your thighs, next on your generous bottom, squeezing hard.

Sighing in contentment, you closed your eyes, lost in the moment of making love to Loki. As he lay down over you, the press of his rigid planes met the soft curves of your figure, you wrapped yourself around him. Tangling those rich, dark locks in your hand, forcing your mouths together, panting with shared passion.

Connecting with his hip, you slid your palm over the rise of his bottom, squeezing just a little, “You know, you have a great ass, right?”

Sucking against the ridge of your clavicle, Loki kissed over your jaw, “I do?”

“Oh yea… I watch you walk away everyday thinking, damn. That ass.”

Brushing stray strands from your face, “That’s funny, because I think the same thing every time you bend over to get those little swizzle sticks for stirring coffee!”

Setting off a fit of giggles, the pair of you with arms and legs akimbo, laughed like children. There was something so freeing about being naked and comfortable with the man beside you. Quieting only when you heard the pop of the frosting bowl's lid coming off, you sucked in a breath as Loki lowered his lips to your waiting nipple.

Playful and pleasing, he released you just long enough to sit back on his heels, surveying the state of you. "Now, It's my turn."

"Your turn to what, exactly?"

"Decorate!" Producing an assortment of sprinkles and frosting, sanding sugars and coconut shreds, caramel sauce and raspberry coulis as if from thin air, Loki grinned at you wickedly before setting to work.

For every place that was home to a dollop of icing or a squirt of sauce you were licked, nibbled, nuzzled or bitten. As Loki worked lower, you squirmed in anticipation, as your pastry chef in training sucked your inner thigh free of chocolate fudge. Before you could prepare, Loki's tongue parted your slippery center, making you call out, "Oh! Yes, Loki!"

Parting your swollen sex, circling your stiffened bud, Loki lapped at your sensitive skin gently. His fingers, long and reaching, stroked into your sticky channel, stretching you sweetly. Rocking against Loki's oral affections, the beginning of bliss burning in your belly, you gripped him tightly seeking release.

For his part, Loki needed no encouragement. Bringing you to the pinnacle, alternately sipping at your slick core, and sucking on your sweet pearl was making Loki ache with want. Even when you pulled at his onyx locks, inner thighs trembling, struggling to stave off your peaking pleasure, Loki only worked harder, "Don't hold back. We've already wasted too much time!"

"Uh huh… um… shit… Loki…" mumbling was the most you could do as you felt a third finger enter you, widening you, readying you. It was enough. Cumming hard against him, stiffening and then softening like taffy, you gave yourself over to the pleasure Loki provided.

Smacking his lips lewdly, licking his fingers, "I knew it… I knew you'd be delectable."

Grinning broadly, happy and satisfied, "Am I gonna get a taste? You're not the only one with a sweet tooth, ya know!"

"Only when I've had my fill… and I'm not close to being finished, darling!"

Sticky, sweet and satiated, you and Loki lay in each other's arms smiling. He'd asked about a gift for Pepper and you were already planning a cupcake basket for your matchmaking mentor. You had just licked the last of your lemon curd from his abs, curling into his side, "I need a shower."

"Oh, yes! Let's do that!" Rising, dragging you with him, Loki could picture you under the steaming water, begging him to please you. He liked that idea!

"And after…"

Pausing to look at you, "After?"

"Can you find me something salty to snack on… ya know, for a change?"

Pressing a kiss to your hand, Loki flashed you that megawatt smile, "Absolutely, darling. Absolutely."

My Minxes: @alexakeyloveloki @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatilie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

#loki x reader #loki x you #hot loki #loki smut #loki love #mcu smut #MCU fanfiction #loki fanfiction #1000 followers

308 notes · View notes

daydreamed-snippets · 4 years ago

Text

The bell above the entryway jingles as someone slips through the door. Looking up from their work, basting a hem in a customer’s pair of trousers, the villain freezes.

In the threshold of their store stands their nemesis’ young sidekick. Dressed in unassuming civilian clothing, they stroll in and begin to poke around the front displays of fitted ensembles, single and double-breasted suits, fine gowns, and the like.

The villain sits there for a minute. Willing themselves to blink, to swallow, or to move their fingers along the soft trouser fabric. Something to start up their heart that stopped dead at the sight.

It is the movement of a stack of neckties, knocked over by the sidekick that did the trick.

Obliging, their heart roars to life, hammering a threatening beat. Adrenaline dumps into their system like a drug as they flip up the presser foot on their industrial sewing machine, and slide their chair back. They flounder for the long metal bar they secured to the underside of their sewing table. Their powers teeming to life, ready to call specific metals they’d hidden throughout the back of the store to come into their waiting hands.

How the hell did their nemesis find this place anyway? This little hole-in-the-wall tailor shop, near the bottoms in Relictus City?

Damn it!

This place is lost now. Their livelihood would likely be burned to cinders in the upcoming crusade. How frustrating, since it took them months to vet a dozen or so locations before choosing this one. Sure that no hero of the Covenant would find it, only to be met with the sidekick’s appearance.

Or was this a joke? Did their nemesis need a hole patched in their super suit? Probably put there by the villain themselves. Their store wasn’t exactly a five-star boutique that most of the heroes preferred. Those were located in the more affluent parts of the city—where the sidekick should be perusing. Not here.

Or maybe this was just karma. The universe’s version of a kick in the teeth. Of punishing them for getting too complacent in this place. Of becoming too accustomed to working odd hours in the little shop then heading upstairs to the maisonette, their living quarters above. They’d placed their major bases (they had three) far from this location, hoping to avoid this very situation. No cross-contamination. They were smart about it.

Well, it looks like it didn’t work.

The villain tenses, ready for a fight as the sidekick makes their way through the store. Around unopened boxes and half-dressed mannequins. They sidestep a display case and approach the only other customer there who was browsing, trying to kill time while they waited on that hem. Rocking back on their heels, the sidekick smiled impishly. “Hey? Do you work here?”

Barely looking up from the rows of tabled dress shirts, the customer shakes their head and gestures towards the back of the store.

Fuck.

A power core they hid in the cabinetry near the cash register silently darts into the villain’s hand. They hold it behind their back, trying to stay out of sight until the last moment. This may get messy. And the civilian; their customer….

They glance over at them. Unassuming and pathetically ordinary. The villain supposes they would become an unavoidable casualty in this skirmish. Especially once their nemesis barges through the door, leveling the place.

Or maybe they could avoid bloodshed. That would be best given that they were probably outnumbered. Scores of Covenant guards and other lesser heroes waiting to pounce just outside of the large bay windows.

The villain takes a step back, hoping such a move wouldn’t draw any attention to themselves. Twelve steps in retreat would take them to the stairs that led to their apartment. If they could only make it…

“I know you’re there,” came the youthful voice. The villain startles, choosing to remain rooted to their spot. They would take their last stand here. The sidekick squeezes between stacks of boxes the villain has yet to unload and comes to the kiosk cash register. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

The villain swallowed, wondering if the kid was wearing a wire. If their nemesis could hear this interaction. If they were loving this ambush. “You’ve disguised this place pretty well. It was really hard to find. But the jig is up. I’m here.”

Even in the loose sweatshirt, beanie and jeans, the sidekick strikes a pose. Chest out, hands on their hips and a wry smile pulling at the corners of their mouth.

The villain let out a steadying breath and flips on the power core. It swells to life with a low hum.

“I see that,” they say, on edge. Ready to strike.

“You’re going to be grateful that it was me, and not someone else. You’ll see that I’m the only one fit for the job.”

“Excuse me?”

The sidekick let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry. I’m really trying hard to sell myself. That’s what her—I mean, my friend told me to do.”

“...What?”

“You put the ‘help wanted’ ad online? Plus you have a sign out front. I’m here to apply.” They presented the actual sign, holding it up proudly. “I’m here for the job.”

“Ah…,” the villain scrambled to recover. “Do you have any prior experience?”

“Well, no,” they said, shuffling their feet. They place the sign on the kiosk before shoving their hands in the pocket of their sweatshirt. They look hopeful. “But I’m a quick learner.”

What. The. Hell?

“I need an experienced tailor,” the villain said, playing the part. Looking above the sidekick’s head, to the street outside their window. Where was their nemesis? What the hell is this? “I’ve been getting a lot of business lately, and I find myself a bit overwhelmed.”

“Ok, so I can’t sew,” the sidekick starts, “but I can do anything else you need me to. I can sweep, and dust. I can answer phones. I can manage your online store. I’m good with computers. Social media is practically my playground.” They catch the doubtful look on the villain’s face. “Oh, please! It would give you more time to, you know, sew and whatever else you do. I can start as an intern. For a week. No pay. If you don’t like me then you can yeet me out the door. Promise.”

“Ok…” This was an unusual tactic, but maybe their nemesis banked on the hope that the villain wouldn’t recognize them. Stil… they needed more information. Or at least time to figure out what was going on. “Why do you want to work here?”

The sidekick hesitates. “I need to get away...from where I’m at.” They look up at the villain reading their concerned expression. “Oh, no! It’s not like that. I’m not running away. I just want a… vacation.”

“You want a vacation doing menial work?”

“I want to get away. And to make some money while I do it. You know. To have an emergency fund. Just in case.” They shuffled their feet. “So do I got the job or not. I have six other places to go to before it gets dark. Maybe they’ll hire me if you don’t.”

Interesting. Very interesting. Especially if what the kid says is true that their nemesis doesn’t know that their sidekick is here at all, begging for a job. This could play in their favor. It would be risky. A big risk. On one hand, their nemesis could be playing the long game. Drawing this farce out. Goading the villain into revealing their associates. Base locations. Possible details of their plans. But if their nemesis had no idea the sidekick was here...

“Do your parents know you’re here?” the villain tentatively tries.

“I don’t live with my parents. But my legal guardian said I could do whatever I wanted with my free time. So, here I am.”

The villain holds their hand out for the crumpled piece of paper tucked in the sidekick’s front pocket. Their resume, the villain assumes and assumes correctly. The sidekick hands it over and they skim its contents.

Member of the Sidekick Foundation, though it doesn’t say in what capacity. So if the villain was truly clueless, they wouldn’t know if the sidekick was truly a sidekick or just as a full-time student. Their legal guardian is the superhero Fission. Only it doesn’t say that. No, the sidekick has put down Fission’s real name. And their real name. Their age—sixteen years old—and their skills.

Gods, this kid’s naivety was sickening. On this paper alone, the villain had more than what they could garnish from three months of reconnaissance. Names. Place of residence. Contact information.

“The store opens at 8 am,” the villain instructed, ignoring the sidekick’s delighted face. “Be here at seven. You can start by opening up these boxes, and putting the clothing on hangers. You’ll have to answer the phone if it rings while you’re doing this. Then the shop needs a good dusting and the bathroom in the back needs attention. You will get an hour lunch break, and the day ends at 4 pm.” The villain looked them up and down. “And try to wear something nicer than a sweatshirt.”

The sidekick breaks into a grin, thanks them profusely, and practically sprints out the door.

The villain hopes they won’t regret this.

#not a prompt #writing #short story #my wriring #villain #sidekick #tailor villain #superhero #superhero fission #hero #Heroes of Covenant #Relictus City #Sidekick Foundation

39 notes · View notes

boukenboy · 4 years ago

Text

#17: セブンスドラゴン2020 / 7th Dragon: 2020

The year is 2020. The world is under siege by murder hornets, political unrest, a pandemic, and swarms of ferocious dragons. The fact that only one of the above is fake speaks to how much of a dumpster fire this year has been. Personally, as an "essential worker" who runs a coffee kiosk, some of the behavior that I have witnessed with regards to masks and general safety has taken what little faith I had in humanity and ground it into dust. I have been gaming - and drinking - much more than I ever used to, and while it has saved me money in the long run, I sometimes feel guilty with how much I've dove into this hobby. But who cares, really?

I discovered 7th Dragon 2020 through a random late-night Google search: I occasionally dig around the Japanese side of the internet for research on what games I'd like to play next, and the moment I realized that this game was set in post-apocalyptic Tokyo, in the year 2020, I knew I had to play the absolute hell out of it, regardless of quality.

Art imitating life? We love to see it!

As stated above, 7th Dragon takes place in Tokyo, Japan. You begin by creating your main character, choosing a class and appearance. What really surprised me, however, was the sheer amount of voices you can choose from - I'm not really an anime fan, but according to the game's official website, quite a few famous voice actors lent their talent to the game, and they're all full of personality. Want to make a foul-mouthed gothic lolita? You can. A beefcake with the voice of a 10 year old? You can do that too.

The game features 5 different classes to choose from: Samurai, Destroyer, Psychic, Hacker, and Trickster. Out of these five, I decided to make my main character a Trickster - all classes in 7th Dragon are essentially a sort-of "two-in-one" deal, and in the Trickster's case, their skills are divided between gun and dagger skills, and they both do very different things. Daggers tend to focus more on applying various debuffs to enemies - such as poison, silence, and so forth, while with guns, you'll be avoiding enemy attacks, employing counters, and inducing critical attacks. With the proper set-up, gun Tricksters can then apply constant damage with a possibility of avoiding enemies entirely. To round out the party of three, I then chose to make a Hacker and Destroyer.

Destroyers are your main brawler class, but with an interesting twist. Their abilities all revolve around applying what is called a D-Counter to enemies - certain attacks increase this value, and you can only perform the more devastating attacks once you raise this to the appropriate level. D-Counters wear off over time, too, so it is important for this class to keep up offensive pressure in order to be effective.

Alternatively, you can develop them to become more of a tank: Destroyers possess a stance that draws enemy attention. Once attacked, they'll respond with a powerful counter - this is obviously a great way to protect your squishier party members, and it is extremely satisfying when you successfully bait enemies into destruction. Later on, you'll learn more specialized counters that will allow you to ignore enemy damage entirely, but there's a catch: you have to predict what type of attack they'll use - will they try and bite you, use their claws, or cast a spell? You'll have to pay attention to not only monster anatomy, but to attack patterns, too.

Hackers are the main support class in 7th Dragon: they have the bog-standard buffing spells, but I have to give special recognition to the developers of 7th Dragon for going out of their way to come up with some unique abilities that I have yet to see in any other game. For example, Hackers can set-up a "safety net" that will automatically revive fallen party members at the end of a round, but it is required to be casted at the beginning of that turn. Know a boss is about to end you with their strongest attack? Cast it and hope for the best. They can also decrease the amount of turns your party suffers from status effects, and even increase the rate at which your auto-skills activate.

They can, true to their name, also "hack" into enemies. I haven't played with these skills as of this writing, but it involves the Hacker inducing a status effect of the same name, and then causing all sorts of shenanigans. Other classes possess abilities that can make enemies weak to hacking, which reduces the amount of set-up required. In my case, I decided to focus on the support abilities due to the gaps in my party's defenses, but I can easily see how a more offense-focused Hacker can be a huge asset in battle.

As stated earlier, 7th Dragon 2020 takes place in Tokyo after a sudden and cataclysmic invasion by hordes of enigmatic dragons. Their ultimate objective is unknown, as they do not speak or interact in any manner that is not hostile. You play as a member of the government organization Murakumo, lead by an alarmingly busty woman known as Natsume. Determined to take back the country, you are then sent out into various Tokyo neighborhoods, warped by the dragon's magic, in order to discover the true nature of your nemesis.

I really enjoyed how little you know about the reptilian threat: it reads almost Lovecraftian - these beings are beyond human comprehension, and have the ability to warp reality as they see fit, resulting in some fantastic environments. One of my favorites is the sky-high giant sphere of railroad tracks in Ikebukuro - traversing it feels like you've really stumbled upon some twisted version of our own world.

Along the way, you'll encounter the members of an organization known as SKY - initially the villains of the game, you'll eventually become allies in their search for the one with what they call "the power." If you have played any RPG at all, I'm sure you can figure out just who that is. There's also a large variety of secondary characters, but overall, the game's plot isn't very innovative, but it's serviceable. What surprised me, however, was just how dark some scenes were. In one instance, you cooperate with the Japanese military in order to stop a massive dragon-made cannon, only to watch dozens of your fellow soldiers die in front of your eyes.

7th Dragon isn't afraid to kill off your friends, either - there are sections in the story that are utter bloodbaths. Certain characters the game seemed to favor early on are promptly killed off at random, and the way the survivors react to the trauma of losing their companions is a major story-point that resounds throughout the later chapters of 2020. I was surprised as to how the allegiances between the cast shift as the game progresses - their relationships, and the way they evolve was, to be honest, way more intriguing than the main plot of, "Dragons are bad."

7th Dragon also features a base development system, in which you'll use materials gathered from defeated dragons to add new weapons to shops, create more residential spaces for refugees, and unlock optional side-quests. You can also recruit Hatsune Miku, because of course you can. Why wouldn’t you? Doing so unlocks a remixed soundtrack featuring said vocaloid, but nothing else. It's a curious addition to the game, and the re-done tracks are pretty cool. Unfortunately, the side-quests in 7th Dragon tend to have poor rewards and vague objectives, so I abandoned doing them around halfway through the game.

I can see fans of the Shin Megami Tensei and Etrian Odyssey series finding a lot to love in 7th Dragon. Creating a party that works well together is extremely satisfying, especially given the high level of challenge the game has during boss battles. The plot isn't anything impressive, but the ensemble cast and the blood-soaked shenanigans more than make up for it. I can confidently recommend this game to anybody who seeks a marginally less horrifying version of our current apocalypse. But who knows? If 2021 brings us dragons, I can only pray they eat me first.

#gaymer #review #jrpg #7th dragon 2020 #7th dragon series #etrian odyssey #shin megami tensei #smt #psp #sega #hatsune miku #apocalypse #gaming blog #game review #retro gaming #retro game

14 notes · View notes

atamascolily · 5 years ago

Text

An Appointment in Sawarra, 7/?

In which Luke has an adventure with Space Customs.

(earlier: one two three four five, six)

Luke had barely disentangled himself from the X-wing's cockpit and put on his translator when a half-dozen figures arrived on the scene. All wore colorful robes in vibrant eye-catching patterns, along with black stiff hats half a meter in length, ornately carved wooden masks, and neon-orange gloves that clashed violently with the rest of their ensemble.

It was hard to see much of the Sawarrans themselves under the voluminous swirl of coverings, let alone many details of age or gender, but their silhouettes and voices were conspicuously human, as was their presence in the Force. What little skin he could see was the darkest shade Luke had ever seen: a rich, deep black with the faintest hint of blue in it. All of the agents were taller than he was, although some of that extra half-meter was due to the elevated bases of their sandals, some of which were impressively high.

The translator itself turned out to be unnecessary, as all six informed him in heavily accented but comprehensible Basic that he was entering sovereign Sawarran territory and as a foreigner, he was required to declare himself at customs before being permitted to enter the station.

Luke groaned inwardly, and sighed. Customs. Right. No escaping bureaucracy. Maybe he should have taken Leia up on her offer of an official diplomatic position instead of coming as a private citizen.

It was tempting to wave his hand and order them to let him pass. Too tempting. Luke gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the impulse. Luke had grown uncomfortable with using the Force to manipulate others since his time with Joruus C'baoth on Jomark. This unease had only deepened when C'baoth tried to make Luke, Mara, Leia, and the twins his living puppets, molding their wills to his own. His plan hadn't worked, but the slack-jawed, blank look of his own face on C'baoth's clone servant had impacted Luke deeply. Ever since then, he'd been especially reluctant to touch anyone's mind so intimately, let alone for his own casual selfishness.

Besides, he thought sourly, for the trick to work, the target had to be willing to go along--easily distracted, bored, already primed to go along, or just plain stupid and easily manipulated. Judging from the earnest zeal of the customs agents, he wasn't going to get anywhere with them with anything less than a cudgel--which was far too much like C'baoth's tactics for his taste.

He let the customs agents, led by a tall, stately figure in a wildfire mask, briskly but politely usher him into a sterile but functional waiting room, with a row of cubicles off to the side. Through a thin window-slit in the far wall, custom agents were swarming the X-wing, scanning it for contraband. Luke was glad he hadn't brought Artoo along; the astromech wouldn't have stood for such manhandling of his beloved X-wing and someone would have gotten hurt.

Luke himself was also scanned for illegal substances. He held his breath for a moment when they paused over the bag of uneti seeds at his waste, but the scanner only beeped when it got to his lightsaber, registering it as a weapon. It was duly confiscated over Luke's protests as the agents pointed and whispered among themselves as they passed it from hand to hand, too quiet for his translator to pick up their meaning. Finally, their leader--his wildfire mask expressionless--shrugged and returned the lightsaber to Luke with a bow.

Satisfied there was nothing harmful in his ship or on his person, Luke was presented with a hard-backed chair, three stylo-pens and a clipboard, along with a four-centimeter high stack of paperwork. Three of agents excused themselves, while the other two retreated to their cubicles and busied themselves with their datapads, shooting surreptitious glances at Luke through their masks when they thought Luke wasn't looking. One of them sported a mask in the shape of a stylized lizard with horns sprouting out of the eyes and nostrils in all directions; the other some sort of fish, surrounded by bright blue waves.

The reason for the sheer number of forms became apparent as Luke examined them more closely. The bottom half of each page was in standard Aurebesh, but the top halves were in a pictographic calligraphy he couldn't even begin to make sense of without an ocular add-on to his translator.

The Sawarrans wanted to know everything about him, from the exact make and model of his ship, the precise length of his planned visit (which Luke left blank), and the purpose of his trip in the first place, which was multiple choice. There were a dizzying array of options, but "tourist" wasn't one of them, and nothing else even remotely applied to his situation.

An entire page was taken up by a stern warning against smuggling contraband, which was defined as "any organic or non-organic substance not approved by the Access Station Sovereign Port Authorities". Luke thought of the uneti seeds in his pocket, undetected by the scanners, but decided he didn't need to declare them since he had no intention of staying here for long. Besides, he couldn’t risk the Sawarrans confiscating them.

"I'm here to deliver a message to a professor at the university on Sawarra, not offload cargo," Luke complained to his minders in annoyance. "Why do I have to do this?"

The pair shook their head, their expressions unreadable behind their masks, and informed him in unison that he must follow proper protocol and complete all sections of the appropriate forms in order to have his visitation permit approved. Sensing a grim stubbornness in the agents to rival his own, Luke sighed and went back to work.

In the end, he wrote "Jedi Knight" as his occupation, trying and failing not to feel like an imposter. He'd called himself a Jedi many times before, but there was something bald and impersonal about seeing it on written out on the page that didn't come out in casual conversation.

Lizard-head bowed when Luke presented the completed pile of paperwork, and took the stack away with him. Luke sat in the uncomfortable chair and did his best to meditate to calm his frazzled nerves while Fish-face twitched nervously and pretended not to stare at him.

After about twenty minutes, Lizard-head returned, solemnly informing him that there would be an unfortunate delay in processing his paperwork. In the meantime, Luke would be issued a temporary visa and permitted entry to the rest of the station.

"Great," Luke said, taking the little seal the agent offered, and striding for the door. Depending on how fast he could get a message to Dr. Mendoza, maybe he could be on his way back to Coruscant by the time the bureaucrats had finished.

The station itself was small and surprisingly crowded, but that was due more to the cramped conditions than an abundance of visitors. There were more Sawarrans than foreigners, all easily distinguished by the vibrant colors and patterns of their robes, though apparently only the customs agents wore the masks and gloves (for quarantine, Luke realized belatedly). Most of the Sawarrans appeared to be men, though there were a few women who he thought might be prostitutes--they had the same dead-eyed stare he'd seen in other ports of call. Yet if they were prostitutes, they didn't make any overtures or meet his eyes when he passed, which struck him as odd.

He made a beeline for the nearest message kiosk, only to be sternly informed by the veiled attendant who examined Luke's seal that his temporary visa would not allow for messages to the main planet, let alone the university. No amount of cash would convince the vendor to change their mind. Like the agents, the vendor was too stubborn to budge without a major intervention in the Force that probably--<i>probably</i> wasn't worth the effort. Luke sighed and continued on his way.

After three similar exchanges with three different kiosks in succession, a frustrated and confused Luke retreated to the back corner of a dimly-lit bar that appeared to cater entirely to foreigners who appeared as annoyed by this place as he was. His drink was watered-down and tepid, but it dimmed the headache that was threatening to overshadow him and calmed his frazzled nerves.

He didn't understand the rules here, but that was fine, he'd figure it out. His visa would be approved soon enough, and he'd do whatever he had to do to get a message to Karrde's contact. He'd find a way. It was just going to take a little longer than he thought, that was all.

As if on cue, the door to the bar was flung open with a shout as a robed and veiled Sawarran stumbled through in agitation. It was Lizard-head the customs agent, tottering to keep his balance on his raised sandals as he ducked through the doorway.

"YOU!" he shouted in Basic with a dramatic flourish, pointing directly at Luke. "YOU ARE A JEDI?"

So much for keeping a low profile. Everyone in the bar was staring at them, and he didn't like it. He sat up, careful to keep his hands in plain view the entire time. "That's right," he said, and braced himself for... what, he didn't know.

"<i>Come</i>," the agent ordered, and gestured to him. "We must go, go. You are wanted immediately!"

Luke left his half-finished glass on the table, along with what would be a hefty tip if New Republic credits had any value here. That was fast, for processing paperwork, but maybe, just maybe he was in the clear--

Either that or he was in deep trouble.

#an appointment in sawarra #fanfic excerpt

4 notes · View notes

cinlat · 6 years ago

Photo

Chance Encounters: Life Day Edition

Word Count: 3033 A/N: This is a silly little Christmas gift to the lovelies that let me play in their world from time to time. Fynta gets to celebrate with old friends and finds herself a new drinking buddy. Special shout out to @kunoichi-ume (Noara) @dingoat (Ahuska) and @humanrevolt (Crow) for a wonderful year of fun, and I hope your holidays are bright! Since I strung a few of these together myself, Mando’a translations at the bottom. ;)

“Let’s go, people,” Fynta ordered in her best drill sergeant tone. “We’ve got two other cantinas on this spacestation to hit before midnight.”

“That’s not what those funds are allocated for,” Noara protested with a mild slur. The Jedi had given up on fighting about her limited stipend months back. Fynta was of the opinion that Noara wouldn’t get her proper payment until it was proven that she couldn’t live on what they��d given her. Fynta also used the housing of four, protein hungry soldiers as an excuse to do just that. It had worked, too. Noara had gotten a meager raise two months later.

Fynta grinned over her shoulder at the young Jedi. It was only her second Life Day celebration, and this time, they’d brought Tayl along to enjoy the merriment. Granted, the Dornes weren’t quite as buzzed as Fynta and Noara. They took in the lights and festivities with Tayl, reconnecting with the group between binges, while Aric nursed one drink per establishment because he didn’t trust Fynta and Noara unsupervised.

“Hey, boss, look at this.” Fynta stopped in the door of a cantina at Cormac’s hail. Balic and Elara stood to the side of a kiosk selling a plethora of instruments.

Cormac tugged one of the horns free, then yelped when more slid from the shelf in a racket of clangs. Elara held Tayl closer as she stepped back, while Aric pretended to see something more interesting across the aisle. By the time Fynta and Noara made it to the scene, Cormac wore a stupid grin as he slipped the straps of an outlandish contraption over his shoulders. He stomped experimentally, then looked at his friends.

With a shared glance, Noara and Fynta rushed forward to gather their own ensembles. Within minutes, minus a few bleary curses, all three were outfitted in a one-man band suit. “First person to get a tip buys the next round,” Cormac proclaimed as he stomped and jammed his hands together to make a racket that caused several people to veer off course.

Fueled by alcohol and the abandon of a night off from relic hunting for the Jedi council, Fynta and Noara joined in. A credit chit landed at Noara’s feet and she let out a cheer until her eyes landed on the benefactor. The stringed instrument in her hands clattered to the floor, and more off-tune notes followed as she stumbled over the instruments and into the arms of a laughing Torian Cadera.

“You made it,” Noara exclaimed, shaking herself free of the straps to better embrace her lover. Fynta paid for the band sets and smacked Cormac’s shoulder playfully when he glowered at the Mandalorian. Torian had been back in Cormac’s good graces for nearly a year, but Balic still blustered whenever he had the chance. Just as a reminder of who held Noara’s affection first. When Fynta asked about it, he’d claimed it was his brotherly duty to make Torian’s life hell until he made an honest woman of Noara.

“Alright you two,” Fynta said when she was finished with the booth owner. “No public displays of affection in clear view of anyone who can rat our little Jedi out.”

Torian grinned at Fynta over Noara’s shoulder. “Right.” With a wink, he looked back at his lover. “Should probably find a dark corner somewhere.”

“I know just the corner, too,” Fynta announced as she shoved between the young lovers with an arm around each shoulder. “You joining us, Cormac?”

Balic crossed thick arms over a broad chest and sighed. “Not yet. They’ve got a petting zoo in the bazaar that we're taking Tayl to, but I’ll catch up later.” That had been the way of it since Noara had garnered permission for Elara and Balic to bring their son aboard. Whenever Havoc squad ventured out to let off some steam, Cormac hung back with his family until Tayl’s bedtime, then he and Elara took turns with outings. Such was the price of parenthood.

“Have fun, big guy. I’ll buy Elara those candies she likes since she has to stay home tonight.” Fynta stuck her tongue out at Cormac’s smart assed salute, then looked in the direction her husband vanished. “You coming, riduur?”

Aric wandered out from between a couple of stalls to join their group. He lifted an eyebrow at his wife from where she grinned between Noara and Torian. “You going to go as my date or theirs?”

“Hmm.” Fynta dragged the sound out, but dropped her arms when the Aric rolled his eyes. Slipping from between the youngsters, Fynta accepted Aric’s arm with an adoring smile. “I’m all yours, riduur.”

“What’s that?” Noara asked as they walked towards the next cantina. Fynta pulled Aric towards a vendor, then laughed when he groaned.

“Artificial snowballs,” Torian answered with a sly look around. “Should we?”

Noara nodded vigorously, but before she could remark, Jorgan broke free of Fynta’s grip. “I’m out. Meet me inside when you're done.” Within the space of a heartbeat, her husband vanished into the safety of the dimly lit cantina.

"There goes my date," Fynta laughed as she paid the vandor for a dozen snowballs. When she turned to finger equally expectant looks on her friends' faces, Fynta's mirth grew. “Aric had some bad luck with these sticking in his fur a few years back. Nearly skinned Cormac and Vik for it.”

Torian huffed a laugh and returned to his purchase. While he was distracted, Fynta took several steps back and waited. The moment the artificial snow was in Torian's hand, Fynta released her missile to watch it explode between his shoulders.

“Etyc nari.” The Mandalorian spoke in lowered tones, turning slowly to confront his attacker.

Fynta grinned, then gave a shout of surprise when the retaliation came not from the man she’d struck, but from Noara. The cool, foam based glob smacked Fynta’s shoulder and dissolved into nothing. “Whose side are you on?” She shouted at her once Jedi ally while scrambling for cover.

Noara burst into laughter, then cut short when Torian tackled her out of the way of Fynta’s next volley. They went on like this for several minutes, Fynta only realizing the flaw in her choice of shelter when Torian slinked towards the vendor for a refill. There was no way for Fynta to get close to the man without making herself a target.

Fynta ducked behind a statue of someone who’d probably once been important as another snowball zipped past. For now, the commemorative was serving to keep her from being splattered. “Noara, using the Force is cheating!” Fynta shouted when one curved more than was natural.

“Says who?” The Jedi shot back, her words accompanied by another projectile. The snowball went wide of it’ target, but Fynta heard it burst against something that sputtered.

Turning slowly, Fynta came face to face with a familiar, elongated T-shaped visor. Her eyes flicked up into the amused, blue eyes of none other than her favorite Mando Bothan. “Ahuska!” Fynta grabbed the Bothan’s gauntlet and yanked her behind cover. “Hold on, they’ve only got two more.”

It only occurred to Fynta after Ahuska looked towards a human male that she didn’t have fake snowball stuck in her fur. The man, a handsome salt and pepper with some impressive tattoos on his face, brushed the rest of the white flecks from his armor. “Who’s your friend, Pout Snout?” He asked with an air of familiarity that surprised Fynta.

Fynta grinned at the name, then lifted a brow at Ahuska, curious how she’d introduce them. “This is Fynta, the vod that helped with that poaching ring a while back.” Fynta noted that she left out how they met, and the bruises that had accompanied it. “This is my riduur, Crow.” There was no mistaking the pride in Ahuska’s tone.

“Riduur?” Fynta’s shock drove her upright, and she barely noticed the snowball that splattered against her shoulder and neck. “Why didn’t you say anything last time?”

“It’s a relatively new occurrence,” Crow answer with a smirk. He had both thumbs shoved into his belt in a playful swagger that Fynta instantly liked. That, and his adoration for the little Bothan was impossible to miss.

“Kandosii,” Fynta replied, then turned toward Torian and Noara. “Save your creds, vod’ika.” Torian paused, eyeing Fynta warily. Her grin widened when she looked back at the newlyweds. “We’ve got something else to celebrate.” _____________________________________________________________

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” Noara laughed as Fynta called for another round of drinks on the Republic’s dime.

Fynta shook her head before knocking back a flaming--whatever it was called. “The Order gave you a week of leave,” something they had never done before Havoc came along, “which means you’re expected to spend more. It’s an unspoken rule. ”

Warmth flooded Fynta’s system as the alcohol wormed through her gut. “Besides, it's our last night off. Enjoy.”

“They aren’t wrong, Jetii ad’ika,” Torian remarked in that easy way that he said everything. The Mandalorian had one arm braced over the back of Noara’s chair while she leaned against his chest. “You aren’t even paid a slave’s wage. Let Fynta get more where she can.”

Noara’s spine went rigid as she spun to look at Torian, who merely shrugged. “It’s no secret.”

"As much as I hate to admit it," Aric chimed. "They're right. You're grossly underpaid for what--the work you do."

Fynta gave a sage nod, pretending to miss the almost slip. Jorgan had been just as angry as her when they'd learned everything that Noara had been through in the name of the Order. To pull attention away from a conversation no one wanted to have, Fynta turned her shot glass over and offered a lopsided grin at Crow. “Your move.”

Aric sighed, but stayed out of the drinking game. Meanwhile, Noara eyed the empty glasses in the middle of the table longingly. Her gaze shifted from whimsical to mischievous when Torian leaned over to whisper in her ear. It was no surprise when the Jedi stretched, then yawned ten minutes later. “Well, I think I’m going to call it a night. Big day tomorrow.”

Fynta and Ahuska shared an unconvinced look before both warriors gave Noara their full attention. It was important for the Jedi to understand that she hadn't pulled anything on the older females. Torian chuckled as he stood to follow. “I’m going to walk Noara to the ship. K'oyacyi.”

As the couple pushed from the table, Fynta leaned back to plop her feet in Noara’s vacated chair. “Cormac’s probably still awake,” she called after them, then laughed when Torian replied with a not so nice hand gesture.

“Since we’re all taking breaks,” Crow began, standing, wobbling, then catching his balance on the edge of the table. “I’ll be back to finish that bet.” Fynta had no doubt. The man could hold as much booze as she could, and seemed to be nearly as stubborn.

After Ahuska’s husband tottered out of sight, Fynta leaned over to check the datapad under the Bothan’s hand. “So, tell me about this tattoo Crow mentioned. How does that work on fur?”

Ahuska’s muzzle split into a wolfish grin even though she didn’t look up from her drawing. “Give me a marker and I’ll show you.”

Fynta looked around and stood when an idea struck her. The room spun for a second, she cursed, then started for the bar. It took some haggling and more than one threat from the barkeep before he would relinquish his prized writing utensil. Fynta bought another round of drinks just to prove that she was a nice person before making her way back to the table.

“Here,” Fynta said as she slid back into her chair. “One marker.”

Bright, blue eyes twinkled as Ahuska reached for it. “You trust me?”

Fynta laughed, then sobered with effort. She placed her prosthetic leg on the table between them and rolled the pant leg up as far as her thigh. “Have fun.”

A hint of sadness dulled Ahuska’s cheer as she ran a finger along one of the metal plates that protected Fynta’s leg. “I meant to ask, when did this happen?”

“Corellia,” Fynta answered, then waved away the Bothan’s concern. “I’m getting used to it. So, what sort of art do you have planned for me?”

Scooting her chair around, Ahuska placed her body in a way that blocked Fynta’s view of her progress. “Never thought I’d say it, but that Jetii’s not so bad.”

“Noara’s a good kid,” Fynta agreed. “We’re slowly converting her to our way of life. The Order’s got her shabla osik’la.”

Ahuska nodded, then swayed in her chair. Fynta eyed the number of empty glasses in front of the Bothan. She wondered if letting an inebriated artist draw on her was the best idea after all. If anything, it would make for an interesting picture come morning. “Got her a Mando boyfriend, too,” Fynta continued, wondering if Torian would pause to torment Cormac once they were on the ship.

“I noticed.” Ahuska giggled, a sound that seemed out of place. Fynta raised a brow at the back of the Bothan’s head. “How’d you end up with her?”

“I’m retired.” Ahuska looked over her should with an incredulous expression, and Fynta laughed. “From SpecForce. Plenty of fight in these old bones--well, the ones still attached,” she muttered after as an afterthought. "I won't be hanging up my blasters any time soon though."

Ahuska sat up suddenly. “Done.” While the Bothan forced her chair back to its original position, Fynta leaned forward to see her masterpiece.

A broad smile split Fynta’s features as she took in the masterful curves of her new tattoo. “It’s perfect.” _____________________________________________________________

Fynta staggered onto the ship, noting that Noara’s door was shut tight, while Tayl’s stood open, and Balic and Elara’s cracked. Cormac had never made it back to the cantina, and Fynta hoped it was because he found something better to distract him here. No doubt Elara took advantage of having an empty ship for a few hours.

Aric sat against the headboard in their room with his datapad in hand. He looked up when Fynta bumped into the doorframe. “Expected you back over an hour ago.” He didn’t sound annoyed, but clearly would prefer to be asleep now instead of waiting on his wayward wife to stumble home. “Was about to come looking for you.”

Fynta waved a hand. “Crow has a higher alcohol tolerance than I expected.” She unsnapped her pants while fantasizing how sinking into that wonderful mattress and not moving for days.

“Who won?” Aric asked with a casual side glance. Fynta paused, searched her hazy memories, then shrugged. She wasn’t even sure that they’d finished the game.

Fynta had just kicked her pants to the side and reached for the hem of her shirt when Jorgan coughed. “What. Is. That?”

Not pausing in her undressing, Fynta wiggled her hips. “Think you’d know what a woman stripping off her clothes looked like by now, riduur.”

Ignoring Fynta’s dry wit, Aric clicked off his datapad. His eyes were focused on hers when Fynta emerged from behind her shirt. “When you left, you just had the one tattoo.” When Fynta didn’t catch on fast enough, he nodded toward her leg.

Fynta glanced down to see the overly buff, and very shirtless, character that looked suspiciously like her husband inked in vibrant black lines on her metal leg. “Oh.” memories from the pub, and the drinking game she’d gotten into with Crow, surged in so fast that Fynta snorted.

Covering her mouth and nose to stifle the giggles, Fynta fell onto the bed at Aric's feet. “Apparently Ahuska likes to doodle when she drinks, and one thing led to another.” She lifted the leg in front of Aric’s less than amused face for a better look. “I think he looks just like you.”

The flesh and blood Cathar glared at Fynta with an expression eerily similar to the one drawn on her leg. When Fynta burst into another round of laughter, Aric sighed. “Is it permanent?”

“I hope so,” Fynta gasped between chuckles. Letting the leg fall back onto the mattress, she grinned at her husband. “Maybe I’ll get one to match on the other thigh.”

Leaning forward, Aric hovered over Fynta’s face with a look that should be concerning. In her inebriated state, Fynta couldn’t react in time when he flung the blanket over her head to drag her into an appropriate sleeping position. Fynta shrieked and fought against the confines while Aric did his best to keep her under wraps. His grip slipped, and Fynta broke free with enough force to roll Aric off the bed. He landed with a grunt on his back, and Fynta followed to pin her husband's hands to the floor while her knees straddled his stomach.

“Alright,” Aric laughed. “You win.”

“If you’re going to fight dirty, love--” Fynta leaned down to place a quick peck on Aric's lips and released his hands. “You’ve got to be committed.”

Pushing Fynta’s tangled hair from her face, Aric pulled her closer for a more thorough embrace. His hand dropped to the doodle on her left thigh, bringing Fynta’s attention back to it. “It’s actually pretty good," he admitted. They both angled to see the two-dimensional soldier glaring at them. He chuckled. "Let’s see how long it sticks around.”

Fynta leaned forward to prop her elbows on Aric’s chest while she smirked. “Happy Life Day, riduur.”

With a smack to Fynta’s rear, Aric pushed himself upright. “Nope, that ended two hours ago. We report for duty in twelve hours.” Fynta cursed and looked at the chrono. Sure enough, it was almost time to rejoin to the real world.

Aric dragged Fynta back onto the mattress, then went to retrieve their blanket. “Come on, Major. Time to get you to bed.”

Fynta sighed as Aric enveloped her in warmth, then again when he settled behind her with an arm and leg draped over her body. Fynta was vaguely aware of his lips against her temple before sliding into an alcohol-induced slumber that promised one hell of a headache come morning.

Mando’a translations: Etyc nari: dirty move Kandosii: Nice one vod’ika: Little brother Jetii ad’ika: little Jedi K'oyacyi: Stay alive shabla osik'la: really screwed up

#cinlat drabbles #cinlat writes a holiday #life day shenanigans #fynta wolfe #aric jorgan #balic cormac #elara dorne #noara starspark #torian cadera #ahuska and crow

20 notes · View notes