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mochegato · 3 years

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I Can’t Fight This Feeling

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

He just came here for a fucking break. Somewhere none of the people he normally works with would be caught dead. Which is the only reason he was in an art museum right now. Because Black Mask aside, none of Gotham’s rogues or henchmen had the slightest interest in art and Black Mask would never deign to be in the presence of Gotham’s unwashed masses.

So here, this place, it was a safe haven. A relaxing place. A place where he could let his mind wander and his guard down, as much as you could anywhere in Gotham. It had absolutely nothing to do with the painting of a dark haired, blue eyed woman glancing hopefully into the distance that he had been staring at for the last hour, the same painting he ended up in front of every time he visited.

But his peaceful reprieve was being intruded upon. He couldn’t see the person, but he could feel their eyes boring into him. They’ve been on him for at least the last ten minutes. That meant it was more than just someone who wanted to hit on him. They would have made their move already. He would give them five more minutes to move on before he acted, but he could feel his rage rising with each passing second.

After another five minutes, he rounded on them, ready to threaten them until they regretted even breathing in the same building as him. “What are you fucking…” he hissed out, but his anger dissipated when he was met with the same blue eyes that had consumed his mind for the last hour. Or rather, if he were being honest, for the last three years. “…looking… at.”

“Oh, sorry,” her eyes widened in surprise before she looked away awkwardly. “That must have seemed so creepy. It’s just… you look so familiar? I could swear I know you from somewhere.” Her eyes returned to his, searching them for familiarity.

He stared at her wide eyed. She couldn’t be here. Why would she be here… in Gotham. She didn’t belong in Gotham. She was supposed to stay in Paris where it was safe, now that Hawkmoth was gone and the League couldn’t track her, where she could stay innocent. “Marinette,” he breathed out.

She gave him a brilliant smile and let out a relieved breath. “Oh good. You do know me.” She laughed nervously. “I’ve never remembered anyone from that time before. And it has to be from that time, right? Otherwise I’d remember how I know you.”

“What are you doing here?” He continued to stare at her still in a haze. She had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the last few years, her eyes brighter. God, they had always been mesmerizing, but now they were positively hypnotic. Maybe that had more to do with getting away from the Hawkmoth situation, being free again, not bogged down by the responsibility of protecting millions of people as a child, being in a whole new time in her life. He was so lost in thought, it took a second for her words to register. “What do you mean ‘that time’?”

“I was looking for a little design inspiration.” Her voice was unsteady, slightly shaking. She tapped her fingers together nervously. “I have, um… a commission I need to figure out and homework and I have no idea what to do for the homework. The direction was so vague or maybe it wasn’t and it’s just me. It’s just not something that registers with me, you know.” Her voice became stronger as she babbled. “Like, I can design a thousand dresses based on a flower, or the rain, or a building, but design based on a heart? I can’t do it. Ask for something based on a star? I got it. A circle? Hundreds of designs. A square? Got that too. Even a triangle would be fun. But a heart? So cliché.”

“I meant,” he interrupted harsher than he intended to. He let his voice soften. “What are you doing in Gotham?”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment. “I go to school here. My best friend and I moved here last year for school. I go for design. He wants to be a teacher.”

“In Gotham?” he asked incredulously. “Of all the places you could have gone, why Gotham?”

She tilted her head to the side in consideration, weighing her words carefully. It was the first time since they started talking that her body seemed to relax. He studied her body language a bit more. No, not relax, slump. Her shoulders slumped as she thought of the reason that brought her here. “Because Gotham doesn’t judge,” she answered quietly. “Because you can just disappear in Gotham. No matter your past, as long as you aren’t actively trying to hurt them, nobody cares. There’s no hostile looks, no glares, no thinly veiled insults or completely unveiled insults. You can just be.”

Jason’s heart clenched and his anger started to build. He took a step closer to her. “Why was that important to you? Who was looking at you like that?” He kept his voice even and calm, but he was sure his eyes were starting to show hues of green edging in.

She shook her head and looked down. “Not me. My best friend. He tried moving to London and New York, but it just… seemed to follow him everywhere he went. I mean he still had all his friends but… they started getting into trouble too because they were getting into fights defending him and… yeah. So we applied to transfer here and both got accepted to our different schools.”

He nodded in understanding. That seemed like something she would do; uproot her entire life for a friend. “Gotham is good like that. They let you rebuild yourself. We’ve seen too much pain to judge too much.” He looked away for a few seconds before he realized something. “You never answered the second question. What did you mean ‘that time’?”

“Oh… um…” she looked away awkwardly again and shuffled her feet a few times. “I have amnesia? I lost a few years of my life a few years ago.”

“Amnesia?”

“Yeah, it was super weird. I wasn’t even in an accident. No physical injuries. Just memory loss.” She was rubbing the back of her neck and looking up at him sideways as she spoke.

He stared at her for a few more seconds. That made no sense. Why would she lose her memories like that? The League could have done something, he supposed. But if the League had been involved, she’d be dead. So it must be something else, something related to the miraculous was most likely. A few years ago would put it right around when Hawkmoth was caught and Ladybug and the other miraculous heroes disappeared.

His eyes flicked to her ears. She wasn’t wearing earrings. She wasn’t wearing her miraculous. He reached up toward her ears where they should be, but realized a few centimeters from her what he was doing and pulled back his hand like he’d been stung. She lost being a hero. Could the miraculous really do that? Remove any parts of a memory that related to the miraculous?

“Um, speaking of losing things. I don’t remember your name,” she prodded shyly.

“Jason. Jason Todd,” he answered, still somewhat in a daze, still focused on her ears.

She smiled at the answer, but her lips quickly turned down into a slight frown. The shift caused his hear to stutter. Why was she frowning? Did his name bring back who he was? No, that couldn’t be it. She never knew his name. So why the frown? Did she… had she heard of him? Was she disappointed in him? Was she scared of him? Was she aghast at the approach he took to cleaning up Gotham?

The thought pressed against his chest like a vice. Every decision he’d made since he left her in that park had been touched by her. Would she approve? Would she understand? It didn’t change how he acted… usually. He still did what he needed to do, what needed to be done. But the thought was still there. Would she think he was the evil villain he tried so hard to be? He knew she would be disappointed, but seeing it reflected on her face was something else. He steeled himself and rolled his shoulders in false nonchalance. He gave her a forcefully charming smile. “What’s the matter, don’t like the name?”

She quirked her head to the side as she watched him. Jason braced himself for whatever her next words were going to be. They had to be how disappointed she was in him, right? Disappointed in what he became. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just disappointed.”

Jason drew in a breath. There it was. The reaction he was expecting. Even though he knew it was coming it still hurt more than he thought it would. Why was he letting this person he didn’t even know affect him, damn it! She didn’t even know him. She had no right! He tried to meet her eyes so he could deliver a devastating glare, but she was staring ahead blankly. His eyes softened involuntarily. That’s why it hurt. Because she was the best person he’d met, the most forgiving, and if even she thought he was disappointing, he must really be.

“I don’t remember your name,” she continued, oblivious to his reaction. She looked back up at him with an adorable pout on her soft, pink lips. “I was so excited that seeing you sparked something. I guess I was hoping your name might help recover more memories. But my head, you know?” She tapped her head with her knuckles gently.

Jason gaped at her. She was disappointed in herself? Not him? “No!” he cried louder than he meant to, he just couldn’t let her think this was her fault when it had to be some kind of magic. “You never… you didn’t know my name. And, I’ve known lots of people with amnesia. Living in Gotham, people get their heads rattled or hit frequently. Memories are hard. They don’t come back the way you would think they do. Sometimes they don’t ever come back at all.”

She scrunched her face in confusion. Her lips turned down sadly. “But… you knew my name. And I remember you.”

Jason opened his mouth to try some kind of explanation. He snapped his mouth shut. What could he say? How was he supposed to explain how he knew her? This is where his years of training in bullshit and condescension would come in handy. Except he didn’t want to be condescending with her, so just bullshit then. He sighed heavily. But he didn’t want to lie to her either, not to her. She was the one good thing he’d done since the Pits. Helping her was his one saving grace. “We… we weren’t friends. We weren’t close. I honestly have no idea why you would remember me. I wasn’t a good person. You knew that.”

She stared at him in surprise. Her brows furrowed in thought, but she stayed quiet as if waiting for him to elaborate. He opened his mouth again, but snapped it shut again quickly when the sound of gunfire echoed through the museum. Jason’s head immediately snapped to the sound and he moved before he realized it to put himself between Marinette and the doorway.

Marinette sighed at the shots. Jason whipped around to look at her. A sigh is definitely not the response he was expecting. It was not the normal response. That was much closer to an emotionally damaged response, a tired of life response, a response he had tried to save her from having. Granted his reaction wasn’t normal either, but he knew why he reacted the way he did.

She shrugged. “The Walker Emerald,” she explained. “It’s in the Ancient Art exhibit.” When he still looked confused, she continued. “It’s an Incan artifact. They used emeralds in some of their works. The Walker Emerald is the largest emerald they’ve found in excavations. It’s held in place by a solid gold setting. It’s huge. They named it for the archaeologist that discovered it. What bullshit is that?” she grumbled, seeming more upset by that than the gunfire. “I stayed away from here for weeks after they opened the exhibit because I figured this would happen. But I thought it would have happened earlier. Guess they were waiting for people to put their guard down and it worked. I did.”

Jason moved to the doorway and peeked around the corner. “But why now? Why during the day when there would be people here?”

“Because security at night is a lot worse for it,” Marinette said as she peeked out next to him. He grabbed her and pulled her back into the room behind him. “Just my luck they would do it when I finally visited again.” She tried to move to the doorway again but Jason pulled her back again with a scowl, moving them further from the door. She really had no self-preservation instincts. She rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight him, instead slumping into his side to wait for everything to blow over. “If you remember me, then you probably already know how bad my luck is.”

He barked out a laugh at the irony. He stopped immediately when they heard more gunfire and someone behind them call out. Marinette peeked past him again. She cursed quietly and took off running. Jason cursed loudly and ran to the doorway just in time to see Marinette slide into the feet of one of the goons, knocking him off his feet and into the goon next to him, knocking him down as well. Before the second guy landed, she’d jumped back up and swept a little boy who had been in their path off his feet. Fuck! She was still acting like a hero, but without the suit or magic to help her.

He groaned to himself. Bad luck his ass. That was either extreme skill or luck… or both. But considering she hadn’t thought to follow it up by making sure they couldn’t follow her, if it was skill, it was subconscious remnants of her time as a hero, not something she could pull on at will. And she probably hadn’t intentionally trained to be able to defend herself, because she didn’t remember being a hero, so why would she. Which meant she had no self-preservation skills. She was acting purely on her emotions. She was going to get herself killed with her good heart. Where was her friend who came here with her? Why weren’t they protecting her? Somebody had to, since she clearly wasn’t going to do it herself.

He moved before he thought too hard about it. The goons were already standing up, guns out and cocked, and had their eyes trained on the statue’s pedestal she was hiding behind. He punched one in the temple, knocking him out immediately, and grabbed the gun from his hand as he fell. He pointed the gun at the goon and was about to pull the trigger when he heard the gasp behind him. He heard Marinette quickly fussing over the kid and telling him not to look. He groaned silently and tightened his grip on the gun. He couldn’t kill him in front of the kid… or Marinette.

He motioned to the gun in the goon’s hand and held his hand out. “You know who I am, yeah?” The goon nodded slowly. “Give me your gun and get the fuck out of here and I won’t come after you.” The goon dropped his gun and backed away, never turning his back on Jason until he was out of the room and rapid footfalls could be heard.

Jason took a breath and slowly let it out to calm himself before moving to Marinette’s truly terrible hiding spot. He silently reached out for her hand to help her stand and escorted her and the kid back into the room they had been in. The kid immediately perked up and reached out for a woman in the corner with two other kids. She thanked Marinette and him with tears running down her face, clutching to the boy like a lifeline before bringing him back to the other two kids and holding them all the same way.

Jason yanked Marinette into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. He watched the door for any indication they were going to send more goons after them. After a few seconds he pulled away just enough to look at her. “Stop doing that!” he whisper yelled. He pulled them into the corner where they were at least partially hidden by marble statues. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“You ran after me,” she pointed out with a roll of her eyes. “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I… you…” he scowled at her. He opened his mouth to lecture her more articulately, but snapped it shut again. “Let’s get you somewhere safer,” he gritted out.

She shook her head. “I’m not leaving them and I already feel safe. I feel safe with you. I trust you.” Jason scoffed at her. How was she still alive? Why was her friend not watching her at all times if she was this trusting and bad at judging people? “I remember you. You’re the only thing I’ve remembered. That must mean you were important to me. You wouldn’t have been important unless you did something I thought was significant. So that means I thought I could trust you. And I trust myself that I can trust you.” She smiled confidently at him.

Jason groaned and motioned to himself. “Do I look like someone you can trust?” he exclaimed as loudly as he felt he could safely. He may not be in his Red Hood suit right then, but he was definitely dressed in mob boss chic, designed to emanate a powerful asshole vibe and cultivate fear and respect.

She kept her eyes focused entirely on his, not bothering to take in his carefully crafted vibe. Just staring at his eyes, staring into his soul, and seeking out that part of him that he thought had died years ago. That part the League had trained out of him. The part the Joker had beaten out of him. “Yes,” she said immediately and confidently.

He stared at her blankly. Why would she trust him? He was untrustworthy. He was a killer. He was brutal. He had cultivated that reputation. It was well deserved. Hell, he’d attacked her. And yet here she was, looking up at him with those big, bright, trusting, blue eyes. “Okay.” He swallowed hard. Those blue eyes were more deadly than half the rogues in Gotham. Those blue eyes could get him to do things nobody else had ever been able to.

It only took half an hour for the police to clear the museum and let them back out on the street, likely because some of them had been in on the heist in the first place. It felt strange and unsettling to wait for the police instead of acting. His skin itched to act in a way other than decking the officer that had been staring at him with distain since he came to tell them they could leave.

He escorted Marinette and the small family to the sidewalk outside and stuck next to them to make sure the police didn’t harass them. He was determinedly not looking at Marinette, but he could feel her staring at him again. When he finally looked over at her, he lost his breath for a second. She was staring at him with such adoration and respect, his lungs couldn’t function correctly. Jason frowned. “You've got to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I'm a hero,” he groused. “I don’t deserve it. I haven’t earned it. I’m not a hero.”

Marinette blinked at him a few times and cocked her head to the side curiously. She smiled sweetly at him. It seemed vastly out of place considering the situation they were in and yet perfectly in place on her lips. “You’re that kid’s hero. And that mom’s… and mine.”

Jason stared back at her breathlessly. “Look… you don’t remember me. If you did… I’m… It’s dangerous to be around me. I’m dangerous to be around. You shouldn't be seen with me. It's dangerous for you to even talk to me.” She smiled softly at him. “And why are you smiling? I just told you to go away.”

Her smile got brighter his indignation. “Because if you were as evil as you seem so intent on convincing me you are, you wouldn't care. But you do, so you're not. So I was right.”

“Pixie, you have no idea how hard I worked on my reputation, what I’ve done to deserve it.”

Marinette nodded in faux seriousness. “Right. Terrible person that almost died protecting a kid he never met and would do it again in a heartbeat and stayed with us to make sure we were safe.”

“Who intimidated the henchmen out of harming us, because they knew what I could do, because they knew I’m not a good guy.”

Marinette laughed. She had the audacity to laugh at him. He was one of the leading crime bosses in the city. “Oh yeah, okay, Wreck it Ralph. Whatever you say. I bet you jaywalk and everything.”

“I do!” he exclaimed throwing his arms out in exasperation. “I’m going to do it again when I leave here.” She laughed harder at him. He stopped and thought about what he just said. “No. I mean…”

“Truly terrifying,” she agreed, cutting off his objections, still mocking his seriousness.

Jason hung his head in defeat. His head snapped up when he heard the batmobile arrive. “And you are safe now. But, I have to go.” His eyes stayed on the batmobile, analyzing the threat to him.

“Now?”

He looked back at her with a wry smile. “Batman and I don’t get along so well. That should tell you something.”

“It tells me even heroes make mistakes,” she said defiantly.

Jason let out a long suffering sigh, but nodded. “Stay safe, Marinette.”

“Will I see you again?” Her eyes were brimming with hope, but her voice was fragile. She tucked a piece of her hair that had come undone while they were escaping behind her ear. Jason’s eyes traced her hand as it moved.

He hated to kill that in her, but he couldn’t allow her to be in his life. He couldn’t bring her down like that. He couldn’t see her again and he couldn’t lie to her. He opened his mouth to answer her, but got a reprieve. “Marinette!” She hadn’t bothered to look at the source of the call, keeping her eyes on Jason. But, the eye contact was broken when she was tackled by a blonde man. “I came as soon as I saw! Are you okay?”

Jason disappeared into the crowd before she recovered from the onslaught. No matter what she believed, he wasn’t good and he wouldn’t be good for her. He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t look for her. He wouldn’t follow her. He wouldn’t give any rogues or henchmen in Gotham any indication that she was special to him. He would protect her in any way that didn’t make her a target. He gave one last look over his shoulder just catching a last glimpse of her searching the crowd. He turned away and continued forward.

Chapter 4

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@jasonette-july-event @jayjayspixiepop @aespades @how-to-function-properly @pawsitivelymiraculous @maribatserver

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - trust

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 27

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: If you read carefully, you knew this; if you didn't: reader was drugged at the party. Hangover from Hell ft. boys being cute, Loki being best friend material and reader fully integrating him into the Gen-Z community via Monster energy drinks and depressive music whilst being sad. I live for Loki/reader friendship tbh.

So folks, this is the last big plot thing before the endgame. I reckon it's about 10-15 chapters left until out happy ending and the next bit is going to focus on developing reader's and Stephen's relationship. There will be smutty parts too - either chapters or interludes, idk, depending on how well they'll integrate into the story.

I love y'all.

Ow, was my first thought upon waking up. My head throbbed something fierce, the pressure behind my eyelids was unbearable and my mouth tasted like a bog on a sunny summer's day. I was warm, from both sides, and one of the bodies felt foreign in everything besides the smell - sandalwood leaked through the lead curtain of alcohol and sex.

Needless to say, I had trouble piecing together the fine details of last night but had enough coherence to remember our... Activities. I was sore and Strange's long arm was still possessively draped over both me and Tony. The luck was on my side as I carefully wiggled out of his grasp, padding to the bedroom on quiet feet. The sorcerer barely moved, only grumbling briefly at the loss of my warmth and immediately quieting, shamelessly snuggling into Tony.

I would have not exaggerated if I said it was the worst hangover of my life. It was baffling, really, because I'd gone way wilder and didn't suffer half as much after effects; my first attempt to brush my teeth ended with my face resting against the toilet bowl, my empty stomach rejecting what little liquid in it was left as the room spun on its axis. That was incredibly embarrassing and I hoped my boys wouldn't wake up to witness my best impression of a bum - and they didn't, both men still sound asleep and interwined like snakes when I put on the shirt closest to me and departed in search of coffee.

My mood only worsened. Steve and Bucky were already up, shoveling an impressive amount of eggs and bacon, as Bucky quietly teased Steve about his own hangover. The blonde man was slightly greenish, disheveled - we traded equally glum looks and nodded to each other in silence. The smell of food made my stomach churn and I retreated, one black coffee in hand, towards Bruce's lab, having been informed by Friday that neither Tony not Stephen planned on waking up.

"Morning, Princess," Bruce smiled kindly, pushing his glasses out of the way to hold me close and give me a sweet kiss. "Had fun? The boys still asleep?"

I giggled at Bruce calling Tony and Stephen boys. "Yeah. I wouldn't be wearing Stephen's shirt if he was up and about, I think." I pointed out the obvious.

Bruce chuckled, holding my face to give me a long, thoughtful look. I stared back, hoping convey my respect and adoration without having to say a word; like Tony, I wasn't particularly apt when it came to talking feelings. Whatever Bruce was looking for, he found it, and sealed it with another kiss, twice as long and twice as sweet. We stood like that, my head on his shoulder and my arms firmly holding him to myself, until the elevator dinged behind the glass wall, revealing a shirtless Stephen and Tony in his pajama pants, both men bickering animatedly.

"Aw shit, here we go again," I rolled my eyes, unhappy about the possibility of the magic being broken. I rather preferred all three men to be like yesterday: friendly, kind and relaxed.

"I will kick them out if I have to," Bruce shrugged, turning me around to face them.

Tony smiled, seeing me, stopping mid-conversation. "Princess, I am disappointed in your lack of manners. You left me with Merlin and he is mean." The engineer unceremoniously snatched me from Bruce and smooched me, hangover breath and all.

"Gross, Tony," I rolled my eyes, giving the man a light shove in the chest. "Morning, Steph," I addressed the third man who had gone back to his usual stoic expression. Just to see his resolve crack, because I loved pushing his buttons, I gave him a good morning kiss too, and was unexpectedly blown away by the eager response from his side. As I pulled back, I noticed his cheeks dusting a light pink.

"I came to get my shirt but I think you'd rather keep it," The sorcerer's fingers caressed my skin beneath the collar of his shirt, voice still low and scratchy from sleep and those magnetic eyes fixated on the exposed flesh of my chest, no trace of previous awkwardness.

"You sure 'bout that?" I pushed one of the sides off, exposing my shoulder, seeing Tony gulp the remainder of my coffee, one hand already messing with the screen that Bruce was focused on. "I think I look better without it," I would never miss an opportunity to tease the uptight man.

"Quite," He grinned, "It's a shame I didn't get to see much last night..." Two could play this game, okay.

"Oh, but you will," Tony piped up suddenly, a hint of smugness in his voice barely covered by Bruce's fond chuckle. I really didn't know what to say, suddenly overwhelmed with the attention, my emotions amplified by the hangover - party drugs tended to exaggerate my anxiety on the comedown.

And what a comedown it was. My social energy ran out very quickly so I complained about a nasty headache and retreated into my room, Bruce's gentle hands pressing a bottle of Ibuprofen into my own. Despite my attempts to tame my rioting body, it got worse before it got better and shortly before lunch, I had thrown up twice more. Pissed off, I ran a bath with cold water and sat in it until I felt somewhat human to prepare myself for a journey to Wanda's apartment - as a last resort, I was going to chug on of Pietro's Monster energy drinks that I knew he kept hidden there.

The retrieval was a success. Cans securely hidden in the kangaroo pocket of Tony's oversized hoodie I had thrown on, I had to make a haste detour to throw up once again - the closest bathroom was in Loki's apartment and I only managed to knock twice before throwing open the door and making a mad dash for the porcelain throne, a very confused Asgardian following my movements with raised eyebrows.

"Hangover from Hell," I croaked once the first wave subsided. Loki nodded in understanding, waved a hand to summon me a water bottle and shut the door behind himself.

As I sat there, desperately trying to understand why was I feeling like utter shit... It clicked. Bile rose to my throat once again, and I just dry heaving, mulling my revelation over and over again.

I didn't take any drugs. I had been drugged. My memories became hazy and dream-like shortly after someone had given me the drink... Someone, who? It was a split-second moment; Sam, even in his drunk state, didn't keep his eyes off me for too long. Maybe it had been someone the team knew? Possibilities began playing out in my head. Cursed was my overactive brain - the anxiety from the leftover drugs was making me panic.

"Fuck, FUCK," My hands shook - I only noticed it because I had spilled water on myself, adding cold and wet to the unpleasant sensations I was already experiencing. "Why am I such a fucking fuck-up." Taking a drink from a stranger seemed downright idiotic now. Middle school bullshit.

"Are you alright?" Loki's worried voice interrupted my inner monologue.

"Yes," I replied, voice cracking. "No. I don't fucking know."

The door all but flew open, the Asgardian taking several long strides to take a good long look at me. The frown on his face tells me all I needed to know about my physical and mental state.

A slender hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "What happened?"

I laughed tersely, feeling tears to begin welling in the corners of my eyes. "I'm an idiot," Seeing his face get annoyed briefly, I conceded: "I got drugged yesterday. My drink."

The hand that he had slid between my shoulder blades froze. I felt his whole body go rigid and his nostrils flare, the smell of ozone and something foreign - magic - filling the small space. The air around us became charged with the power of his anger. "Pardon?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

I physically fought with the need to flinch away from him, settling for lowering my eyes and staring at the dark stain on my hoodie. "I got carried away dancing. Someone handed me a drink and my stupid ass just shotgunned it," I confessed, picking at the wet spot. "And I can't tell anybody because I had a threesome with Stephen and Tony," I suddenly realised, my voice raising in pitch. "They're gonna think I didn't want it and feel bad. You know how Tony blames himself for everything under the sun..." Another wave of dizziness and nausea hit me as I leaned against the wall closest to me.

"Alright," Loki conceded after a brief pause. "We absolutely are telling the others. I'll make sure they understand," The Asgardian stated firmly in a tone that bore no argument. Seeing me lift my head to protest, he interrupted me before I could say anything: "Did you... Did you want it?" He asked me, hooking a single finger under my chin to look me in the eye.

I nodded, feeling my face heat up.

"You're not lying. The team knows of my ability to detect lies. Nobody will blame anyone..." Loki trailed off, obviously already plotting something. I wished it were a prank both of us were conspiring on instead of... Trying to make sense of this cluster fuck of a shit show. The circus called, they seemed to have left their clowns behind. "Although I will have a word with Sam." The Asgardian muttered darkly.

"No, it's not his fault. I just got too relaxed, I need to pucker up and be responsible for myself," I protested, damn well knowing it wasn't the Bird's fault. Everyone was drunk and I should've known better.

"It's not yours either," Loki sneered, seeing right through my self-loathing. It took a deep, slow sigh for him to calm down. His expression softened and the hand that was on my back resumed the gentle stroking as he scooted closer to me to press my side against his chest. "Vile people of this kind aren't exclusive to Midgard. It could have happened to anyone."

I nodded, my logical part briefly taking over as the waves of nausea and dizziness waned. I stifled a giggle, coming to another sudden revelation. "You holding up my hair as I barf out my hangover? That makes you qualified for the position of my Best Friend," I stated with a snort.

Loki chuckled, relaxing bit by bit. "I accept the position," His voice was unusually soft and a little bit shaky; I chose to tactfully ignore it. "Shall I call for assembly in the war room?"

I sighed, the dread and anxiety creeping it's way back in. "Can we just... Wait a bit? I have something- hold on-" I rummaged around my pocket, taking out two cans of Monster. Loki eyed them curiously and I extended one to him. "It probably won't do much for you but for me it's a last-resort hangover cure." I popped open the metal cap, seeing him do the same. "Be warned though, it tastes kinda funky if you're not used to it," I announced the disclaimer but it simply egged Loki on.

The scrunched up face he made was pretty funny. "It's sour but sickeningly sweet at the same time? I can't tell," He briefly eyed the written ingredients on the can.

"There are a bunch of flavors. Pietro likes the plain one, I like the purple one better, it's not so tongue-burning." I paused to inhale loudly. "If this is what college life looks like, I don't want to go," Mustering up my courage and gathering my balls in a knot, with one broad motion I closed my nose and poured the carbonated acid down my throat until my eyes watered. "Gimme a minute," I hiccuped, trying to keep it down.

Wide-eyed, Loki took a chaste sip of his own drink, eyeing me warily. He looked part impressed part disgusted with the little stunt. "I am pretty certain that is counter-productive."

"Caffeine make brain and body go skrrt," I argued back. "Friday, play my "grant me the sweet release of death" playlist. I'm upset," I announced and the AI obliged silently, the first notes of Placebo's 'Exit Wounds' beginning to play. If I was going to mop in a stranger's bathroom, I was going to do it with style. Even if said style was just simply stealing in my own misery with emo background music.

Loki stared at me, I stared back, both of us lost in our respective minds. At one point, he began swaying to the music slightly, resting the cool tin of the can against his cheek; I followed suit, mouthing along to some of the lyrics. It took us about a dozen songs to finally finish the liquid acid that was Monster energy drink and my ass felt like the bathroom tile itself: flat and hard.

"Do you ever feel like the universe just hates you for no fucking reason?" I groused, taking Loki's outstretched hand and slowly feeling the blood rush back to my legs.

"You wouldn't believe," He rolled his eyes in solidarity, vanishing away the empty containers. "Norns, give me a Hel-damned break."

I laced his arm through mine as we exited his apartment, feeling considerably less upset than I was before. I couldn't protect myself, but one look at Loki's sullen, irritated expression was bound to scare off anyone who dared to interrupt our mission.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Territorial {One Shot} ***

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst, NSFW, SMUT

Words: 7.2k

Note: Oh boy, I got carried away with this one. Please excuse the 7k words. I didn’t know I did it until it was too late. Hope you guys like this. Thank you for reading!

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive--Kinda***

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

What do you do when you are a single lady who is also a super busy actress who has too much going on to be bogged down by dating as a celeb? Or what do you do when you have needs that you need tending, but you don’t want the headache of complications? You get yourself a friend with benefits. So that’s what you did.

Okay, you didn’t go out seeking a friend with benefits situation. It just happened. Thanks to a friend of a friend who was friends with what they called “a sweet guy who was also gorgeous and good in bed,” happened to be at a party you were at and introduced you to none other than Chris Evans. You know of him, everyone in the whole Hollywood fame circle did. You also knew of his reputation. He was a playboy who liked to have a good time. You didn’t knock it.

That night after you were introduced and he passed the twenty-minute test, you allowed your friends to wander off, leaving the two of you to talk. That talk ended up being a good two hours. He wasn’t boring or arrogant, and he was quite funny. As you spoke, you were mentally going over your checklist.

Not Boring, check. Not arrogant, check. Funny, check. Smart, check. Handsome, check, and check. Tall, check. Nice lips, check. Sexy, all the fucking checks. He was hitting all the checks on your checklist. After another two hours, the two of you still hadn’t managed to wander off to speak to anyone else. Your friends texted several times, giving you your outs, but you didn’t take any of them. Chris, of course, laughed it off because he knew just what was happening.

By the end of the night, you’d exchanged numbers and made plans to hang out sometime in the coming week or two. Three days passed before he called you. You pretended not to notice, but you noticed. When he called, he joked that he had to play it cool. That night you had dinner, which lasted another four hours. Things were going great, so great that you saw each other six times before the week was done. Each time you found more and more you liked about him. You had good chemistry, and things just felt natural with him.

One night on the beach after a lowkey picnic dinner, he made his move with a star shooting kiss. It was that good. It quickly became more and more passionate, but the two of you pulled away at the same time. He whispered that he liked you a lot, you whispered it back, and the kissing continued. Then again, the two of you pulled back you said you had a lot going on and couldn’t afford distractions, he shared the same sentiments said his workload was about to pick up. That didn’t stop the kissing, though. On the third pull back, both of you said the words at the same time; “nothing serious.” Both of you laughed about it and nodded your agreement before hurrying back to his car to race back to your place because it was closer for one of the best sexual experiences you’d ever had.

Nothing serious turned to whenever we’re in the same town. That turned to whenever we have an itch, and finally, it turned into just whenever. Normal fuck buddy arrangements operated with meeting, having sex, and leaving soon after. That never happened between you and Chris. You’d often go out, grab dinner, see a movie, go to a play, a game, whatever. You’d talk about everything, laugh like he was the funniest comedian, flirt your asses off to go back to each other’s houses, and have sensual, teasing, passionate toe-curling, back-arching hair ruining sex. Afterward, you’d cuddle for a little, watch some tv, talk, do it again and again, or however many times it needed to be done, you’d both fall asleep and depending on whose house it was one would leave the next morning after breakfast in bed together.

Eleven months in and nothing had changed.

“Shit, yes. Right there.” You were so close. Chris continued to pound into you at just the right angle. You could feel the goosebumps prickling your skin, the telltale sign of your impending orgasm--the more goosebumps, the more intense. Chris knew it too.

“You don’t gotta tell me where. I know what I’m doin’.” He brutally snapped his hips forward, delivering such a powerful stroke you splayed across the bed face down.

With your face smushed in the down comforters, you moaned and cursed all at the same time.

“What was that?” Chris slapped your ass and moaned no doubt getting lost in the way it jiggled. Turning your head to the side, you bit your bottom lip.

“I said fuck that shit hurt,” you repeated. He smiled and grabbed your hips to pull you back up onto your knees. Slowly he slid back inside your warmth. Both of you moaned together. He allowed you to adjust for a few moments as he kissed along your spine up to your neck. Once there, he bit down onto your skin making you gasp.

“You love that, huh?” You nodded as he held onto your shoulders and began plowing inside of you again. You grabbed the sheets and quickly got lost in the pleasure he was giving you. He sped up his thrusts but never missed his mark. Your moans got louder and louder; you could feel your orgasm creeping back up. Suddenly Chris slowed and hovered over your back to kiss your jaw.

“I missed you,” his voice was deep, and it sent shivers down your spine.

“I can tell.” Chris ground his hips into you, sending his dick to press against every wall you had. When he reached around to circle your clit, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

“I mean it,” he added. You smiled and peeped at him over your shoulder.

“I missed you.” As if those were the words he needed he snapped his hips forward so hard your head jerked forward then back, Chris held on to your shoulders and used it as leverage to have you see stars.

“Oh, fuck, yes. Uh-huh. Yes, Chris!”

In a matter of seconds, the two of you came together and rode the waves of pleasure that was so familiar between the two of you. When the two of you crashed to the bed, Chris remained nestled deep inside of you as he tossed the throw blanket over the two of you before he hugged you to his chest. You moaned.

“That was nice.”

“Nice? Watch your mouth.” You giggled and pushed your ass back onto him some more, which elicited a deep moan from him. Chris dropped another kiss onto your shoulder.

“So, you know that party tomorrow night?”

“What party?”

“The It party, the one that’s after the It luncheon,” Chris explained.

“Oh, right. Yeah. What about it?”

“Are you staying in town for it?”

“Yeah, I’m here for a week or two, I think. I actually have to go to that stupid luncheon.” You groaned. You hated the horse and pony shows. Hated having to mingle and shake hands and smile and be pretty. It was tiring.

“I know how much you hate them. Since I have to make an appearance at both, let’s just go together. I’ll distract you from the hoopla and even find some excuse to whisk you away when things get weird.” You snorted and laughed.

“How in the world do you plan on distracting me? Dragging me into a bathroom part of the plan?”

“It could be.” Again, he kissed your skin.

“Listen, if you keep kissing me like that, we’ll be too tired to go anywhere tomorrow.” Chris rolled onto you and kneed your thighs apart.

“Sounds fine by me. That way, I won’t have to peel a fancy dress off of you to get you naked and here like this.” He thrust forward joining your bodies again. You moaned and wrapped your legs around him.

“But the fun is peeling off the dress.” Chris smiled and kissed you, beginning another round of mind-numbing sex.

~~~~~~

“So, the two of you are dating now.” You rolled your eyes at your best friend, Alicia’s sly statement.

“Dating? What? No. We’re not dating. We’re going to the luncheon and party afterward. Where did you hear date?”

Your friends all looked at you as if you were slow. The four of you were sitting and getting hair and makeup done.

“What!?”

“Is he picking you up?”

“In the chauffeured car, yes,” you responded to Valentina’s question.

“Are you guys planning on matching?”

“Coordinating and matching are very different,” you defended while looking at Bianca.

“Y/N! Oh my god, how are you blind to this. You’re dating your fuck buddy,” Alicia hammered home.

“What! No, I am not. We are not doing anything out of the ordinary. We have dinners, hang out, get it in, and then leave. None of that says dating,” you defended.

“Uh, yes, it does. Fuck buddies bypass all of that nonsense. You fuck in the car, then get dropped off, go hard at the house, and then leave. There are no calls, texts, dinners, hanging out. All of that you mentioned is called dating. Hence you’ve been dating your fuck buddy,” Alicia finished.

You sat there thinking about her words. You’d never stopped and thought about this. It was all as easy and as simple as breathing. Chris fell into your life and meshed with it. There was no adjusting or rearranging. The two of you just worked. You enjoyed being around each other.

“Aren’t you supposed to like being around your fuck buddy?”

“Not past fucking.”

You had a mental and I oop moment that you knew you could let out. You liked being around Chris.

“Listen man; y’all are not going to have me in my head for the next eighteen hours. Nothing is happening between us. We’re being each other’s wing person for these events. End of discussion.”

For the next hour or so, you got beautified and tried to push what they’d said out of your mind. As far as you were concerned, it was not true. When you got home, you got into your outfit and prepared yourself for the next few hours. When the doorbell rang, it was almost one. He knew you hated arriving anywhere on time. As you approached the door, you could see Chris’s back turned. His navy checkered slacks and brown jacket. You opened the door, and he spun around, holding white orchids.

“Wow.”

“I know, I look just as good in clothes as I do out of them, right.”

He smiled and shook his head as he leaned in and kissed you. What was to be a quick peck turned into another and another before you had a mini make-out session in your doorway.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes, let me put these down,” you answered before you hurried inside to place the orchids on a shelf. When you came back, you had your clutch, and it was time to go.

The drive wasn’t long; it went by pretty quick thanks to your constant banter—banter that had been there from day one. You found yourself looking over him and admitting how he looked in his outfit. He looked good. He always looked good even when his team chose questionable pieces. At those times, you didn’t bite your tongue in shooting him a message telling him how bad the outfit was.

“Is this outfit up to standards?”

You snorted and shook your head as you bounced him with your shoulder. Instead of moving back to your side, you remained leaning on him. “If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere with you.”

“Oh. So, it’s like that. Wow. Here I thought we were friends,” Chris feigned hurt.

“You didn’t let me finish. Friends don’t let friends go out looking a hot mess, so I wouldn’t have gone anywhere with you until you matched my drip,” you teased. Chris laughed loudly, slapping his hand across his chest. You smiled. It was a laugh you loved, his genuine laugh.

“Laugh if you want to. You know I have style, Evans.” He nodded and kissed your temple. It was an action that gave you goosebumps—goosebumps that were usually achieved during sex with him. Sensing your stiff demeanor, Chris looked at your face.

“You okay?” You nodded more enthusiastically than you should have and hoped it didn’t come off weird.

Thankfully, you arrived at your location just in time. With your hand draped inside of Chris’s arm, the two of you walked into the entrance of the venue, a sprawling home in the hills. You warmly smiled at the passing faces of those you knew and didn’t know.

“Perfect little fake smile you have there,” Chris teased.

Through your perfect little fake smile, you responded, “Not everyone can be charismatic Chris Evans. Some of us have to fake it till we make it.” Chris snorted beside you as the two of you kept walking through the venue. Within minutes you were surrounded by people all complimenting your outfit and expressing how happy they were to see you.

You and Chris quickly got busy with mingling and small talk. You talked about everything from previous roles to impending ones and everything in between. The entire time you kept your smile up and even added other pleasantries—a hand touch here, a tossed back head laugh there, and infinite cheek kisses. It was exhausting. Halfway through mingling, you realized you and Chris had been torn apart. He was entertaining a group of women off to the side. The smiles on the faces of all the women told you his charm was in full effect, and he had each and every one of them under his blue-eyed spell.

One of the women touched his bicep while she laughed a very fake laugh. Yeah, he was funny, but he wasn’t that funny. She was trying to inflate his ego. You rolled your eyes but continued to watch. Chris flashed one of his lopsided grins at the woman in the bright yellow body con dress. You knew her as Brandy Hannover, an up and coming actress. He usually didn’t have a type, but from his history, he liked blonds and brunettes, he could go either way. You were the only odd choice in his dating history. You had to mentally slap yourself when you registered “dating.” Then you had to remind yourself; you’re not dating.

Brandy looked him over as she licked her lips. When hers and Chris’s eyes met, you felt a pang of something unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. Their glance lasted seconds, but seconds was all it took for you to want to vomit. Chris looked from her and immediately found your eyes. You flashed him your fake smile and turned back to those in your group to join back into the conversation, ignoring the new uneasiness you felt.

An hour passed, then two, and three. By the time five rolled around, you’d had way too much Bellini’s and mimosas and were ready to leave. As you thought it, Chris found you and expressed the same sentiments. Relieved, you wasted no time making your exit and getting back into the car. The drive back was quieter than the trip going. Chris tried to make small talk, but your short responses shut him down. You couldn’t keep your head in the present. You kept thinking back to watching him talk to Brandy. You didn’t know why it rubbed you the wrong way, and that was what bothered you. Before you knew it, the car was outside your door.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine. Too much champagne, you know it makes me loopy.”

He nodded but didn’t speak again for a few moments.

“Have you decided on the color for tonight?”

You were supposed to tell him the color of your dress so he wouldn’t clash with you. you hadn’t narrowed it down yet, so you shrugged. “Wear whatever. It doesn’t really matter. It’s not nearly that serious.”

Chris looked confused, but you didn’t want to explain. Gathering your things, you went to open the door, but the driver did it for you.

“Y/N, you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. So—eight?” He looked like he had more to say, but he was contemplating if he should. With a defeated sigh, he nodded and repeated the time you’d agreed to pick you up. You nodded and walked to your front door without a glance back.

~~~~~~~~

That night the doorbell rang a little after eight. You were in a better mood now and actually couldn’t wait for the chance to drink some wine. Your friends were going to be there, and you knew they’d make you have fun. You smiled when you saw his crisp blue suit with black lapels, your jaw dropped. God, he was gorgeous. You almost said it too.

“I had a feeling you’d pick the rose gold dress,” Chris informed. Your smile said it all. He knew you well.

By the time you got to the party, the paparazzi were out and snapping pics of everyone in their path. When you and Chris walked by arm in arm, they shouted numerous questions.

“Y/N, Y/N, Chris over here. Are you guys dating now? There have been tons of rumors. Is this your official outing as a couple?”

You looked at Chris, who was rolling his eyes and giving you a silly face.

“Uh, no. Chris and I are just friends as always.” You looked at him again, but the silly face was gone. He looked a lot more serious. His eyebrows were knitted and jaw tight. You wondered if you’d said something to warrant the change.

Inside the venue, it was all opulence and luxury. It was filled with who was who of Hollywood. It was loud; the sounds of Normani’s Motivation was playing. There were a few places for dancing and quite a few tables for socializing. Everyone looked to be having a good time. Chris led you through the space on his arm. Occasionally the two of you would stop and greet a few people you knew before you continued on.

After a few minutes, your friends found you, and it was then Chris made his clean break for the bar.

“You look incredible,” Valentina elated. You smiled and did a spin so she could see the whole outfit.

“Damn, boobs are out on display.” The four of you laughed as you looked around at your surroundings.

“They had a good turn out.”

“Yeah. No one needs an excuse to come out and drink on someone else’s dime, especially if it means it’ll possibly add to the notches on their bedpost,” Bianca said. It was true. You were only here because you half had to. In Hollywood, you had to make sure your face wasn’t forgotten.

The song changed to an oldie, and the four of you jumped up and busted out your moves. The four of you made your way to one of the dance floors and got your party on. You parted the high split at your thigh and dropped a little low and winded your hips. Your friends followed your lead and showcased their skills. The four of you sang along to the song.

“I’m on the floor, floor, I love to dance. Now give me more, more. Till I can’t stand. Get on the floor, floor like it’s your last chance. If you want more, more, then here I am.”

That was when you got into it even more. When the hook popped, you lost it.

“We’re higher than a motherfucker!” The four of you jumped like you were in a mosh pit and didn’t care who was watching. Soon a few others joined in with the four of you, and then the floor around you was filled.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Chris leaning against the bar watching with a soft smile on his lips. He raised his drink and shook his head. Your shrug said it all. He knew how you were. The party didn’t start until you walk in. You nudged him over, but he shook his head. Before you continued to dance, you stuck your tongue out at him.

You spent the next hour on that dance floor with your girls dancing your ass off with plenty of drink filled pit stops. You had no idea who was in charge of the music, but they were killing it. Usually, the music at these things was so bland, but tonight they must have had a good DJ. By the time Chris came over more than an hour had passed. He handed you a refilled glass of your Bacardi on ice. That was when the music changed to something new from the Jonas Brothers. You couldn’t lie; it was a good one.

You pulled Chris into a dance before he could back off. Though he tried to make his getaway, you quickly stopped him by sliding before him, blocking him with your hip. He snorted and shook his head. You crooked your finger to him, telling him to come to you. When he walked to you, he looked like he didn’t want to. You crossed your arms and pouted, and that was when he took your hands and began moving to the beat. In no time, the two of you were doing some mixed up jive dances around the dancefloor. When the hook came on, you imitated Danny Zuko and Sandy’s dancing at the fair. Chris wasted no time joining in though the two of you laughed your ass off the entire time.

This is what you loved. You had a good time with him no matter what. Towards the end of the song, you and Chris were close together with his arms around your waist.

“I can’t believe you have me dancing in front of all these people, showing my white boy moves.” You laughed loudly, throwing your head back. This one was genuine.

“And you give me the fake enthusiastic laugh,” he teased.

“Oh, stop it. You know that one was real. I don’t fake anything with you.” Your eyes locked and you wiggled your eyebrows at him. Chris bit his bottom lip and sank his fingers into your back, holding you firmer.

“Good to know.” You noticed how dark his eyes got, and you knew just what it meant. Thankfully this was not the place.

“How do you feel about finding a balcony or closet with me?” you dropped your jaw in faux shock.

“Really, Christopher? Here?”

You were not surprised. This man was the energizer fucking bunny. He was always down to get his tip wet. In the last eleven months, you’d had sex in the most unimaginable places. He may be white, but he was anything but vanilla.

“Oh, come on. you’re not down?” All of this isn’t working for you?” Again, you laughed loudly.

“Your Gemini cocky is showing.” He smiled and brought his lips to your ear and pressed them to your skin.

“My Gemini cocky wants to show right here, right now, if you catch my drift.” He finished with a small bite to your earlobe.

That was all it took, and he knew it.

“I can feel your nipples through your dress. Follow me in four minutes.”

You watched him walk off and tried to conceal your excitement. There was nothing like public sex. The possibility of being caught was just too intoxicating and exhilarating. He’d given you some of your best orgasms in an open space. Before he disappeared, he peeped back at you and licked his lips before giving you his signature molten smolder. Jesus the man was going to be the death of you. You looked around looking to see if anyone had seen anything. When you were satisfied, you made it to the bar. You needed a stiff drink.

“What’s your poison?” Looking to your right, you saw a tall drink of milk. His hair was blonde and hung loose and was the perfect frame for his strong jawline. He was gorgeous. He sort of reminded you of Chris, but his vibe and aura were completely different, but still sexy.

Realizing you were gawking, you cleared your throat and looked to the bartender. “Um—uh--,” you stuttered. This was different, you thought.

“Speechless or unsure?” you looked back to him and saw his perfect smile. Lord have mercy, you thought.

“Both.”

“I’m Charlie; maybe I can help.” You nodded and watched as he spoke to the bartender. His mouth was beautiful. You instantly began to wonder just what that mouth did. As if he could hear your thoughts, Charlie looked at you with dark eyes.

“I can help with that too.”

You were too horny for this, and it was all Chris’s fault. You remembered Chris and slyly checked your phone to see what time you had.

“Am I boring or--,” Charlie trailed off.

“I’m Y/N, and no, no, you’re not I just—was supposed to find a friend.”

“Oh, so it has nothing to do with you not being interested?”

He had you there. Were you interested? He was beautiful and sexy, and you were sure he could be a good guy.

“It’s just—I’m not really doing the dating thing right now.”

“We can be friends—every good relationship starts with friendship.”

“Relationship?”

“Definitely, this chemistry can’t go anywhere else but up.”

You were impressed. He was direct but not pushy. You liked it. Charlie then took your phone and held it up to you showing your lock pad. He didn’t say one word; all he did was stare in your eyes. You found yourself tapping in your lock code, giving him access to your phone. You watched his hands as they tapped away and admired the clean groom of his nails, you then looked up to his face and continued to admire the beard and mustache combo. He was fine.

Charlie held your phone back to you with a smile. “Call me.” You smiled and nodded. From the corner of your eye, you saw Chris watching. He didn’t look happy.

“Uh, I gotta—go. It was nice meeting you.” You tried to calmly walk over to Chris, but the sea of people on the dancefloor made it tricky. As you got close, you saw him walk away, but then you lost him. You were left spinning around on the dance floor, looking for which direction he went. That was when you shot him a message.

MSG: Where’d you go?

“You know, I think what you’re doing needs a partner.”

You spun around and saw an incredibly tall buff dark-haired man with a sweet smile on his face.

“I’m sorry?”

“Dancing, you’re all alone,” he filled in. You smiled and nervously laughed. Your mind had totally taken that somewhere else.

“Right.”

“What’d you think I meant?” His sly grin said he suspected just what you thought he meant. You pinched your lips and shrugged, which made him laugh.

“Pablo.” He held his hand out for you to shake, which you did.

“Y/N.” The moment your hands touched, there was an electric shock. Both of you pulled back with smiles.

“That was a first,” Pablo informed. You smiled and nodded.

“I have to admit; I’ve been watching you all night. Not in a crazy, creepy stalker way but a mesmerized way.”

“Is that any less creepy or stalker like?”

Again, he laughed, then nodded. “You have a point.”

His smile was great, open, and free.

“I wasn’t trying to be creepy. I just—haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you.”

“It’s the dress, the color just—draws you in,” you explained. His eyes slowly roamed over your body, and every inch he looked, he looked as if he were in pain but also blown away.

“While the dress is—infuckingcredible, like really wow, it’s not the dress. I’m sure it’s the woman wearing the dress.”

He was smooth, you thought. The way he slid that in there was seamless.

“I just had to come over and tell you all of this before I lost my chance,” Pablo admitted.

“Lost your chance?”

“It’s clear you have the attention of every man in here. I had to what do they say—shoot my shot.” You laughed loudly while pressing your hand to your cleavage.

“Wow. Good one.”

“Gotta stay up with the times. So, what do you say, do I have a shot?”

You studied him and looked him over and admitted he was gorgeous. You didn’t get a bad vibe from him, either. You couldn’t believe this. You now had two equally beautiful men vying for your attention while you had Chris. You saw him them hanging to the back, watching you. Instantly you felt guilty as if you shouldn’t be talking to any other man but him. He sure as hell looked like he was thinking it.

“Tell you what, take my number and give me a call if you think I have a shot.”

Pablo’s voice brought your attention back to his face. You unlocked your phone and took his number. Once it was locked in, you said your goodbyes then looked back to the spot you saw Chris. Again, he was gone.

An hour later, you’d had enough of the party. You’d sent Chris numerous messages, and he hadn’t responded to any of them. You were pissed at this point—pissed and horny. You found your friends and told them you were ready to go. They wanted to stay, so you left alone. On the drive back to your house, you looked between Charlie’s number and Pablo’s. It never ceased to amaze you the universe’s sense of humor. Usually, when you weren’t looking, you found situations to get yourself into as opposed to when you’re looking. When you were close, you looked at your text exchange between Chris and contemplated sending yet another one. You were so annoyed with him you decided against it.

Once inside, you took a shower and sat in your bed with a bottle of wine ready to channel surf. After about thirty or so minutes of relaxation, your doorbell rang. It was damn near three in the morning, and you didn’t know who it could be. You checked your Ring app and saw Chris at your door. His suit jacket was missing leaving him in his crisp white shirt. In one hand he held a bottle, and the other was braced on the frame. His tie was loosened around his neck with a few buttons on his white shirt undone. Rolling your eyes, you got up and made your way to it as he continued to ring over and over.

When you flung open the door, you were ready to push him away. “You have some nerve showing up here after what you did,” you slid out.

“Me? After what I did? You have some nerve showing up here after what you did!”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “I live here, dumbass!”

“Yeah, so!”

He was drunk. It made no sense doing this now. “Go home, Chris, sleep it off.”

“Now I have to go home? Why got someone inside?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Excuse me? Who would I have--,”

“You tell me. I saw you tonight with not one but two douchbags.” He held up three fingers instead of two. You rubbed your temples; he was going to give you a headache.

“And you know they’re douchbags how?”

“Oh come on, Y/N, you can see it. If you weren’t blinded, you’d have seen it too.”

“Blinded? By what? Chris, you’re drunk and making no sense. Go home.”

“No! I’m gonna say this. You had me waiting and waiting so you could flirt with dickhead one and dickhead two. That was cold, Y/N.”

“I didn’t expect them to corner me. You didn’t answer my calls or texts. You left me there, Chris. We went together, and you left me.”

“Oh, I thought you’d get a ride from one of them. You sure looked like you wanted it.”

Your jaw dropped as you stared at him.

“What is your problem right now, Chris? I don’t get all twisted when you flirt with every Brenda, Brandy, and Bernice. I just let you do your thing. What the hell?!”

“Oh please, when was the last time I flirted with anyone but you? Months! Fuck, it’s been almost a year Y/N.”

“You flirted today! I saw you give her the look. Don’t fuck with me, Chris.”

You walked away inside your house then. He was really pissing you off. You heard your door slam and knew he showed himself in.

“You want them to fuck with you, right. That’s what you want, Y/N?”

“So what if I do? So what? Why does it matter? We’re friends. We’re—this was your idea.”

“Don’t pull that, it was as much yours as mine,” Chris countered.

“Exactly. What’s changed? We were good last night. What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“I’m fucking tired of doing this. We do everything a couple does. Do you see that? We go on dates, fly out to each other, hang with each other’s friends. You’ve met my family; we have sex, we sleepover, cuddle. We do it all. What the fuck did you expect?”

You were stumped. What exactly was he saying? Was he saying what it sounded like he was saying? The look on his face was an exasperated one. He looked genuinely at his wit’s end and completely flushed.

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?”

He scoffed and tossed the bottle he held into a nearby chair and approached you. Once close enough, he crashed his lips to yours and lifted you in his arms. Your brain was still in shock, but your body needed no adjustment. You wrapped your legs around him and kissed him back with just as much passion as he was dishing out. Your moans competed in the hallway before he made his way up the stairs toward your bedroom.

Once there, he dropped you on the bed and pressed his body onto yours. He felt so fucking good. Quickly Chris undid the rest of his clothes. In a matter of seconds, he was naked pulling your tee shirt over your hips to push your panties to the side. When he thrust into you, it was a quick and rough movement that stole your breath. Chris loudly groaned in your ear as his body shook on top of yours. The pace he set was a fast one, one that said he had something to prove, one that was laced with aggression. You felt his meaning behind every deep, and bruising thrust.

“Fuck, Chris!” He arched onto his forearms and looked down at you as he sped the way his hips rolled. You arched your head back and wrapped your legs more tightly around him, digging your heels into the flesh of his tight ass.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” He bit down on your neck, and you saw stars. This was the quickest orgasm you’d had in months. He didn’t slow down while you clenched around him. He kept his pace but increased the loudness of his moans.

“Fuck Y/N. You feel so fucking good.”

This was the first time he’d ever gone raw. You both were meticulous about protection. The feel of him inside of you this way was pushing you so much closer to the edge.

“Mmmm, fuck this pussy, Chris!”

“Whose pussy is it? Huh? Is it mine?” He’d asked this before, plenty of times, and you always said his without hesitation, but this time, you felt he meant it differently. The realization of that made you lose your shit and come again.

“Oh, gooooooood!” Chris grunted and slammed into you with slow, precise strokes that only prolonged your release.

“I can’t hear you, Y/N. Is this pussy mine?”

You nodded, unable to find an ounce of control. “Yes. Mmm, yes. Fuck this pussy, Chris. Fuck your pussy.”

“With pleasure!” He looked devious as if he had nothing good planned for your pussy.

Chris arced your ass up, changing the angle on you, and that was it. You screamed, feeling every single inch pound into you. He’d never been like this before. It was new, and you loved it a little bit too much.

“Mine!” He didn’t even sound sane anymore. He sounded crazed. Who knew you liked crazed? He slammed his hips into you so fast you had to hold onto the sheets for some kind of leverage. He was impossibly deep, so deep, you found yourself trying to pull back. The look he gave you was warning enough.

“Take all this dick, Y/N. It’s yours.” Chris threw his head back and groaned loudly before his thrusts became sloppy. You could feel his body shake, and you knew he was close. You held onto his hand and began rocking on him rolling your body like a wave. Chris dropped his head to look back at you. His eyes were wide. He was asking you the question. Your whines became louder, but you didn’t loosen your grip. You were giving him your answer. His eyes remained trained on yours from there, and it made the moment that much more intense. Your pants blended together as did the sweaty slap your bodies made together.

Chris grunted then whimpered before he slammed into you once, twice and a third time as he made the most primal sound you’d ever heard. Upon hearing it, you came with such a force all you saw was blinding light behind your eyes.

“Ahhhh!” The two of you screamed together as you rode the waves of your pleasure. You felt like you were going to rip apart and couldn’t handle it, as you began to move, you came again, and that was when you felt the geyser-like gush come from you. Again, you screamed and dug your nails into his hand.

An eternity seemed to pass before either of you were coherent or even able to put speech together. The feel of Chris’ fingertips across your hip was what brought you back to reality. You had no idea how you’d gotten on top of him, but one thing was certain, he was still buried deep within you. You lazily moaned against his chest.

“Mmm.”

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm.” That was literally the only thing you could respond with. You doubted you had a voice anymore; you weren’t even sure you had legs. You lazily opened your eyes, instantly regretting it. The sun was peeking in through your sheer curtains. You didn’t even realize the two of you fell asleep.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chris brought his fingers up and down your spine, lulling you back to sleep.

“It’s morning,” he said again when you didn’t respond for several moments. Again, you moaned, this time you shifted but only slightly. Chris moaned, the vibration had you opening your eyes.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough. Shit, I’m sorry for everything I said. I was drunk.”

“Oh so.” Chris snorted then groaned again.

“I’m sorry. That’s not a side I ever wanted to show you.”

“Your drunk, jealous, petty, and dom side?” His voice was doing things to you. You were so wide open for this man it was crazy and the final nail in the coffin.”

“I was not petty.”

“Oh, you were petty. I think you would beat several women at it.” Chris laughed, but slowly the silence returned.

“Y/N.”

You moaned your response again. He didn’t speak right away, though; he waited for nearly a minute before he quietly spoke.

“I need the words. I need--the titles, the ex--exclusivity.”

The words hung in the air between you. Your eyes were wide open now, but you didn’t speak. You didn’t know what to say. After a few minutes, he gently lifted your head and turned it to him. Resting your chin on his chest, the two of you gazed at each other.

“I need you. I need us the way we’ve always been, but so much more.”

It was then you understood what you felt yesterday at the luncheon and what you’ve been gradually feeling over the last few months.

“I love you, Y/N.” Your heart was racing as fast as his. It was cute. You raised up on him, changing the angle of his half-hardened cock. Both of you moaned. When you sat there looking at his lazy drooped eyes, you almost laughed. Of course, this is where the two of you ended up.

“If you don’t feel the same, just say it. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

“I love you too, Chris.”

“Really?” You nodded and smiled. He was adorable when he was insecure.

“What about those two idiots from--,” Chris began before you groaned and got off of him. Chris sucked in a breath and released a groan. When you came back, you had your phone in hand holding it out to him.

“Take it. The code is 081119.” Chris cautiously took your phone and tapped in the code as you sat on his thighs. “Go to contacts. Find Charlie and Pablo. Do whatever you want with them.” You watched Chris as he searched through and found what you told him to. He looked at you as if he were thinking about something. You didn’t waver, only gave him a disinterested look.

“Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.” He smiled and tapped away.

“Your services won’t be needed. I’m in love with someone else, and he has the biggest, thickest--.” You lurched for your phone as he pulled it back to flip you onto your back. His laugh was loud.

“Don’t be a dick about it, Chris. I may still have to work with them one day,” you whined. Chris showed you the blank screen. He hadn’t typed anything.

“I can be a real dick; just remember that.” You smiled, seeing more of his possessive, territorial side.

“You know, this possessiveness and territorial alpha thing is really hot.”

“Yeah? It turns you on?”

“Little bit.” You smiled and allowed him to spread your legs with his free hand. When you felt the heaviness of his member pressing against your slit, you moaned.

“Are you watching?” you looked at your screen and watched him tap the delete contact button. He did the same for both of them then tossed your phone aside.

“Mine!” You smiled and bit your bottom lip.

“Mine,” you repeated. Chris smiled and kissed you softly before he pulled back and slid into you, connecting your bodies with a smooth stroke.

“You have me as daddy in your phone.” His smile was so full you were sure it was his cocky side coming out.

“I’ll show you, daddy.”

Chris pulled a moan from you, and you knew it was just the beginning. There was nothing like we’re officially together sex, especially territorial we’re officially together sex.

#territorial one shot #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #chris evans smut #pablo schreiber #charlie hunnam #smut fanfiction

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grublordcreations · 4 years

Text

The Cafe

A commission I did for the sweet taloyo!

It’s a human!AU where Hide and Haise are freshman in college and have a class together. Hide has a crush on Haise and the following is their first meeting/date :^)

if you’d like a writing commission, I charge $0.01 per word! You can contact me through this tumblr or my email at [email protected]

The first couple months of college for Hide were…surprisingly boring. Though he was easy-going and friendly, he failed to lock down a friendship that went passed pleasant greetings and discussions about the weather. Instead of making stereotypical college memories, he spent most of his time reading. Hide didn’t expect to be partying all the time, but he thought at the very least he’d have a person to eat dinner with by now. Even though he sometimes became bogged down with feelings of isolation and loneliness, he thought himself lucky that he had books to keep him company.

On a particularly glum afternoon, Hide stared down at his notes, half paying attention to the Intro to Literature lecture. It was another student presentation day, so he wasn’t pressed about giving his undivided attention. The assignment was to find themes, symbols, and motifs in a text provided by the professor—which was something Hide already considered himself a master of. Rain pattered against the cracked windows, and the humidity made his blonde hair stick to this forehead. As he wiped the hair away, the professor flipped on the lights as the presenter asked if anyone had questions. No one raised their hand and she sat down.

“Okay, for our final presentation, we have Sasaki Haise on the play Antigone.”

Hide lifted his head at the name. Everyday when the professor called roll, he would make a point to glance over at the boy; he was enamored with his fluffy white and black hair and kind smile. Even though he thought the class was too easy, he looked forward to it for a chance to talk to Haise. Hide meant to talk to him the first week of classes, but he would disappear out the door before he finished packing up. There was another time when Haise lingered behind to talk to the professor, but Hide lost his nerve at the opportunity. The months without a friend had worn on his self-esteem.

Haise brushed passed him as he made his way down the isle of desks and Hide’s body stiffened at the brief contact. He found him oddly familiar, and, well, cute. As he began his presentation, Hide did his best to not stare at him. Instead, he would sneak a glance, nod to show he was listening, and mindlessly scribble in his notebook to fake taking notes.

By the time the clock above Haise read 3:15, most of the other students were already packing up. He didn’t seem close to finishing his presentation and Hide felt sorry for him that the other students were so eager to leave at the end of class. The professor said he could end the presentation there, and that he did more than a sufficient job, but Haise seemed disappointed that he ran out of time. As he walked back to his desk, Hide slowly slid his notebook into his bag. This was another opportunity and he was determined to seize it.

Almost all the students had left when Hide nervously walked up to Haise, who was frowning down at his desk as he put his things away.

“Hey, Haise?” Hide twirled his thumb nervously around the strap of his bag.

“Y-yes?” he looked up at him with the kindest eyes Hide had ever seen. His heart started to beat faster.

“I thought your presentation was really cool,” he kicked himself for saying something so lame, but at least he was finally talking to him.

“O-oh, thanks. I wish I got to my analysis on Eurydice’s knitting symbolizing life, but that’s okay,” Haise slung his bag over his shoulders as he stared at his shoes, “Anyways, thanks again.”

Hide desperately didn’t want the conversation to end; that was the most he’d talked to another person in days. Plus, he was talking to Haise, who was without-a-doubt the cutest boy he’s ever seen in his entire life. He didn’t know what to say, he felt his throat closing up, and he started to panic as he watched Haise turn towards the door.

“Hey, wait!”

“Yes? What’s wrong?” Haise turned and tilted his head to the side, eyeing him sympathetically.

“Do you…would you like to get coffee or something? I mean, I’d like to hear more about your analysis, I’ve read Antigone probably a dozen times,” though it was a lie, Hide didn’t know what else to say to convince him and he found himself talking faster than usual. He prayed that didn’t put off Haise. Did he sound too desperate?

“Oh, um, I have another class,” Hide’s heart sank.

“I understa—”

“But I’m free after 5:30. Would that be okay?”

“Oh! Uh—yeah, that’d be great!” Hide’s excitement slipped out with his voice, but he played it off the best he could. The two decided to meet at the campus café at 6 o’ clock before parting ways.

When Hide got back to his dorm, he threw himself onto his bed. He couldn’t believe he talked to Haise, and what’s more is that they had a date! Or, well, maybe not a date date, but at least a chance to hang out casually. Honestly, Hide would have jumped at the opportunity to hang out with anyone, but this was the most excited he felt in a long time. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, and he was grateful his roommate Nishiki wasn’t there to see him.

The hours seem to drag by, but when there was only 30 minutes left until the two were supposed to meet, Hide suddenly felt panicked. What if he couldn’t think of anything to say? What should he wear? He frantically flipped through his closet, but should he change clothes at all? Would that be weird? He checked the time on his phone which read 5:45; barely enough time to get across campus to the café. He stuffed his keys and wallet into his pockets before sprinting out the dorm.

When Hide arrived at the café, he saw Haise already sitting at a table silently reading a book. He chastised himself for being late, but he told himself to let it go before approaching him.

“Hey, sorry I’m late! Have you been here long?” he offered a meek wave before pulling out the chair opposite of Haise and sitting down, who looked up from his book and smiled warmly at him.

“Oh, no, not at all,” he waved him off and took a sip of his coffee.

“Oh good,” the two fell into silence for a moment; they stared into their laps as they waited for the other to say something.

“Hey, I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself. I’m Nagachika Hideyoshi, but you can call me Hide,” though he was struggling with insecurities, Hide was determined to not let his fears get the best of him, “Are you majoring in Literature?”

“Yes, I am,” Haise took another sip of his coffee but didn’t say anything else after that, leaving the two in silence again.

“Um…so Antigone?” Hide felt uncomfortable with the silence, and he didn’t want to mess up this chance. He realized he failed to dedicate anytime researching the play prior to their date—er casual hangout—but he was confident he’d be able to hold up his end of the conversation.

“Um, yeah, would you like to know how my presentation was supposed to end?” Hide nodded, “Okay, so I what I was saying earlier in class about Eurydice…” Haise continued talking about knitting and life and class divides, to which Hide was only half paying attention to. He’d glance into his eyes and get distracted by how much light was behind them; it was obvious he truly had a passion for the subject. After a moment, he’d remind himself to not hold eye contact for too long to avoid being creepy, and he decided to look down at his mouth instead, which made his stomach feel warm and fuzzy. Thoughts of them kissing flashed across his mind, and he shook them away as his cheeks warmed. He decided to look down at the table.

“Anyways, sorry for rambling,” Haise shyly looked at him while rubbing the back of his neck, “What do you think?” Hide’s body stiffened and he began nervously rubbing his own neck. He kicked himself for not paying attention.

“Oh, well, I think, you know, the two sisters represent different human values…” Haise smiled warmly at him, encouraging him to continue, “And, uh, where an individual’s loyalty lies affects how they react.”

“Exactly!” Hide un-tensed his body and let out a sigh of relief. The conversation continued with general introductions; they shared where they were from, what they hoped to have as a career in the future, and what classes they were taking. Hide found himself relaxing more into the conversation, and his sense of familiarity with Haise grew the more they talked. It wasn’t long before they found themselves laughing and sharing stories. There was a natural lull in the conversation when Haise checked the time on his phone.

“Oh, it’s almost 8 o’clock. I should get going, I have some homework,” he looked at Hide sympathetically, as if to say sorry he had to leave.

“That’s okay,” Hide offered a smile while Haise grabbed his book, “Hey, um, so I had a lot of fun… do you want to hang out again sometime?” he held his breath.

“Y-yeah, what’s your number?” the two traded numbers before standing and pushing their chairs in. They stood there for a moment, awkwardly staring at their shoes because they didn’t know how to say goodbye. Hide looked up at him, feeling butterflies in his stomach as he thought about how cute he was. Something came over him, and he leaned in to give Haise a peck on the cheek. Haise’s body stiffened, and both of their faced glowed bright red.

“Um, uh, anyways, b-bye!” Hide ran out the door, across the street, and threw himself behind a tree. He leaned his back against it and slid down while covering his face with his hands. He couldn’t believe he just did that— it was so lame! He didn’t even know if Haise was gay! He felt ashamed, giddy, and stupid. What if Haise doesn’t want to hang out with him now? He sat there kicking himself for a few more moments before begrudgingly getting up and going back to his dorm.

When he returned, he threw himself onto his bed for the second time that day. Again, he silently thanked the gods for allowing him to have the room to himself. He smooshed his face into his pillow as a wave of shame crashed over him. I’ve got to fix this, Hide thought, and he tore his face out the pillow and dug out his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, his thumb hovered over Haise; you’ve got this, he thought, before writing his message:

Hide: Hey…sorry if I weirded you out earlier. I hope you don’t think any less of me.

He reread the message several times and concluded that it seemed…too dramatic.

Hide: Hey…sorry if I weirded you out earlier!

Okay, he decided that message seemed far less dramatic, and pressed send. He spent the next few minutes regretting sending it, reassuring himself, and pacing his dorm. Before long, he heard the familiar buzzing of his phone and leapt to grab it. The notification was a message from Haise. Oh god.

Haise: Hey Hide, you didn’t weird me out, I was just caught off guard! I’d still like to hang out again sometime, if you’d like to!

The relief was almost overwhelming for Hide; a smile spread wide across his face.

Hide: Oh, that’s a relief! I’d like that very much 😊

Haise: Okay, it’s a date!!

Hide almost choked on air, which resulted in a coughing fit and him dropping his phone. He scrambled to pick it up again and reread the message to make sure he read it right the first time. A date! He couldn’t believe this; his cheeks flushed, and he collapsed into his bed.

Hide: Sounds great!

#Tokyo ghoul #hidehaise #hidekane #hidekan #hide #au #fanfiction #commission #writing commission #commish

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Note

"Come on! Another round!" and "God, we stink"

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

Thanks for the prompt, nonnie! I took this in a weird direction, I hope that’s okay!

warnings: mention of a vehicular accident & pain

Tony didn’t like to think about the accident. It was hard to imagine what his life was like before he crushed his right leg. All of the things he took for granted were now things he missed so very dearly – like walking without trouble to the kitchen or driving the many cars that sat waiting for him in his extensive garage. Getting onto that motorcycle was one of the stupidest things he could have done – but then again, it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal if he wasn’t an actual idiot.

Every time he thought about it, Tony got a little green around the gills. He’d been drinking whiskey neats all night, even he understood that consuming too much alcohol and trying to operate any machinery wasn’t a good idea. He’d almost cut his hand off too many times to be perfectly aware of that. Despite that, he got onto the bike, anyway. There’d been a man in the cluster of people at the party that he wanted to impress. It didn’t matter that being a dumbass wasn’t sexy, his brain was addled, and he was running on instinct.

In the end, it was probably lucky that he was alive. The tech he built into his watch picked up on his body’s distress and got an ambulance to his location as quickly as the public medical transportation possibly could. There’d been a lot of black time for Tony, so he didn’t remember much of anything other than waking up in pain every now and again. While taking a dive into the concrete, he landed heavily on his right leg and did some pretty terrible damage to it. Torn ligaments, fractured bones, and nerve damage waited for him when he finally came to.

Three surgeries and a lot of pain medication later, Tony was finally able to get back into the bedroom in his own home. It didn’t take long for Pepper to demand he let her hire an in-home professional, the doctor’s orders of getting up and moving still fresh in both of their minds. Although they weren’t a couple any longer, she still took care of him when she could. The need to mother him would never go away – Pepper spent too much time doing day to day things for him to simply drop that because they weren’t romantically inclined.

The very next day, Tony was woken by a soft voice – his eyes blinking a couple of times before he saw the figure in the door. “Sorry to wake you, Mr. Stark. Your door just opened automatically when I walked up to it. Which was wicked, by the way.” Tony sat up a little, the last comment almost getting a smile to pull at his cheeks.

“Yeah, that’s Jarvis. Say hi, buddy.” Tony said, his voice still pretty scraggly from the depth of sleep he’d been in.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark – Mr. Parker.” Jarvis responded promptly, the voice never ceasing to bring a warmth to Tony’s gut. He missed the human Jarvis very much – the imitation of him was almost good enough.

“Mr. Parker, huh. Do you have a first name?” Tony finally let himself smile, his eyes taking in the little smirk on the brunette’s face. Now that he was awake more, Tony could see brown eyes, red cheeks, and plump lips. The man couldn’t be any older than 25, his youth still sitting like a beacon in his features and stature.

Watching the boy smile was enough to make him want to actually get out of bed – the thought making him cringe a little. It felt nice to be motivated, but he knew the second that he started to move, all of the pain would come flooding back. “I’m Peter, sir. Everyone usually just calls me Pete, though.” He let a hand run down the doorframe a little, the man obviously used to the constant pace of moving around all day.

“Okay, Pete. What kind of torture do you have in store for me? And can I get some water on my face before this fun begins?” Tony asked the questions with as much sass and sarcasm as he could pack into them – the tone enough to pull another smile out of Peter.

And so, it began. At first, it was hard just to get out of bed and into the bathroom. Every morning, Peter would wake him up, sometimes earlier than he was used to, and help him up and off the mattress. He wasn’t supposed to put too much weight on the leg – but even the littlest of movements was complicated with a limb that didn’t understand what movement was in its injured state.

Slowly, Tony started to gain a little bit of strength back. Once the bog of the pain medication slipped away, he was better able to get his feet under him. His brain was one of his biggest assets and he used it to his advantage. He’d always been an overachiever and he didn’t let the fact that his leg was physically unable to do some of the things he was demanding from it stop him from trying.

All the while, Peter stood by him and helped him through all of the shitty days that made him want to slam the crutches down and give up completely. One such day, Tony fell to the floor in defeat – his leg throbbing and his mind totally fed up with the pep talks and chanted words. That day, he couldn’t do it – he didn’t want to push past the pain.

Peter crouched down before him, Tony rolling his eyes with jealousy at the younger man’s movements and the ease in which he could perform them. “That it? Giving up, Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned bluntly; his eyes boring into Tony’s.

Blinking, Tony wanted to use his nonexistent strength to kick the kid in the face – the smugness of his words probably funny any other time, but not today. “Fuck you, Pete. My leg hurts,” Tony mumbled, the words lacking the heat he wanted them to have. He clenched his right hand, the tremor in it only coming around when he let himself lose control. Fuck it all, he thought.

The other man wasn’t deterred – Tony’s words bounced off of him like he didn’t even hear them. Offering up a hand, Peter helped him to his feet. “Come on. Another round. I’ll help you.” Peter’s voice was gentle this time, the joking atmosphere gone with the snap of Tony’s words. “Take one of the crutches and hold onto my arm with the other hand – we’ll transfer some of the weight to me and still get the reps done.”

Tony grit his teeth and leaned heavily into Peter’s side – his body trying to rebel against him. Taking in a deep breath, Tony got himself under control and focused on the sound of Peter’s shoe hitting the floor and the transfer of his weight from the good leg over to the bad. They did another couple of lengths before Peter guided him into a chair – Tony reluctant to let go of Peter’s arm.

With all of the time they’d been spending together, Tony found himself drawn to the other man. When they weren’t doing laps of his hallway or working with some of the equipment Peter brought with him, they sat around and talked. Tony hadn’t been this idle in his entire life and it was nice to get some stimulation outside of the shitty thoughts in his head. He came to rely on the other’s presence, not just because of the way he was healing his body, either.

A bottle of water was thrust into his hand, Peter taking the seat across from him a couple of moments later. “Thanks, Pete. Sorry, y’know – about what I said. I didn’t mean that. You’re great – I’m just a grumpy old man.” Tony muttered his apology, the man covering it up a little by lifting the water bottle to his mouth, the cooling slug of water a nice way to douse the flame starting to climb within him.

“It’s okay. I don’t take any of the stuff you say when you’re in a pain cycle to heart. I get it. I’ve never experienced your level of pain, so I can only imagine what a punk like me pushing you more than you want to be pushed might feel like. You’re good, Tony,” Peter answered, his hand reaching across the space between them to squeeze Tony’s shoulder.

Something changed in Tony that day. He stopped trying to push himself and just went with what his body wanted from him. When he could, he went – and when he couldn’t, he didn’t. Peter was very good at his job and had lots of alternatives to replace the walking during the times when Tony knew he wasn’t going to be able to get up, let alone walk around.

Little by little, Tony finally started to feel better. All of his pins were out, all of his stitches were healed, and he was actually able to put his entire body weight on both of his legs. When Peter asked him to go for laps, he did them with the slightest limp, a smile on his face every time his steps got a little straighter.

One day about eight months after the accident, Peter tossed his shoes at him, a happy look on his face. “We’re taking it outside today. Put those on and grab your cane – I want you to have it just in case,” Peter spoke with such clarity, Tony could do nothing but comply. His stomach felt like it was in knots, he hadn’t been outside of his apartment in a long time – he couldn’t bear to be unable to do things on his own, so he locked himself away.

Standing out in the warm sunshine, Tony let all of his worries disappear – the air was crisp and Peter’s hair caught the sunlight in a way that made it shine like a halo on top of his head. His silly crush evolved the longer they were in each other’s presence – the vision in front of him felt just as exciting as the prospect of being outside and actually moving around. Peter offered up his arm for Tony to slip his own through and started a leisurely pace.

It took a lot more effort than he figured it would, but they made it a couple of blocks down the road and back. He felt like he might die from the effort – his brow completely soaked, the clothes on his back sticking to him from the wetness. On the other hand, it was nice, to be out and about – to be able to walk when not that long ago, the prospect of it wasn’t very likely.

They got back up to the apartment, Peter helping him a lot more than he did when they left the apartment. By the time they got back up to the penthouse, they were both sweating profusely – Peter could only do so much with the slackness of Tony’s body the last 200 meters of ground they needed to cover. “God! We stink!” he panted out when they crashed against the couch in a heap. The other man leaned into the cushion and closed his eyes, his face scrunching with a laugh.

“Yeah, well – you’re not light by any means. And it’s hot as hell outside. I didn’t know New York got this warm,” Peter replied, his hands running through the curls on his head, sweat brushing from the ends of his hair and down his neck, some of it flinging into the air. “I’m proud of you, though. I can’t believe you’ve come as far as you have.” He smiled then, the look on his face genuine.

Without much thought, Tony narrowed the gap between them. He left the slightest bit of room for Peter to close the final bit of distance, Tony unwilling to ruin their professional relationship if Peter wasn’t in the same head space. “Means a lot, Pete. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Tony tilted his face a bit, the brush of Peter’s breath against his face making him want to move in and take what he’d been wanting for a while now.

A soft hand cupped his cheek, Peter’s nose brushing against his own. Tony held his breath, the seconds between the touch of Peter’s hand and the softness of his lips on his own made his heart hammer against his chest – the anticipation of it making him feel like a kid again. He let out a muffled breath against Peter’s lips and pressed into the contact. The immediate feeling of rightness pulled him closer and before either knew it, they were sucking face on the couch – their sweat and body heat tangling together in the excitement.

Peter pulled back first – a groan leaving his lip. “You’ve been the most frustrating client I’ve ever had – and none of it has been because of your leg,” Peter admitted. Tony laughed at the comment, his lips pressing against Peter’s again briefly.

“Yeah, well – I’m a pain in the ass.” Tony shrugged his shoulders, a shit eating grin on his face.

Peter patted his cheek, the smack of it sounding around the room. “Oh, I know. I can’t wait to see what else you’re going to throw my way.”

#starker #ironspider #ask prompts #bobbie writes #do the thing #au prompts #all the aus #anonymous #nonnie

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theangrypokemaniac · 5 years

Text

Since I rant enough about the wizening Ma and Pa received in Sinnoh it's only right to wreak bloody rhetorical vengeance elsewhere:

However harsh it may be, I'm glad Takeshi Shudo isn't alive to witness the hateful desecration of his legacy.

...

In a universe where no one's allowed to age, why are the modern Jessie and James so withered and decrepit?

Dragon Ball has been on for more than three decades. Its stars were permitted to grow up, because the head can cope with the opportunities this offers.

Yet Goku, Krillin, Bulma et al bear a greater similarity to their younger selves than these gurning invertebrates do to Team Rocket, wearing a papery approximation of their skin.

Akira Toriyama is actually concerned about his life's work, still coming up with interesting concepts, brand-new characters, and most importantly, values his audience by keeping to the established canon.

If a Dragon Ball fan reads this, I am so jealous of you.

Consider yourselves fortunate not to have seen the thing you loved the most pulverised and the resulting glutinous mass moulded back into makeshift sloppy cadavers.

Look at the state of that man! That's a good picture these days!

Why have the eyelid lines turned into upside down bags?

And why has she collected her lashes for this particular screen shot?

On eyes with a strangely feline slant...

Has she had a face lift?

Get yer money back on that one, love.

And why has he marks under his eyes and round his flapping gob to add the hint of exhaustion?

And why don't her lips reach the edge of her mouth anymore?

And why must he display Beaver Toof, as if he's only got six pegs left?

Giving it to him but not her implies she's lost the lot, needing to gum objects for a result.

And why do her low-slung ears consist only of lobe?

And why can you see his featureless lugs? Why does his barnet stand outwards in tentacles like he's taken to wearing a floppy Starmie?

What's that's meant to be, purple dreadlocks?

And why is her hairline curved and absolutely straight, like a bad wig, apart from the perfunctory bits to the side, which I guarantee won't alter their position throughout the run?

Hair used to move about, now by law there's a set pattern which cannot change. Stamp that life out immediately.

And what's that flaccid growth between his weary peepers? Is that meant to be fringe?

PFFFT!!!

And why are her digits just as thick and oblong as his?

It ain't fingers. It's trotters.

And why's he got a back to his throat, but she hasn't?

And why are we forced to witness it? You can see all the way to his dangler!

The great gaping pink cave looks like the end of Looney Tunes when Porky Pig pops up and stammers: "That's all folks!"

Remember a lack of Beaver Toof? And triangular mouths?

Remember when Meowth was a cheeky, spirited little cat, not a middle-aged human midget, an emaciated wreck bored of it all?

Remember when it wasn't deemed necessary to expose us to internal organs?

And when James was a handsome, hysterically camp dandy, not a creepy, snot-ridden science dweeb?

And when Jessie was a beautiful, stylish young girl, hot-tempered but loyal, not a sullen, cold, reptilian, Botoxed-to-the-gills gorgon?

Remember when Team Rocket were fun? And attractive?

Remember when they had joy in their hearts in spite of their poverty? And vim? And hope?

Remember them acting with flair and imagination?

Remember when their schemes had variety?

Remember when they had more than a single disguise per era?

Remember when they had many occupations? And were good at them?

Remember when they'd have a go at everything and weren't reduced to flipping condemned meat in a grotty burger van FOR THREE YEARS?!

Remember when those in charge didn't despise them, when they got happy endings?

Remember split screens? And face faults? And background tones? And purple streaks down your cheeks?

Remember big, bright open eyes, not shrunken, sagging and empty holes afflicted by glaucoma?

Remember when Jessie had eyelashes?

Remember when Pokémon was an anime?

And when James had a fringe, not a bent swelling like a balloon animal?

And when the artist could be arsed to draw Meowth's Charm properly?

Remember when the voices weren't nails down a blackboard?

When Meowth didn't sound like a wedge of coal grinding beneath an oil-deprived door?

When Jessie's dulcet tones had a wider range that just screechy, and weren't reminiscent of a cacophonous banshee clawing her way from a bog, using her own mug as a shovel?

When James speaking didn't suggest he was at best, suffering sinus difficulties, and at worst, constantly battling to swallow his own sick from looking at her?

Mind you, I'm grateful the 4Kids cast are no longer here. They deserve better, and their presence would only validate the crude bastardisations.

Every time the guttural howls reach my poor ears a chill runs through my system, and reminds me of The Pokémon Company sacking the real dub crew in preference for a job done on the cheap.

Remember speed lines? And Pokéball-throwing animation?

Remember a new motto performance in each installment, not the same stock footage reused again and again?

Remember when it rhymed?

It shows.

Remember remembering it?

Remember when Team Rocket would walk down the street in their uniforms and no one took a blind bit of notice despite the organisation operating there?

And they didn't fanny about in one scabby polyester costume every minute they were travelling, even when NO ONE KNOWS WHO THEY ARE?

Since Unova, whilst confronting Ash and this era's soon-to-be-forgotten companions, you get this exchange:

Moron-Of-The-Week: "Who are Team Rocket?"

Ash: "They're bad guys who steal other people's Pokémon."

EVERY SINGLE BLOODY TIME!!!

WORD-FOR-WORD IDENTICAL!!!

The writers have such deep appreciation for their work they're sending in cut-and-paste scripts.

Remember blasting off when something blew up, not an explosion from nowhere, or giving it the slip with a jet pack, or abduction by a Care Bear?

Remember when the eyebrows matched the hair?

Remember when he wore it long?

Remember blue shock? And sweat drop? And hammerspace? And comedy violence?

Remember her jagged hairline? And it being RED!!!

Remember proper highlights to it, rather than the odd white lump now and again, as if sweating like a pig, or their heads are infested with giant space ticks?

Remember when they were in all the episodes? And were main characters? And on the introduction sequence?

Remember when Jessie and James used to hug? And hold hands?

And bicker as only a couple can, but you knew they'd never cope alone?

Remember when they'd fly into each other's arms under the flimsiest pretext?

Remember when they meant more to one another than just being a pair of unconnected and disembodied wraiths coincidentally walking down the same road?

And they had more than civil interactions?

Remember when she loved him as much as he loved her?

And no one else could ever take his place?

And canon wasn't infected with the ruinous depiction of her as a hard, heartless bitch barely tolerating him until someone 'better' came along, at which point she'd fuck off without a backwards glance?

'Better', as in a scabby, satchel-mouthed, gormless cretin, just to add surly insult to merciless injury.

Never has such a life-long and hardcore defender of the faith flipped into an ardent Rumishipper as I did after that episode, once I'd swept up the fragments of my soul.

Remember when they were sympathetic?

Remember when they showed human warmth?

Remember when they cared about each other?

Remember when they weren't just a jangling, distorted mess of half-recollected traits?

Remember when they weren't really evil?

Remember Rocketshipping? That was a thing once, believe it or not.

Remember when they had a conscience?

Remember when actually wicked characters turned up, and Team Rocket ALWAYS sided with Ash, rather than the nauseating spectacle of suddenly being best buds with the Boss?

Remember when they had contact with the Twerps?

Remember when Team Rocket and the Twerps loved each other in secret and would endanger themselves to save their 'enemies'?

Everything that was once good and winning about them was sucked out, degree by degree, to leave the corpse, hollow and dead, strung up on wires as a grim marionette.

I'm sure most who see this will vehemently disagree, that I'm completely wrong, that THEY like them.

Yes, you like this three, but you don't like Team Rocket. This is not them. You have yours, and I have mine, but let's not pretend they are the same.

Why, if there is no difference, would I be so hostile, when they meant so much too me?

Did you ever wonder where the original fans went, why they all departed en masse? It's not because they 'moved on' or 'matured'.

They didn't leave Pokémon. Pokémon left them.

As the makers rely so heavily on repetition (sorry, nostalgia) they arrogantly expect us to still be here, having blithely welcomed our memories minced and our canon ripped up or ripped off, apparently.

We're intended to put up with watching them lay waste to ťhe series's body, clinging on for when a rotting bone is pulled up now and again and waved at us, before they chuck it aside to continue the dismemberment.

It's been eaten from the inside out, explaining the facial collapse. Behold the beauty on show:

You see what I mean, don't you?

Don't you? No, because otherwise you'd say the same.

How anyone feels able to describe three deformed freaks as 'hot' or 'cute' I will never comprehend.

The uniform collar protrudes like a solid pipe, emphasising the pencil necks.

It gives the impression of wrinkled, leathery tortoises peering out of their shells to secure a tasty lettuce treat.

Is that pretty? No.

Is it so surprising I don't care for my favourites to resemble melted waxwork skeletons of their own dæmonic counterparts?

S&M is a most fitting name, for this is torture.

In the film Death Becomes Her, Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn vie for the attention of Bruce Willis, both taking a serum giving everlasting youth and slimness.

The catch is it confers immortality, but not invulnerability, so when pushed down the stairs Meryl survives but is dead, her neck broken, thus she's zipped up in the morgue fridge.

When Goldie is shot with a canon she too rises, internal organs blown out.

The rest of the adventure involves the pair losing the war against time, patching up and painting over peeling grey skin, holding onto loose limbs as their bodies fall apart.

This obviously is the case here. The trio lapped the potion up at the close of Sinnoh, experienced a fatal accident and are now steadily crumbling to mush before us.

According to grave-diggers the head always goes first, so there you are then.

I have a suspicion that Giovanni lured all three to his crypt, experimenting on them to engineer his ultimate super soldier, which explains their flat, plastic appearance. Those since Unova began are the cyborgs, the real ones locked in his cellar.

You may notice I have about the lowest opinion possible of the current writing team, as they deserve.

Why should I have any respect for vindictive halfwits like this, who hate Team Rocket so much they're going out of their way to distort and uglify them, expressing the resentment in celluloid?

Jessie, James and Meowth lost their only defender in Takeshi Shudo. From that point they descended from loveable, hapless tragic figures to self-parodies (Hoenn) whiney, irritating divs dumping one another at every interval (Sinnoh), robotic, amoral scum (Unova and Kalos) and now physically repulsive minor additions (Alola and Galar). Is that trajectory all accidental?

It not that it's a new 'style' (for want of a better word), as were that the case, this hideousness would apply to the entire cast, but it's only done to Team Rocket. How could that be unless motivated by malice?

Given the sub thesps are obliged to prostrate themselves in the dust, begging fans to make their appreciation known, it smacks of desperation.

They wouldn't need to ask that were the trio treated as an integral component. They must sense the objections and are thus drumming up support to avoid the dole queue.

Are those in charge so resentful of their presence it manifests in mutilating them, keen to do anything that may alienate the fanbase, so at the first sign of a dip in popularity they can leap upon it as the perfect excuse to write Team Rocket out?

Why be surprised? These are imbeciles who reject their own canon at the close of every generation, so why care about someone else's?

If people have to harangue the writers with grovelling praise of their retcons, rehashes and all-round twatting about, butter 'em up sufficiently, with the implied threat of deserting the franchise should Team Rocket be ejected, taking their purses too, all so the smug, avaricious berks deign to put the trio in the next generation, that proves they don't want them, so how can what they write for their characters be objectively of any worth?

Team Rocket would've departed by now, were there not a palpable worry their absence might ring the death knell of the whole thing, turning off the financial tap, which is what matters.

Therefore they are retained, grudgingly, and only so long as the clamour continues at its current decibel level. If that drops it's over, and don't expect a romantic resolution. Why should pleasing you be a concern when you're to leave with them?

Ask yourself: how much of your devotion is based on what they are right now, and how much is from who they used to be?

How long can they live off past glories?

The offences done in Unova and Kalos were bad enough, but remarkably Game Freak found further depths to plumb, therefore it can only get worse.

I have of course retained the loveliest for last:

Be still, my beating heart.

No, really, be still. Stop infact.

Planet of the Apes.

#Team Rocket #Jessie #James #Meowth #Alola #GIFS

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leviosarpg · 5 years

Text

Congratulations, GRACIE! You have been accepted for the role of VENUS ROWLE! Gracie, this app was p h e n o m e n a l. Venus is a character that’s rather hard to capture, simply because I think it’s so easy to veer away from her dark side, but you charged straight ahead and managed to illuminate the cruel ugliness of Venus so perfectly, my stomach is still churning from the sample app (in the best possible way). “The world won’t be kind to girls like me, why shouldn’t I treat it the same?” Gracie, this line was utter perfection and somehow manages to sum up Venus’s character flawlessly, explain her motivations, and provide such a wonderful insight into her mind. Venus is a taker, but more importantly, she’s someone with the ability to take what she wants, something this app highlighted effortlessly. I can’t wait to have Leviosa’s diamond on the dash!

Your faceclaim change to: Eliza Scanlen has been accepted. Don’t forget to send in your account to the main and complete the items listed on the CHECKLIST!

THE PLAYER

name/age/pronouns/timezone: Gracie/24/she her/ est

THE CHARACTER

desired role: Venus Rowle- I love the poisonous princess, the girl who is not in danger; but is the danger. Sickly sweet honey words laced with venom, smiled sharp enough to cut. The little girl who got everything she could possibly want, but took more. She’s coming for the crown, she’s coming for things she doesn’t even want - just because she doesn’t want someone else to have it.

gender/pronouns: cisfemale, she/her

extracurriculars: the harbingers, the slug club

para sample: (tw dubious con - kinda, tw self harm, tw underage? ) not exactly sure how to tag it but better safe than sorry!

He was seventeen, she was fifteen. All golden curls and a high babied voice, Venus Rowle never learned the word no. He was some minor pureblood heir, a Crabbe or some other. But he was beautiful, and she loved the way it felt to have his eyes follow her through the halls. Her friends noticed, and asked her in somewhat awed whispers in the back of charms.

“I am sure I don’t know what you mean.” Her eyes flashed more blue than green, and her smile was triumphant, barely concealed behind a modesty they all knew she didn’t have.

At her father’s Yuletide Party, Venus ignored him outright, dancing with nearly everyone else but him. His eyes never left her twirling golden figure, and she felt the jealousy burning in his gaze, reveling in this as if he were worshipping at her feet like the goddess of her namesake. Venus always knew how to play the game, had felt the heated gaze of men ever since she was 12 and she’d left her sister and childish shape for the curves of a woman. They liked the chase she learned. She learned to laugh and toss her head back joyously, how to place a delicate hand on her cheek, to absentmindedly play with a curl and draw their eyes to her neck like. She could fake demure and purity and goodness and all those other things men think they want.

And so, when she sensed the Crabbe heir was about to admit defeat, she caught his eye, smiled softly, and quickly looked away with a slight flush rising to her cheeks. He followed her into the library like she knew he would, a lovesick puppy leaning in to tuck a stray lock behind her ear. She resisted at first, the way they always wanted young girls to, but gave in to his kisses eventually. Men liked to think they were in charge, that they were the hunter and Venus was the doe eyed prey, quivering in his crosshairs. Men were easy.

After she let him worship the porcelain curves of her body, he buttoned up the back of her velvet dress, kissing her neck and whispering that one word they all wanted to hear. Love. She smiled with venom, and sent him back to the party first while she adjusted her hair in the mirror. Venus felt empty, unsatisfied. The next three nights of the holiday celebration, she ignored him outright. She was so easily bored, and he’d proved to be nothing more interesting than a pretty face and practiced lips.

He told her he’d ask his father for her hand, and she laughed.

On New Years Eve, he no longer followed her with those desperate puppy dog eyes. She saw him across the ballroom, whispering now in the ear of some much plainer girl, Venus thought unkindly. Her eyes flashed red. She didn’t want him, the idea of marriage was laughable to someone so young and burning. But she certainly didn’t want to be so easily replaced. Venus Rowle was the end all be all, not someone you got over in a matter of weeks.

On New Years Day she walked sobbing into her father study, peeling up a long sleeve to show a ring of purple bruises around one delicate wrist. A sleepless night spent in dedication to her plot added to her overall look of fear and shame. She said no, Venus told her parents in between tears, and he’d been so angry she would not go off with him alone and she’d told him and told him it was inappropriate but he gripped her wrist tighter and tighter almost pulling her away from the party so that she had to wrench herself from his grasp to remain pure. She’d found the bruises that morning, she sniffed for effect, and had been so ashamed and not wanted to bring harm to the family name but so afraid. Her mother stroked her hair to quiet the sobs, and, after delicately confirming her virtue was still intact, her father grabbed his cloak and stormed out the front door.

The Crabbe boy was quickly and quietly sent to America, his father bowing to the weight and power of the Rowle name. No one outside of her family ever knew, and he suffered with the unearned reputation of a brute. He wrote to her once, and she set it on fire without even reading it.

Venus might have been named for the goddess of love, but the Latin root should never be forgotten. Venenum, or rather, poison.

OTHERS & EXTRA (OPTIONAL)

May I pretty please change her face to Eliza Scanlen? Thank you!

Venus sometimes resents her sister, particularly on their birthday, a time she feels should be only dedicated to her. She was thrilled when they were sorted into different houses - the sorting ceremony the only time Diana has ever come first, D before V alphabetically.

Diana is too soft, this world will eat her alive, Venus fears. She cannot hide behind books forever, and Venus justifies her cruelty through love. Someone has to toughen up the younger Rowle, why not her own twin, someone who wouldn’t truly hurt her.

Venus has never been as clever as her sister, her marks always lower but really she had never cared that much. Did it matter what one knew of goblin rebellions or how many runes one could translate?

Her magic is surprisingly powerful, though her knowledge is limited. It comes from the violence in her blood, the fire burning in the hollow place in her chest that should hold a heart.

She is utterly cruel, a true Mean Girl, but with the charm and grace of her breeding and blood status. Words like poison laced barbs wrapped in velvet. She can tell you to go fuck yourself in a way that will make you truly want to.

She has almost no real friends, having begun to lose the girls of her childhood to competition or some sort of morality. She sometimes fears that if she truly needed someone, no one would answer the call. In these moments she reaches out to her sister, bothering her in the library and laying her golden head on Diana’s shoulder until she promises to always love Venus.

She isn’t sure when she first noticed Silvanus, likely when she caught the lovesick glint in her sister’s eyes. Venus has never been one to share and has always wanted what others have. He was beautiful and seemed almost kind. He’d be quite fun to ruin, she thinks.

Diary entries - I am obviously willing and happy to change all of the below especially with regards to other characters! Just some early thoughts

January 23

I was in the library last night copying Diana’s History of Magic essay - bored out of my mind. I have no desire to read or write anymore about goblin rebellions or giant wars or any other horrible creature who has been a threat to wizard kind. Sometimes I think we all might be better off if they were simply gone. But that is not a thing one says out loud, and so I will whisper it to you my dearest pages.

Anyway, I was bemoaning to myself the waste of time it is to read about things others have done instead of doing them myself when Riddle & Lestrange came over to sit at my table. Always a pleasant interruption, although I confess any sort of interruption was highly welcome, I had seen the two of them glancing over from across the room. I know how to attract attention, it is as natural as breathing. They came sooner than I’d thought - I am getting quite good.

They are beautiful boys, both tall and dark and brooding. Exactly the type of boy who my mother would say was up to no good. But Lestrange has the name and family wealth, and Riddle - well no one really knows all that much about him but he is brilliant, perhaps the most talented I have ever seen. And his charisma could charm even my overprotective and suspicious parents.

But, my dear friend, they were not interested in any sort of fun distractions. No - they had a proposal (no not that kind either - as if). Grindelwald, they say, wouldn’t dare come to England. They say he’s afraid of Dumbledore. But his ideas need a place to cultivate and take root here, so why not Hogwarts? I raised one eyebrow, perfectly poised on the line between disinterested and inviting. And so they said more. Riddle had ideas, plans to expand and go further. We were the next generation of leaders, were we not? Those not bogged down in the mess made from Grindelwald and the muggles and the destruction of everything good in the world. We should lead wizarding kind into the new world.

And, I’ll confess, I was terribly interested. The path my parents have painted for Diana & I seems dreadfully boring - marry some man and lose myself and my name to him, lose my body and my beauty to his children, become so consumed with the lives of messy tiny humans and give and give until who I am - Venus Manon Rowle - no longer exists. I will not be some empty shell belonging entirely to others. They spoke of power and change, and I held on to my air of aloofness as long as I could. But it was too perfect, and I gave over to the glamour of his vision quickly. They need my name and my charm, and (it was quite amusing to watch Lestrange struggle to find a tactful way to say so) my bite. I know I can be quite cruel, Diana has been more than happy to point it out to me. But being kind is boring, soft is weakness. The world won’t be kind to girls like me, why shouldn’t I treat it the same?

We stayed for another hour until the library matron threatened to call the caretaker or tell Slug we were out of bed after hours. But the plans and dreams continued in the common room late into the night. Lestrange is driven and controlling, Riddle has a charm and vision - they both match me in the ability to easily draw people in. Although, I might be a bit ahead of them in that case, having the name Riddle does not and being a fair bit more attractive than Lestrange. Most importantly - it is not just talk. You know how talk without action drives me mad. No, there are plans, and some have even already been enacted. Now I couldn’t possibly tell you the details even if I wanted to, having been sworn to secrecy, but Riddle himself has directly acted.

It was such a glorious night that I even woke up burning despite how little sleep I had gotten. I will tell you more later, I have to finish that stupid essay.

Love - V

PS. How terrible would it be for me to just accidentally forget to give Diana’s hers back and turn it in with my name instead? Binns would hardly notice. And Dee always forgives me.

June 22

Remember when I told you a few months ago that Freya was acting strangely? It has only gotten worse. I am practically seething with rage. Last night was daddy’s summer solstice gala, and Freya didn’t even say hello to me when she arrived. I was willing to look it over because she was with her family. But even later when she came around to speak with Giselle and I, something was off. I know how to read people, and I grew up with this girl - I know her every tick and every expression almost as much as I know my own sister’s. She is hiding something and I must find out what it is.

I tried to ask Giselle if she noticed anything wrong, but she seemed preoccupied as well. Am I the only one who knows how to have any fun? Giselle I am less worried about. She has always tried to compete with me, and it is healthy and natural for competition to develop between girls like us. She makes me sharper and I force her to rise up to my level. It is good for both of us I think, as long as I am always on top. Besides, I know her secrets and she knows enough of mine. I do love her dearly, but I would not hesitate to destroy her if necessary.

Mother says they are all jealous of me, but it has to be more than that - especially with Freya. I feared secretly from the moment she was sorted away from us all those years ago that we might lose her. I have made an effort, I constantly seek to include her in everything. And yet still, she is pulling away. Perhaps I will have to come up with some creative way to get her to confess what she is hiding.

And now, dear diary, please allow me a moment of weakness, a moment of insecurity. What if I lose them? And what if I never really had them to begin with? Sometimes I fear that they don’t actually love me, they might love the opportunities I can give them with my name. Or maybe they are afraid of me and play nice so they don’t end up on my bad side. Am I unlovable? Oh no Venus, you say, everyone loves you - look how many admires you have, how you can catch the attention of everyone in a room. No - they love who they think I am, the pretty mask I put on to hide the fact that I am all sharp edges and hot rage. But still, I would rather be loved and noticed for something, rather than hiding in the corners. Alright - I am done acting weak now.

Speaking of corners, I suppose I will always have my dear sweet Diana. My second, my shadow, my sister, my twin. She resists the type of criticism and growth I try and teach her, but she must take some of it in stride. I don’t much like sharing the spotlight, so I am happy that she is so reserved. Still, it would be good for Di to have some actual fun for one. To leave the library and step out from behind her books. I love her, dearly, and I only want the best for her. I confess, I may not be the best at showing her exactly how much she means to me. We are cruel to each other in the way only sisters can be, but I do believe she would die for me. And I know I would kill for her.

I will stop filling you with my melancholia now - V

#hp rp #hp rpg #lsrpg #literate rp #literate rpg #accepted #venus

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bdo-pilarrp · 6 years

Text

The Arrival, Pt.1

Snow had come with the chill of winter, the land once a lush green forest now blanketed with a pristine blanket of pure, glimmering white. Crystalline snowflakes drifted lazily down from the heavens shrouded in thick clouds which dimmed the warm glow of the sun, the land still and peaceful, almost picturesque in its dream-like state. The only disturbance was the soft crunch of snow under light feet as a figure clad in a charcoal grey cloak trudged forward down the path that lay hidden beneath the snow, the hood pulled up to keep the falling flakes from their visage.

Wispy puffs of steam drifted upon the cold air from the figure's breaths, the dark fur lining the hood frosted from snowfall concealing the figure's features from view, the only other detail a large sword of elegant elvish design strapped to their back. The lone figure seemed to be on a mission, their destination a mystery to any onlooker but the strides made were surly with purpose as they made their way through the still surroundings, seeming frozen in time with the fall of the season's first heavy flurry.

Another figure, a lone elven male stood in the same path rummaging through one of his smaller bags taking out a few pieces of meat. The tall figure kneeled down draped in his white wolf- fur cloak. "Come here you two.", he called to his two wolves who eagerly rushed over for their snack. He gave each a playful rub before looking up at his surroundings. His ice blue eyes noticing his partner approaching on the path in the distance. "Are you ready to get out of this place?", he questioned as the figure got closer. "We have a lead in Calpheon."

Hands clad in silver gauntlets that gleamed in the radiance of the pristine white that surrounded them rose to draw back the hood, seafoam green eyes meeting frosty blue, cascading layers of hair, dark at the roots fading to silvery white at the tips, free to settle about her shoulders. She cocked a small grin at her companion, watching the wolves as they eagerly set to their treats. "More than ready. My legs need a good stretch and it's gotten rather boring around here as of late."

"Good to hear. Let's get moving then. Hopefully, we'll be able to escape some of this cold while we're at it.", the elf said with confidence; pushing some of his blonde locks aside as they blew in his face from the frosty winds. He stood up readjusting his large bow strapped across his body. Before grabbing his nearby bag and turning to continue down the path with his new companion. "We'll be traveling to the land of humans some Im sure you'll get more than your share of fun. They can't keep peace for two seconds.", he commented as they moved on.

Pilar chuckled, a gleam in her green eyes hinting that she was perhaps more than hoping for such a prospect. She adjusted her pack beneath her cloak, more than ready to set off on their way, a determined grin on her lips. "Oh, I'm certain of it. Humans are petty things, always squabbling and complaining. They do make a tasty Shepard's Pie, though." she mused. A gust of brisk air whipped past them and Pilar drew her hood up once again, the fur lining kissed with small flakes of freshly fallen snow. "It will be nice to be out on the open road again. I've missed this. My sword has been idle for too long." She joined Alboin and offered the pair of wolves a fond scritch behind the ears.

Alboin laughs a bit, "Why is it that I can sense you ready to make trouble? Well, I'm sure we'll encounter some bandits along the way.", he asked as he takes a look at his map and compass. "A lovely elven female out on the open roads is like nineshark bait to them.", he stated in amusement. "Alright, we head north from here. ", he mentioned putting the items away, his two wolves quickly following along as they see him move on.

Pilar easily keeps pace alongside her companion, her grin innocent. Ish. "I have no idea what you mean." she lied playfully. "But any chance I get to put some filth into their rightful place sounds like a good time to me." She huffed lightly, a puff of steam from her breath on the cold air escaping as she did so, "Humans. Always picking on those who they are incapable of understanding." The gentle rain of snowflakes soon ceased, the snowfall easing away for the time being as they trudged onwards, their light-footedness keeping them from sinking into the packed snow that coated the land. All was quiet, not even bird song greeted their ears, not a soul of a creature stirred the underbrush. It was almost like walking through a dream state but the two elves knew better. The land was simply at rest, soaking in the calm of the moment.

"That lack of understanding anything is what keeps their race from achieving more and being a pain in the butt for the rest of us." "Though in this case, I don't think it's a lack of understanding as much as it's a bunch of humans looking to defile our kind. Having laid with one of us is like an accomplishment or experience of some kind. Can't say I feel that way about the roles being reversed.",Alboin sighed. "No matter. Once all this business with the Kamasylvia tree and our traveling princess is solved we can all go back to our seperate domains.", the male elf dreamed. "The border to Trent shouldn't be too far from here. Then we'll figure out how to further proceed to Calpheon."

Pilar hummed in amusement, nodding as she crinkled her faintly freckled nose. "I honestly do not see the appeal of bedding a human. They smell, they are filthy, they are ignorant, and they have no stamina what so ever." she cringed slightly, "The thought of one sweating all over me while being rut upon is rather foul indeed." She offered a small shrug, " I do not see what the Princess finds so fetching about them. You would think someone of her impeccable breeding would prefer more intellectual and pleasant company."

"It's not them; just him.... She was most likely tricked by that beast of a man. Or some other underhanded methods no doubt; possibly tainted human booze!", he contemplated aloud to her as they walked. "300 years and not one of the more noble elves could have her virginity, and this human comes along and steals her most sacred treasure. I'll have none of this insult from a human any further.",Alboin breathed in an icy cold breathe calming himself. "We will find her and once she sees me she'll happily return home with us; her sister as well.

Pilar kept her bemused laugh well to herself, letting slip a hum of agreement instead. She knew how easily her companion could get so riled up at such a topic and although it was almost always entertaining, she felt it was best if he saved it for later. "The Princess will come along one way or another, Alboin, do not concern yourself about that. Her home beckons and she has responsibilities to see to as is her given right by birth. She has been away from home for too long."

"Yes and hopefully by then will have come to her senses and she will be over this getting along with the other races nonsense." Alboin huffed. "We have our own issues to deal with." , he commented as the pair crunched their way through the snow covered lands. The wolves eagerly keeping pace beside him; their snow white coats blinding them into the surroundings. "What do you plan to do once we head back home? It doesn't seem you'd be too pleased to be stuck there again.", the elven male asked Pilar.

Green eyes cast skyward in thought. She honestly hadn't thought that far ahead. "You know... I haven't even considered that yet," she replied honestly. "We both know my mother is insistent on me marrying- which isn't going to happen. I'm in my prime! Why should I get bogged down with marriage? And children would be a certain death sentence to my freedom." she frowned, brows knitting together in a pointed scowl. "All because I'm her only daughter and she wants grandchildren. Disgusting little noisemakers. If she wants more little ones running around why not pay a Piku or something to do it. Well... I mean I tried it already but for some reason, she was less than amused at the idea of me paying the creature to follow her around and annoy her. A child would do the same thing!" She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated. "I will never understand that woman's demands for the life of me. As a Royal Guard herself, you would think she would be happy I followed in her footsteps! Just because I wasn't born a son she changed her mind. Her problem, not mine by the way." she huffed, glowering at the snow that coated the path they walked.

"This isn't meant as an insult, but I can't quite picture you being a housewife. ", he commented to her. "Some people are just made for certain things. Some belong on a battlefield, some in books and scrolls, some in gardens and others at home.", Alboin further remarked. "Perhaps she wants to make up for you being the only child by having another child through you.", the elf commented with a shrug. "Meh, it's hard to tell what some people think sometimes.". Alboin's ice blue eyes scanned the distance. "I can see the border gates up head from here."

Pilar huffed once again, sending another puff of steam drifting through parted lips. A wind had picked up and the snow was beginning to grow harder on the land, packed from layers of snowfall freezing over and the path now churned up with slush and mud from the passing of horse drawn wagons as the gates came into view. "Being a housewife would be the death of me." she grumped. As they moved closer along the path, avoiding the muck and icy patches, Pilar's seafoam gaze roved their surroundings, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious or potentially threatening. The closer they drew, the more they could hear the folk of Trent going about their business, even in the frigid weather, the sound of saws and hammers at work as loggers brought in their loads from the surrounding woodland.

"We should probably get some horses . It's quite the distance from Trent to Calpheon when considering the snow.",Alboin suggested. "Not to mention that human is possibly partaking of our princess as we speak. We can't waste too much time getting there.", he added as they walked through the gates of the small labor town.

Pilar nodded as they passed through the gates, making a bee-line for the stables, her gauntlet clad hand resting casually upon the hilt of the sword she had at her hip, her stride confident and imposing as she marched up to the Stable Master first. She halted just in front of the Demi Beast, teal eyes piercing as she bluntly addressed him, "We require two of the finest horses you have for sale." She placed a hand upon her hip, adding, "I have coin."

Alboin soon followed, "My friend here may have been a bit forward with you, but she is correct.", Alboin gave a charming smile and whispered to Pilar. "Sometimes you have to use finesse with these locals or they'll make things harder for you.", he then turned back to the Stable Master with his smile. " We need them as soon as possible. We have important business in Calpheon and can't afford to waste a moment. You will be paid well for them and us elves will remember your aid in our task.". he then showed the demi beast a nice pouch of silver.

Pilar humphed, crossing her armored arms as she stared levelly at the Stable Master, long elven ears perked up expectantly, the left one flicking out of annoyance. She could never understand her charge's need for charm and diplomacy in regards to those of unimportance but she humored him all the same, even if she did feel it was a waste of time. She was always more action than words. Her seafoam gaze shifted to the row of stalls, regarding the mounts available and took a keen interest in a jet black stallion that pawed angrily at the ground, snorting. He was a magnificent creature, spirited and full of fire. A kindred spirit.

"Hmmm...", Alboin noticed his companions gaze. "You know what my friend here will take that black one there. There's no need to look further in her case.", the elven male called out to the stable master while pointing at the aggressive black horse. " I on the other require something with a bit of flair; something that demands the attention of a nobleman such as myself.", his eyes scanned the horses in the stalls and those grazing in the pin. That's where he saw her; the most elegant horse he's laid eyes upon with it's long flowing white mane and long silky tail. "Yes, that one. A creature that spectacular deserves to be with someone as equally magnificent as myself.", Alboin smiled as he pictured himself riding upon the horse in the most heroic pose one could imagine.

Pilar rolled her eyes at the rather sissy choice in steed her companion picked but realized it was to be expected. Keeping all that sparkling white, mane and tail clean was going to be a chore for sure. She tossed Alboin a playful smirk, lofting a brow, "Quite the pretty pony, my Lord. Good luck keeping her spotless in the muck." she snickered. She moved to the stall that held captive her new steed, the large stallion tossing his head as she neared, flaring his nostrils. His coat was like polished onyx, mane cropped short like a mohawk to keep it out of the way, tail equally docked, his form muscular and his legs strong. He was a war horse, she knew it instantly. He would serve her well. "Keelios." she nodded as the name came to her and found it suited him fine. She spoke to him in elvish under her breath and found her voice soothed the beast for the moment. "I'll take him." she agreed at length.

"My tall elegant beast will be just fine. Besides, that's what the stable keeps are for.", he smirked in thought. "The horse's job and mine are to look good riding into battle and put down the enemy in style while we do it.", he stated with a hint for arrogance when it came to his skills. "Just worry more about keeping your monster under control. I think it might kidnap you given the chance.", Alboin mentions as he looks at the horse with suspicion.

Pilar merely grinned, daring to open the stall door to take Keelios by the bridle and guide him out. He resisted at first but his eagerness to be out of the cramped confines of the stall, far too small for a horse of his size, soon overcame his initial distrust and he stepped out onto the road with Pilar leading him, heavy hooves leaving deep impressions in the frosted over mud of the street. "He's magnificent." she breathed in awe, studying him in the sunlight. Keelios seemed overly anxious to stretch his legs, shifting from side to side impatiently as a Shai approached, lugging a saddle far bigger than he for her new mount. At the sight of it, the horse tossed his head, pawing the mud once again to caution the little creature from coming closer, which worked as he halted, unsure. Pilar held firm her grip on the stallion's bridal, not letting him have an inch. She was equally stubborn with just as much fire in her spirit. They were well matched. "Leave the saddle, small one. I'll handle it."

Opposite of Pilar was Alboin all too eager to get his new steed saddled, "Yes get that saddle on my horse! ", he commented as they allowed it out of the pin area. It was well behaved trotting its way out and not going much further as it stopped; next to the stable handlers clearly used to this routine. Alboin watched the horses stride. "Hmm, she seems to possibly be of one of the speedier breeds.", he commented, half in thought. "The stable master nodded to Alboin in that his assumption was correct. "You have a good eye." the demi beast responded to Alboin. A chilly winter breeze then came through blowing the horses long mane. Alboin looked on in awe, "Yes I shall name her Sylvia after our awe inspiring tree and goddess.", he declared and nodded in self-approval.

Meanwhile, the armored she-elf wrangled her enthusiastic, if not bull-headed, mount into submission and saddled him before swinging herself up into the leather seat with protests from the other stable hands and the caution that the stallion disliked riders. The moment her weight fell onto his back, Keelios instantly tried to throw her but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of dismounting her. With a grin, she let him work it all out of his system, his large hooves stirring up mud as he bucked and spun in a sudden, wild frenzy, trying to dislodge her. But this wasn't her first rodeo sort to speak and she knew just what to do to show him she was boss, not the other way around. She held fast, reins tight as she forced him forward into open space and away from possible casualties, seizing control as he tried to bolt, unsuccessfully, and when that failed, he attempted to roll on her. Experience was in her favor as she moved with him, gripping tight with her legs and flattening her body against his, coming up uninjured if a little dirty back in the saddle at a full sit once he was up, seemingly spent, at last, his new rider victorious, leaving onlookers slack jawed in awe and respect. She hmphed triumphantly and stroked Keelios' neck, muscles quivering with a low whinny. "Well fought, Keel. Never let the fire die in you."

Alboin was finally upon his mount. His two massive white wolves following close by their elven pack leader. Someone shorter than him could possibly use one as a mount. Their bushy snow covered tails wagged eagerly as they looked up at the elf on his new horse. Alboin took off his bow a moment to readjust its position to ensure that the edges wouldn't poke his horse by accident. He watched on as Pilar fought with her horse until it finally came to its conclusion. She was still the same wild girl that he always remembered. The elf tossed his wolves a snack making sure they had fuel for the run they would make soon once Pilar finally seemed to be settled with the stallion. "At least he didn't kidnap you!", the man called over to Pilar with a grin.

A chortle was her response, offering the black stallion another fond pat to the neck which was rewarded with a harsh snort and a hoof stomp. She turned her attention to the dumbstruck stablemaster and tossed him a coin purse for his troubles. "Lead the way." she beckoned for Alboin to lead on, the pair of them now fully set for the road ahead of them. Pilar slipped her pack onto Keelios' back like a saddle bag and let her cloak cover it, replacing her fur trimmed hood back up to shield her skin from the biting cold, her breath still visible on the air. The further into Calpheon territory they go the warmer it would get.

"We appreciate your timely assistance," Alboin spoke to the Stable Master handing him his own pouch of silver as well. Before setting his horse into motion toward the town gate that would lead them to Calpheon. The wolves followed close by one at each side of Alboin as the horse picked up pace. The snow was still a bit heavy outside the town gate since it wasn't cleared from the path as it was in the town. Regardless it was still faster than either of them would be moving on foot. "Finally, we can make some decent progress. Once we hit warmer territory we should be able to run at full speed."

Pilar nodded, nudging Keelios forward which wasn't without his stubborn hesitation. "Lets be off then, I'm tired of the cold." Together, they set off down the road leading from Trent, hooves churning up mud and slush from snow in their wake as they settled into a gallop along the road that took them through the woodlands of towering pines and firs. The smell of evergreens were on the air, as invigorating as the nip of the chilled air against their faces as they made for Calpheon. "So what's the plan, Alboin?" she called to her companion, curious as to what his chosen plan of action would be, if he even had one.

"I think a wise choice would be to find a place to stay once we get there. " Alboin shouted back to Pilar. "I do not plan on sleeping in the cold wilds tonight. We may know the town she's in but we have no idea where exactly, or if the person mistook her for another elf. I doubt she'd be wearing her royal clothing if she's staying undercover.", said the elf as he explained his reasoning around the choice. His cloak, hair and the horse's mane all flowing majestically in the wind as they rode. The two wolves easily keeping pacing thanks to wolves being great endurance runners capable of running miles before needing a rest.

A firm nod signaled her affirmation of his plan, "Agreed! We will need to approach the Princess cautiously less we spook her away. It would be wise indeed to gather more intel whilst we recoup and a bed would be a welcome reprieve after our long journey." Keelios easily kept pace with Sylvia, his powerful strides keeping him alongside the more lithe of the two steeds. Ivory and ebony streaked down the road leading north to Calpheon with a rhythmic thunder of hooves.

"Exactly, it's as you say. This is the closest info we've had on her location in a while.", Alboin said over the sound of hooves meeting forest ground. "If she flees we have to start all over again.", as they traveled he noticed the snow getting thinner; noting them passing into warmer territory. "And it seems we've finally gotten closer to some better weather as well!", Alboin remarked pleased at the prospect of not freezing endless day and night.

Pilar grinned, raising a hand to draw her hood back from her face, long wavy lengths of her ombre grey hair now bellowing out behind her along with her cloak, finally free from the confines of her hood. The crisp bitter cold had faded and the sun seemed brighter, warmer as the clouds became thinner. Although still chill from winter's embrace, it was not as cold in the region of Calpheon, the snow mostly melted save for the denser patches that could be seen scattered about the forest floor, the path now damp from the melt but no where near as muddy as the roads of Trent were. "We're making good time!"

"Yes, we should make it there before the sun goes down." , the elf stated as they raced down the path ever closer to there destination. But just as everything seemed to be going smoothly Alboin noticed some figures in the distance beginning to block the path. "Looks like you get your wish Pilar.", Alboin called out to her when he realized the figures blocking the road was a group bandits and thieves. He slowed his horse down preparing to stop it a safe distance out of harms way.

A devilish grin lights up her face as she sees the group foolishly attempting to bar their path. She allowed Keelios to continue several paces past Sylvia to stop just short of the bandits, the intimidating stallion rearing up and lashing out with hooves with a whinny before coming down hard, large hooves leaving imprints in the dirt of the road. Pilar regarded the group cooly, "Step aside."

"Uuuh sure miss...just as soon as ya hand over all your silver, dos nice horses...", one of the bandits gestured. "...and possibly yourself as well.", one of the other ones suggested in a creepy manner; his comrades cheering in agreeing and amusement . "Now how about you hop off that horse like two good little elves so we don't have to get too rough with ya?"

Pilar flashed her most innocent of smiles, casually inching Keelios closer to the ring leader, inch bye inconspicuous inch. "Oh, but rough is so much more fun." Before the man could bat an eye, Pilar moved like lightning, rearing back and striking out with a powerful kick, her boot heel connecting ruthlessly with the man's jaw, an audible crunch of teeth and bone heard before vaulting off the saddle backwards and falling into a battlestance, ready for the next attacker with a wild grin on her face.

Alboin dismounted his horse but saw no need to get directly in the fight knowing Pilar could handle herself and wanted to have some fun. Instead, he drew his great bow and covered her from a distance watching her back. "Storm, Frost go play!", his two wolves went from passive to lethal in an instant; covering ground faster than the men could react before being pounced upon and attacked viciously by the large animals.

Keelios had reared up and struck out with a foreleg, catching another bandit in the chest and sending him reeling as the wolves leapt into the fray, Pilar streaking in like lightning aiming a strike to another bandit's throat, dropping him and whirling around to trip up the second with a leg sweep. She didn't draw her weapon just yet, after all, they were only humans standing in the way and there would be no sport in simply cutting them down for their stupidity. Unless one drew on her first, her sword would remain sheathed. A palm strike to another bandit's nose sent him staggering and Pilar leapfrogged over him to catch another by the wrist, spinning to throw him over a shoulder with a splintering snap of his wrist bone, sending him to the dirt with a heavy thud as he landed unpleasantly on his back squealing in pain.

"Satisfied now?", Alboin asked Pilar in amusement. He whistled for Frost and Storm to return, and the two wolves came jogging back over to him; bushy tails happily wagging as they came over to give Alboin licks. He gave them both treats and scratched their fluffy white necks as he watched Pilar making sure no one snuck up on her.

Pilar huffed, standing with her hands akimbo, surveying her handiwork with a disappointed scowl, "Too easy. They always make it too easy!" she complained, stepping over a prone figure groaning miserably in the mud. She collected Keelios' reins and returned to Alboin's side, looking bored all over again. "Well, at the very least I got a little bit of exercise in, I guess." She shrugged but he couldn't miss the pout on her face. She was hoping for a challenge and as usual, she was disappointed. "Waste of time. We should have just plowed through them." She swung back up in her saddle and turned Keelios about, "That was...what- two? Three?- minutes of daylight we won't get back."

"I almost doubt any battle would satisfy your thirst.", Alboin laughed as he was about to saddle up onto Sylvia again. He stopped a moment in thought and instead walked over to the bandits. He stepped over the leader and took the pouch of silver he had stolen from others that rode along this path earlier that day. Alboin then tossed the pouch to Pilar. "That is payment for wasting the ladies time.", he commented before heading back to his horse to actually saddle up this time. "Also let that be a reminder of how it feels to be beaten and have your money taken from you the next time you try a stunt like this, filth." , Alboin added as his horse and wolves walked by the group of laid out thieves."Someone move this trash out of the road!", Alboin called out to no one in particular. "How are decent folk expected to ride and travel in such conditions."

Pilar grinned at her companion, pocketing the coin pouch after deftly snatching it out of the air as it was tossed her way. "Hey, a girl can hope!" she chirruped jokingly. She brought Keelios up alongside Sylvia and nodded to the Archer with a dip of her chin, "Let's get going, no point wasting any more time on these morons." With a click of her tongue and a flick of the reins, she urged the massive stallion forward into another trot, soon accelerating into a gallop as they resumed their journey towards Calpheon city.

"Yes, thankfully they didn't waste too much of our time. After being out in this cold weather nothing would be more welcome than a nice warm bath.", he replied to Pilar as the rode off; leaving the injured criminals behind scattered on the road in varying degrees of pain. "At least they were kind enough to give us some money back for the horses we bought", Alboin smirked in delight. The elf noticed them quickly approaching a river up head and bridge that would allow them safe crossing. "We must be getting closer now. This area is very familiar.", he stated, eager to end his journey for the time being.

As they rode on towards their destination, Keelios and Sylvia kept up their pace with ease, hardly breathing hard, proof of the quality of their breeding in their endurance. The sound of their hooves hitting dirt with a muted thunk soon shifted into a rhythmic clack as the metal shoes struck stone of the bridge, drawing them closer towards their destination, evident by the increase in the presence of civilians of the city appearing on or along the road, some farming, some driving wagons, some simply strolling. "We should hit the gates any moment now!"

After a few more minutes they saw it, the southern entrance to Calpheon near the noble district and large cathedral. As they arrived in front of the stable Alboin got off his horse. "Take good care of her and make sure she's nice and clean.", the elven man addressed the stable workers. "She's worth the silver spent on her and I'd like to keep it that way." Alboin looked over awaiting Pilar who sat upon her massive black horse.

The Dark Knight blew a sigh of relief as they came up to the stables in a casual trot, able to feel the subtle shift in climate temperature with her acute elvish senses. It was a much-needed reprieve from the cold they just came from, the chill here in Calpheon far more bearable by far. She dismounted, landing lightly on her feet as another stable hand came out to collect her steed. Keelios reared up, whinnying in protest at strangers handling his reins, his sheer bulk and aggressive power forcing the stable hands to retreat, surprised and afraid. Pilar reined him in, calming him with some softly spoken words in elvish, her hands smoothing down his muzzle and once he appeared soothed, she beckoned the timid stable workers over, "Do not be afraid, horses can sense fear." She scolded, handing the reins over to a man that dared to come closer than the others, his expression wary, "Take good care of him. If you do not, I will know." She leveled a pointed look at all of them, one that showed she was deadly serious to which the stable hand nodded feverishly, "Y-yes'm!"

"Alright, lets go find our selves a good place to stay. It seems we are in the better part of town so this is a good place to start.", Alboin mentioned to his friend. "If we don't find a nice Inn we may as well just rent a place and make it worthy of us.", he then suggested upon further thought as the headed through the gates and into town.

Pilar nodded and followed Alboin, trusting him to lead the way. They passed numerous folk that crowded the streets of Calpheon, various races of all shapes, sizes, and genders going about their lives pedaling their wares or running errands. The diversity was surprising as they wove their way through the crowds, avoiding merchants attempting to get their attention and shady folk who would more than likely attempt to pick their pockets. "Have a place in mind?" she implored, looking to Alboin as they walked side by side, garnering many stares both curious and appreciative in their direction as they went.

"Unfortunately, no. But we are in the better part of town so the inn on this side is our only option unless we get a place of our own. " the elven man explained his reasoning to Pilar. "We will take a look at it and see if it meets your standards. If you can tolerate staying in it for a night we'll use it and find a better place for us early tomorrow.", he spoke as they walked. Alboin's eyes scanning the buildings looking for the sign above one of them that shows that it's an Inn.

Pilar shrugged absently as they walked, spotting the Inn looming ahead as they rounded a corner, "If it is suitable for you than it is for me." she reassured. As they neared, the sound of the tavern life began to increase, obnoxious laughter, drunken shouts, and off key singing mixed with the clank of mugs and other dishes and from what she could see through the fogged up windows, it was pretty crowded. Dutifully, Pilar moved ahead of Alboin protectively, opening the door first once close enough, her free hand on the hilt of her dagger, leading the way inside. The place reeked of booze, sweat, cheap perfume, cigarettes, and food. A cook prepared meals at a small kitchenette behind the bar where the barkeep hustled out drinks along the counter, the barmaids working double time with their trays overfilled and overflowing with orders they hurried out to crowded tables. Some folk were playing darts, some cards, others partaking in some form of merriment and even one or two were out cold in their seats. The upper floor, Pilar could spot a player or two, tempting the unsuspecting from their coin in exchange for carnal pleasures, a signaler helping a companion cheat at cards at a table below, and a few just observing the crowd from a higher and less crowded vantage point. At the moment, there seemed no immediate danger but even so, Pilar stuck close to Alboin's side like a protective watchdog as he sought out the innkeeper.

Alboin sighed, "I have a feeling this is already going to be a big fat NO. But I'll humor it anyway, maybe Ill get the rarest of surprises." His blue eyes moved to Pilar who was protectively walking ahead of him. She had always been that way and even if it was her duty he never fully understood it, but given some thought, he'd do the same for her. This is his oldest and possibly only real friend after all. "Pilar I think that may be him over there.", the elf pointed toward the man spoke some words to the bartender that they couldn't hear over the crowd but he then exited from behind the bar to continue on to whatever his next ask was. Not just anyone is allowed behind a bar of an establishment, so Alboin had a good hunch about this.

"I honestly would not be surprised if this was the best they had to offer," she commented dryly. It was certainly a far shot from the beautiful inns of Grana with their refined chefs, polished floors, glimmering walls, and soothing harp music. It was almost laughable how drastically different the two cultures were. Sad, but laughable. She just hoped the beds were at least clean otherwise they would be better off sleeping outside. As Alboin pointed out the man that exited from behind the bar, Pilar nodded, catching sight of the man. She waited for Alboin to take lead, once more knowing her weakness in diplomacy, following her companion through the crowded room. She noted they got more than a few curious stares, some lewder than others, but she was hardly bothered by them. She could take on every single person in the bar and hardly break a sweat with their poor state. Still, she hovered close, a hand on her dagger just in case as Alboin caught up with the Innkeeper.

"Excuse me.", Alboin put on his best face as he approached the man. "Is this your inn and tavern?", he then asked. The man turned to see who was asking."Yeah, this is my place...what can I do for you? If its a drink the barkeep over there can help you.", the innkeeper gestured. "No, no me and my friend here were looking to get a room for the night. The names Alboin by the way sorry for the late introduction.", Alboin explained after properly greeting the man. "The names Darren. And yeah...I think we can get a room for you, follow me.", the innkeeper waved an arm for them to follow as he leads them out of the bar area and through the door into the inn portion of the building. The man walked them upstairs and grabbed the ring of keys from his hip as they reached an empty room; unlocking it for the pair. As the door squeaked open it revealed a rather average room. Not the cleanest but not utterly filthy either. Alboin tried to contain his disgust and tried another approach.

"Hmmm, surely you have another room?", Alboin pulled the man aside a little. "I don't want to disappoint my date tonight Darren. Look at her. Is that the kind of elven beauty you'd want to disappoint on a special night?" , gave the man a charming smirk. Darren looked past Alboin's shoulder at Pilar; checking her from head to toe. He gave a nod of approval and suck of his teeth in thought as if trying to remove a piece of food from between them. "Look I'll tell you what. If you've got the silver I've got a room I usually only reserve for special VIP diplomats that show up here in town.", he stated as he looked back to Alboin who gave him a nod. "Come on.", the innkeeper leads them to the top floor. "On this floor, there are only 2 rooms. Mine and the special one I told you of." The man then went to one of the two special keys on his rings and opened the door once they walked over to it. Upon opening the door one could tell exactly what he meant. The room was decked out in fancy furniture, a hot tub, the finest of flooring, sheets, drapes. "Yes, this one will definitely do.", Alboin spoke up deeming the room fit enough for Pilar and himself. The elven male paid the man well for his trouble and was given the key. "Alright, you two uhhh...enjoy your special night.", the innkeeper said with a smile and a wink before heading back downstairs.

#ic happenings #short story #Alboin Trislee

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