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angelictrl · 3 years

Note

hii can i request headcanons for shin being around and then being asked out by his crush ? thanks !!

SHIN BEING AROUND AND THEN CONFESSED TO BY HIS CRUSH.

enjoy the long read n lmk if this wasn’t what you wanted ! i can redo with a non death game au !! also goddamn it, i realized i kin the bastard man. my dumb ass was like “huh ? how is this so in character ?” then i realized i projected wayyyy too much and . kinnie moment besties !!11! 😀✌

WARNING ;; spoilers, spoilers, SPOILERS - up to chapter 2 p2 - and angst 🤙

SHIN TSUKIMI/SOU HIYORI

at first, he’s not sure how to go about getting a crush. i mean, you guys are in a death game, he can’t go getting attached to people like this. especially not in a romantic context ... he’s got to do everything in his power to stay away from you. that’s the key to survival.

in the beginning, he’s polite and even a bit playful, being awfully keen on giving you compliments here and there, but he tries desperately to keep you at an arm’s length despite his friendly act.

being thrusted into the death game was an eye opener for him, and he became a lot more hypervigilant and paranoid due to it. thanks to this, he quickly takes note of his feelings and acknowledges them, but that doesn’t mean that he accepts them. at least, not willingly.

when his “true nature” is revealed during the main game, he’ll disregard his feelings for you and rope you in with the others. after all, he’s the one with the lowest percentage. at least you even have a higher score - no matter what it might be - and at this point, he’s mainly running on jealousy and frustration as everyone turns their back on him for being cautious.

if you dare to try and come comfort him during and/or after the trial, he’ll smile sweetly at you, but his words and tone won’t match his expression.

“... you’re quite the stubborn one, aren’t you, mx y/n ? i don’t see how you could be so cheerful and reliant on others in our situation. after all, people are dropping like flies all around us. joe, kai, and professor mishima are all examples of this. aren’t you scared ? ... no ? because ... you have allies ? ... phft. ahaha, that’s funny ... ! sure ... believe what you will naively, but know that in the end, everyone here wants to survive no matter what. and i know that you’re no exception, so stop pretending.”

and then he’ll stare into your eyes blankly, the feeling of resentment strong in his presence no matter your response or expression before swiftly leaving you to ponder on his belittling tone and harsh words.

on a lighter note, he gets extremely nervous around you, but he won’t let it show. the only thing that really does out him is the way that his palms get really sweaty as he begins overheating in his bundles of clothing along with his faint blush coating the tips of his ears, but luckily his beanie covers it up for him.

he’s really pale, so if you’re the type to tease him, he’ll act grumpy so that the red in his face looks as if he's agitated with you. he’ll even throw in an irritated sigh and huff occasionally, but he’s really just shy and not sure how to respond in the situation you two are in.

during the attractions, he subconsciously makes excuses to convince himself to go partner up with you, always trying to point out the qualities you have that would “benefit him so that he could win dilligently.”

normally, he’d go with kanna, but when it’s a more dangerous attraction, he shoos her away saying that “she’d only get in his way because she’s so weak” - not that he’s any stronger himself, but, y’know the deal.

times like these, you’re his go-to partner, and he’ll even scold you sometimes ? like what ??? but whatever, the dude’s trying to show his concern for you discreetly.

“aha, careful now, mx y/n. if you keep accepting these invitations from me so eagerly, who knows when i’ll manipulate you next or leave you to die in an attraction ? you shouldn’t trust so easily. even worse ... i might just think you’ve begun to fall in love with me ... just kidding. now, let’s begin, shall we ? after you.”

you could consider doing an attraction with him like a date. a very life-threatening and anxiety-inducing date. he’s not all too strong, but he has a strong premonition, and will make sure you don’t end up getting hurt.

he’s also a lot more smart than the people in your group give him credit for - he’s not just some rude bastard - plus, he tries to lighten the mood when he sees you panicking by trying to cheer you up.

“hey, mx y/n ... don’t seem so pale as if you’ve just seen a ghost, now. we’re almost done, so stop thinking about how far we have left to go and think about how far we’ve gotten.”

if you manage to get hurt anyhow, he’ll silently sit you down in the medical room with safalin and treat your injury himself with a sincere and fixated gaze. it’s a very intimate moment and a rare sight of his true self being exposed before he flashes you his iconic smile afterwards. he’ll jokingly tell you to stop being such a klutz before taking his leave.

nearing the end of the attractions to the subgame is when you ask him out, and he couldn’t feel more conflicted. i mean, hell, he’s fucking in love with you, but it’s at the worst time and in the worst place. though, there’s no good time or place to confess in this hellhole.

he’ll look like a fish out of water searching for words before begrudgingly looking around to make sure no one else is nearby, sighing deeply when the coast is clear. he’ll even take his beanie off his head and ruffle his hair, holding that damn hat to his chest before gazing at you sincerely.

“... mx y/n ... i do ... really like you - that’s the honest truth - but i don’t think being in a relationship at the moment is the best idea. if our feelings get out ... it could be used against us by anyone, and i wouldn’t want that ... for either of us. but - please ... don’t look so down ... when this is all over, i would love to go on a date with you.”

after he shows you the real him, shin, he’ll give you a short and inexperienced yet tender kiss, blushing evidently before snuggly fitting his beanie back on his head and wishing you goodnight with a kiss on the cheek.

he doesn’t dare remind you that he has a O.O% chance of surviving so all a relationship with him would do would break your heart. internally, he struggles with some conflict that you deserve better and he should’ve just been harsher to push you away and get over him, but something about you just turns him to putty in your hands and he can’t help it. you’re dangerous.

it also doesn’t stop him from occasionally pulling you aside when nobody is near and kissing you like it’s his last moments. which ... sadly enough, isn’t honestly far-fetched.

during the next main game, his feelings are hell to experience. despite how much he goes on and on trying to push you away to the public eye and make suspicious remarks, you just keep. coming. back. like a stray dog being fed by every flirtatious remark and touch. it’d be a whole lot more cuter and endearing to him if he wasn’t in a death game fearing for his life.

you’ve grown on him. both you and kanna have leeched onto his heart and he has to come to terms with that. he’s always felt some kind of unspoken familial bond with kanna despite the way he treats her, and seeing you always hang out with her even when he’s not around since the two of them are usually inseperable has made him fall even deeper in love with you.

... and it’s pissing him off and wearing him thin.

as much as he tries to convince everyone to vote for him, kanna keeps insisting that she should be voted for instead because it's the only logical way to survive. he’s on the verge of a panic attack, and keeps having to grip his podium tightly from ripping his hair out.

the poor guy is heaving by now, thoughts of survival, kanna, and you, all spiraling as his balance teeters. he would’ve been swaying back and forth about to fall down had it not been for the podium supporting his weight.

god forbid you touch him in this moment. he wants nothing more than to bury his face into your chest or neck and let out all his trapped emotions, but damn it, he doesn’t want you to worry about him. all that matters anyhow is that kanna lives.

“please, y/n, please, vote for me. i’m begging you. i’ll just die anyway.”

the next two votes for you and sara are in your hands, and regardless of your vote(s), there’s a O.O% chance of you getting your happy ending.

yttd masterlist.

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everamazingfe · 3 years

Text

Magic in the Mundane

Fic Summary: Everyone had something special about them, their own personal bit of magic. Most found out about their abilities early, but Gavin had always been a bit of a late bloomer. Luckily, Michael comes by to help him put the pieces together.

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Words in this chapter: 5521 Pairings: Gavin Free/Michael Jones Warnings for this chapter: None

Notes: Written for Kait (@uy8hg) for the RT Writer’s Discord Secret Sunshine event! All of her prompts were amazing and I spent far too long trying to decide between them, but I'm so glad that I decided to go with this one because it was so much fun to write. Check the source for a link to read it over on A 0 3!

Prompt: Someone discovers a new power or something that they find really cool, and they want to show it off to everyone else, with varying levels of success.

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In a world full of wonder, it wasn’t always easy to appreciate the beauty in the mundane, but those who had magic running through their veins found it quite simple. The way that magic would manifest itself in those people wasn’t always the same, though. Sometimes, the magic was in their personality. Jack had a warmth about him that could make anyone’s day better in a matter of seconds. Trevor’s charisma was off the charts, he was such a smooth talker that it was hard for anyone to dislike him unless they really tried. Other times, it was in their looks. Alfredo had a smile that could light up any room, big and beaming and bright enough to outshine the sun. Geoff had amazingly artistic tattoos that seemed to come alive if one looked at them a little too long (he would always deny this, but there was a gleam in his eye that made everyone think twice about his words). Sometimes, it was something else entirely. Their magic came in the form of special abilities, of genuine magic. Lindsay could speak to animals, using their skills for good a majority of the time, but otherwise causing mischief. Michael could create just as well as he could destroy, rendering entire buildings obsolete and creating new ones in their wake.

There was a little bit of magic in everything, but oftentimes there were those that couldn’t see it in themselves. That was where Gavin stood. He was a smooth talker, sure, but not as smooth as Trevor. His smile wasn’t as bright as Alfredo’s. He didn’t have any magical abilities. Though he was welcomed into their group, he didn’t feel as though he belonged. He didn’t have any magic. They insisted that he was part of their crew, magic or not, and that he was welcome, but sometimes he didn’t want their comforts. He just wanted to be left alone. It was hard enough to be the lone member of the mundane in their little crew, he didn’t want their pity points on top of it. Still, it didn’t stop them from trying to help.

“Maybe you’re just a late bloomer?” Fiona suggested to him late one evening when the sun had already set, laid out on her back on the roof of a building Michael had created just for her. Her magic was her ability to be good at anything she set her mind to, with an unwavering confidence that Gavin admired (and sometimes envied), even when it was misplaced. “Or you could just be totally oblivious to it. That’s always an option.”

He let out a soft sigh, shrugging a shoulder as he turned his head to look at her. “Someone else would’ve noticed it in me by now though, I think. Everyone has something, even if they're not the ones who see it.” Those who had magic were usually pretty good at picking it out in others. It had been how those without genuine magic had discovered theirs. How Jack had discovered his warmth, how Ky had discovered her strength, and so on.

Fiona bit her lip, going quiet. He had a point there, but she didn’t want to admit it. She hated when he was right. “Maybe your magic is just being an idiot?” There was a grin on her lips, but the way that she spoke made it sound like a genuine suggestion. Gavin couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, his and Fiona’s giggles echoing out across the landscape.

“Kind of a shitty magic, don’t you think, Fifi?” He asked finally, when his sides ached from laughing and his lungs begged for air. “I know Michael would certainly agree with you, but… I really hope that’s not it.”

“I don’t know, Gavvy. Could be. But I hope that’s not it too. I think you’re made for something a bit better than that.” Instead of pity, or jokes, she gave him a vote of confidence, and there was a little gleam that formed in Gavin’s eyes at her words.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do!

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The day after speaking to Fiona, Gavin was still thinking about her words. Despite how good it had made him feel in the moment, they’d ended up putting him in a worse mood than usual, and it was hard for him to even begin thinking about the magic he might have held. Was he really meant for something better than the idiocy his friends assigned to him? He wasn’t sure.

He’d set out on a hike, outside of the city that they’d made for themselves and into the woods surrounding it. Some time out in nature always made him feel better, more at ease, more connected to the magic of the world around him. The small nuances on how the ecosystem worked together to thrive always intrigued him, and he was jealous of how cohesive it all could be.

“I’m just a bit too all over the place for it, I guess,” he muttered to himself, taking a seat on a fallen tree. The moss was soft beneath him, and he ran his fingers over it as he talked to himself. Working through his thoughts aloud always made them feel less jumbled.

A figure sat down beside him with a heavy sigh, and a hand was placed over his. “Don’t beat yourself too much, Gav,” Geoff said quietly, wrapping his arm around Gavin and pulling himself close. “We can’t all be something special, otherwise there wouldn’t be anything special at all.”

Gavin let out a long sigh, leaning into the gent when he was pulled in. He’d stopped asking how Geoff could find him so easily long ago. It was the same answer every time, ‘I just know where to look, you assholes aren’t exactly all that hard to find,’ said with that same glint in his eye. “Yeah, I know. But it’d be nice to be able to do something more than exist.”

Geoff hummed softly, rubbing his thumb gently over Gavin’s shoulder. It always made him feel guilty when any of his friends were upset, particularly Gavin, but he’d been so hung up on the same thing for so long. “Are you sure you don’t just want an excuse for the attention to be back on you for a change?”

The lad sat up quickly, pulling away from Geoff and cutting him a confused look. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying! Going around talking to everyone, being all mopey about not having magic? Pretty good way to get everyone to pay attention to you for a change, right?”

Gavin scoffed at the notion, pushing Geoff away from him. “That’s not what I’m doing at all!”

“Are you sure?” He asked, arching an eyebrow as Gavin stood up suddenly.

“Yes.” They’d had a few new members join their ranks, and attention was divided as they worked to expand their little city and network with others, but he hadn’t minded people paying less attention to him. If anything, he enjoyed it. It meant there was less pressure on him to perform. “Now, I’m going. And this time, you’re not allowed to search for me.”

He didn’t even know where he was going, he just wanted to go away. He wondered if that’s what everyone thought, or if Geoff was just trying to get a rise out of him. If they all thought that way, they’d certainly never said anything of the sort, but this was how people were going to treat him, Gavin didn’t want to be around them.

“What a dick,” he muttered to himself, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he walked deeper into the forest. It was a beautiful green and gold tapestry, the hues blending together to make a simple but pleasing pattern. The threads had been hand-woven by Matt and enchanted to protect its wearer from whatever may come their way, and it did a remarkable job.

As he ventured deeper into the woods, the trees grew taller and thicker, blocking out the sun’s rays and sending a chill through the air. As the coldness began to creep in, the cloak kept him warm and made him feel safe. However, it couldn’t protect him from the turmoil inside his own mind.

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In the city center, Michael was having a different sort of crisis, and his angry shouting could be heard all across the land.

“You said what to him?!’

His relationship to Gavin was indiscernible at best, no one knew whether they were deeply in love or mortal enemies, but one thing was certain: he was fiercely protective of the fact that he was the only one allowed to bully Gavin, and anyone else could only do so with his permission. Whether they were soulmates or archnemesis, Gavin was his boi first and foremost.

“I just suggested that maybe being an idiot was his form of magic! It was funny, we were both laughing!” Fiona said, completely oblivious to the way that Michael was shooting daggers her way. Usually Michael played along with her playful teasing of Gavin, so when he didn’t continue to make jokes, she looked over. “Don’t you give me that look, you’re thinking it too.”

“I’m not, though.” Fiona scoffed, and Michael all but growled. “I’m not. You all underestimate him, and when he does find his magic, you’re going to be blown away. All of you will be.” There was a special sort of conviction to his words, one that was usually reserved for saying the most ridiculous things completely stone-faced.

Michael stormed off after that, ignoring Fiona’s demands for him to keep hanging out with her. Movement came from the bushes on the outskirts of their community, spotted just out of the corner of his eye, but his attention snapped towards it in an instant only to reveal that the movement was caused by Geoff. His eyebrows furrowed as the other tried to pretend like he wasn’t covered in burrs and twigs, like he wasn’t trying to sneak out of the brush and back into the city unnoticed.

“Do you know where Gavin is?” he asked instantly, lifting a hand swiftly to raise a dirt wall behind Geoff, who was trying to retreat back into the bushes as quickly as he’d come out of them.

“Why would I know where he is?” Geoff asked, his voice pitchy and lilted like he certainly did know where Gavin was, but also that he knew that revealing that information would get him in more trouble with Michael than not at the same time.

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, the ground beneath his feet rumbling and propelling him like a moving walkway until he was nose to nose with Geoff. “Because you know where everyone is, you always know.”

There wasn’t fear in Geoff’s eyes, but the man’s chest rose and fell rapidly with anxious breaths. The staredown was long and tense, though he eventually relented, letting out a long sigh as the wall behind him fell. He wasn’t going anywhere. “I spoke to him in the woods maybe an hour ago, he told me that I’m not allowed to look for him, but here.” He reached into his gear, pulling out a weathered piece of parchment that was rolled and tied with a thin strip of leather. A map, one that he’d made with the same magic that lived in his tattoos, that not only held the lay of the land but also markers for everyone who lived in it. Geoff offered it to Michael, who quickly swiped it from him and unrolled it. “He never said anything about you going after him.”

The lad hummed quietly as his eyes scanned the map for the forest green marker that indicated Gavin’s name, wordlessly stepping beyond the brush and into the woods towards it.

“I don’t even get a thank you?!” Geoff cried out behind him, annoyed by the lack of gratitude. The ground beneath his feet rose suddenly, knocking him off his feet and onto the earth. He cried out, flailing his arms in an attempt to stop himself from falling, but it was futile. Michael was already gone.

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The woods looked easy to traverse on the map, and they most likely would have been if Michael had stayed on the trails, but he opted to make a beeline towards Gavin. The terrain was rocky and there were steep cliffs off the beaten path, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. He could mend and mold the earth to make it easier to traverse, creating stairs along the cliff faces for an easy descent. The climate was what was really getting to him. The chill in the air was unbearable for him, only getting worse as the sun began to dip down, and he had a bear’s pelt to keep him warm. Gavin’s frame was thinner and frailer than his own, he most likely wasn’t faring any better.

He lit a torch as night fell, raising up dirt and stone walls around himself to block out the cold and keep himself safe from the nocturnal monsters around him. After jamming the torch into the wall, he unfurled his map and saw that Gavin’s marker had stopped moving and was instead spinning around in frantic circles. Evidently, he was trying to make camp for the night as well. With a swift movement of his hand, miles away on the other side of the woods, similar walls raised up around Gavin, and the marker finally stopped moving. Satisfied that his boi was safe, he settled down, wrapping his pelt around himself tightly for warmth as he laid down to sleep.

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Gavin was startled as the dirt walls rose up around him, terrified that something was trying to trap him within them, though he quickly became at ease when he realized what it meant. Geoff had listened and wasn’t going to be searching for him, but Michael was certainly looking out for him instead. The fear that came from being alone out there dissipated as he ran his fingers down the dirt, pulling out several clumps of roots and knocking bits of earth loose. Dirt walls were less than fancy, but they were a great comfort regardless.

He slept easily through the night with a newfound sense of safety, his cloak pulled tightly around himself for warmth. It worked wonders against the cold. As the sun began to rise, it didn’t emerge from the clouds, the sky grey and dreary as rain began to fall. Gavin could hear the rain hitting the tops of the trees, but even as he began to move none of the drops ever hit him. Above him, the branches of the trees bent and molded, shielding him from the downpours as he walked. No doubt this is Michael’s doing, he thought to himself, a small smile forming on his lips. No matter how much they seemed to argue, the other lad still managed to be protective of him. It was something he was always grateful for, even when the others seemed to give him shit for it.

His pace that day was slower, more leisurely now that he had calmed down some, but he still had no intentions of going back to the city. If Michael was the only one who cared enough to come for him, they could start their own city far, far away. Together. He quickly shook the thought from his mind, pushing his hood down and taking a look around. Though the trees were tall above him for now, he knew that if he just kept going they’d give way to a beautiful, grassy plain. He couldn’t wait to walk on grass again, the dirt and stones beneath him were starting to make his feet ache.

Several yards from where he’d first had that thought, he had to stop, kneeling down to untie his boots so he could re-lace them tightly. Moving slowly, he bent down, not wanting to end up with another cut on his knee from landing too hard on a rock like he’d already done far too many times this trek. But the terrain beneath his knee was soft, and as he looked down at his boot, he saw that there was soft, lush grass beneath him. Not dirt.

“What on earth?” He asked himself, brushing his fingers through it. There was some grass on the forest floor around him, but it was rough and patchy, nothing like this. “Michael’s really outdone himself this time.” With that thought, he smiled to himself before continuing to lace up his boots with deft fingers. Before he stood, he spotted a small wildflower that had bloomed among the blades , and he gently picked it and placed it behind his ear. “What a dope.”

What Gavin didn’t know was that Michael didn’t have the ability to create foliage or flowers underfoot. No one in their community did. And with each step that Gavin took, more of it sprouted up from the dirt beneath him.

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Night fell again soon enough, and Gavin wasn’t sure where he was. He could’ve sworn that the forest gave way into plains at this point, but instead he found himself in the middle of the desert. Stupidly, he’d continued on, just in case the plains were just beyond it, though now he was too tired to turn back.

“Maybe Fiona was right,” he muttered as he sat down in the sand, digging his toes into it and wiggling them for some amusement as he propped his cloak up over himself like an umbrella. It was nighttime now, but it would be morning again soon enough. He didn’t want to end up burnt to a crisp before he even woke up. No walls came up around Gavin this time either, so it was up to him to protect himself.

Gavin leaned forward against his knees, peering up at the night sky for a few long moments. Jeremy had spent many long nights back in the city teaching him the constellations and the stars within them, though he could never tell which ones were real and which ones the lad had made up for his own amusement. Orion was certainly real, but Beauregard’s Chariot was almost certainly not. Almost. He picked that one out, finding comfort in its familiarity, before he decided it was time to get some rest. Toes still in the sand, he laid back, arms crossed beneath his head as he closed his eyes. He had been so focused on the sky that he was unaware of what was happening in the sand beneath him.

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With Gavin’s slowed pace, Michael was able to start gaining on him. He raced through the trees with even greater speed now that he was beyond the craggy cliffs and difficult landscape, the earth moving beneath him to propel him along. By nighttime, he’d closed in on Gavin’s position, and he was stunned by what he saw.

Smack dab in the middle of the desert, where not even cacti could manage to survive due to the horrible heat and scorching sunbeams, Gavin found himself within an oasis. That same lush grass and wildflowers were no longer just underfoot, but in a wide circle around the lad, almost tall enough to completely hide him from Michael’s view. Small trees were even beginning to grow, supporting Gavin’s cloak above him in place of the flimsy sticks he’d set up before.

“Gavin?” Michael called softly, stepping forward with caution in case it was a facade, a trap of some sort. The desert was known for causing hallucinations, for preying on the hope of the desperate. That was the kind of magic it held, and it was very skillful at using it. But as he knelt down at the edge of the circle and reached forward to feel the greenery, sure enough, it was real. “What the hell? Gavin! Wake the fuck up!”

The lad sat bolt upright with a start, catching himself in his cloak and fighting it off with all the fierceness of a kitten. Sleep was still gripping him, catching him somewhere between being wide awake and deep asleep, but he was quickly coming to. “Who’s there?!” He shouted, finally tossing his cape away from himself and looking around in confusion. “Michael?” That wasn’t the last thing he expected to see out there, but it wasn’t the first either. “What are you doing here, Michael?”

It had taken everything in Michael not to laugh at the display in front of him, but he quickly wiped the smirk off his face to look offended when Gavin addressed him so incredulously. “Jeez, don’t sound so happy to see me,” he drawled, rolling his eyes before shuffling forward on his knees. “Mind telling me what all this is?” He arched an eyebrow, gesturing to the small haven among the sand.

However, Gavin had no more answers than Michael did. “I’m not… I’m not sure what it is,” he responded earnestly, glancing between it and the other lad before reaching for his cloak. “I thought you were doing it. You’re not?” Michael shook his head fervently, and Gavin only frowned as he pulled the garment on. “Then who is?”

Michael shrugged a shoulder, humming a soft ‘I don’t know’ before standing, stalking around the mysterious growth. This wasn’t anything that anyone he knew could do, and when he tried to make it happen himself, all he could do was raise the earth itself. He couldn’t make anything grow from it. Which left only one option…

“Come here,” he said suddenly, and Gavin looked at him like he’d asked him to do something insane. “Stand up! Get the hell over here!” When there was still no movement from him, Michael reached forward, hauling Gavin to his feet and yanking him out of the circle. Sure enough, grass sprouted up beneath the lad’s feet, extending the circle and connecting it to wherever he stepped. “Holy shit… Gavin! Look!”

Gavin had thought that Michael was angry at him, scolding him, but the tone of his voice was nothing but excited. Thrilled, even. He followed Michael’s gaze down to his feet, but he wasn’t quick enough to put the pieces together like the other had. “This happened to me back in the forest too! I don’t know what’s going on!”

“You’ve found your magic, that’s what’s going on!” Michael was practically screaming, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking at Gavin with a big beaming grin. “You can make stuff grow! That’s incredible!”

That made things click for Gavin, finally, and his grin ended up matching Michael’s. “I can make stuff grow!” Geoff was going to be blown away, everyone was. He wondered if Michael would be okay with them going back to the city immediately, they’d be able to get there by morning thanks to his abilities. “Fiona was right!”

The other bristled immediately, his grin turning to a frown in a fraction of a second. “Fiona was… Right?” She’d told Gavin that his magic was being stupid, that his special ability was being an idiot. This certainly wasn’t that, not by a long shot. “Gavin, this isn’t stupid. This is awesome! Fiona wasn’t right.”

“What? What are you on about? No, she… She said I was made for something better than what everyone else thought. And she was right! Oh, and she’s had such shit luck getting flowers to grow at her place too, no wonder!” Gavin threw his arms around Michael’s neck, wrapping him in a tight hug that was fueled by nothing but pure glee, and he could only hug him back just as tight. “We have to get back there, immediately. Everyone is going to be so jealous, Michael-boi.”

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Some proper rest would’ve been a great benefit to them both, but Gavin had insisted that they return to the city as quickly as possible. The moving ground beneath their feet made it a relatively quick task, and Michael had managed to find a well-worn trail that made it even easier. They were back in the city by sunrise, and while the excitement had died down in Michael to give way to sleepiness, Gavin was no less giddy. Probably because he’d climbed on Michael’s back at one point and managed a small nap. Lucky bastard, Michael had thought to himself when he’d heard the soft snoring in his ear, but he hadn’t woken him up.

“Michael. Stop here, Michael,” Gavin urged, nearly losing his balance as the dirt beneath him ground to a halt suddenly. They were just outside the city, inside the same bushes that Geoff had attempted to sneak out of a few days prior, hidden from view as residents began to leave their houses to begin their tasks for the day. “I’m gonna get on your back-“

“You’re not taking another fucking nap,” Michael interjected, and the other huffed and waved him off.

“No! I’m gonna get on your back so I can do a grand reveal, you dolt. The flowers appear when I step, and if I step too soon the surprise will be ruined!”

“Hey, assholes!” Jeremy’s voice boomed across the city center, no doubt hearing the commotion, and Gavin quickly began to scramble onto Michael’s back.

“Ow! Watch it, you’re gonna knock off my glasses! Stop!” Michael huffed, swatting at Gavin’s hands as they reached for purchase anywhere they could. He stepped out of the bushes once he was settled, looking annoyed while the lad on his back was nothing but gleeful. “Hey, Lil J! I rescued our favorite dumbass. You’re welcome.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh as Gavin let out a little ‘hello!’ and waved, though he was curious about why the other was on Michael’s back. It wasn’t unlike Gavin to demand piggy-back rides. Though normally once Jeremy was in view, he made it his mission to climb onto his shoulders instead. “Gav, are you hurt? What’s going on?” He stepped up with caution, ready to call for help if needed. Injuries weren’t uncommon, but if Gavin needed to be carried, it must’ve been serious.

“No, the asshole’s not hurt. Not yet, at least. He’s just got a surprise for you,” Michael assured, rolling his eyes. “For everyone, actually. Do me a favor and ring the bell? They’re gonna want to be here for this.”

An eyebrow shot up, but Jeremy was quick to comply with the request. He crossed the city center, grabbing the rope and pulling it once, twice, three times to signal that it was a meeting of utmost importance, but not one that brought bad news. When the bell rang three times, it meant that there were good things to come.

Soon, all of the residents of the city were there, eagerly awaiting to learn the reason for this meeting. Very rarely did the bell ring thrice, and there were hushed whispers and guesses of what was to come. They all fell silent when Michael, with Gavin still on his back, stepped forward.

“I’ve found my magic,” Gavin announced, savoring the look on everyone’s faces as they processed that announcement. Particularly Geoff’s, whose face was twisted into one of apologetic guilt. A sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside of him at that. And of course Fiona was delighted, jumping up and down and pumping her fists, shouting ‘I knew it!’ before she even knew what Gavin’s magic was. It didn’t matter to her. Alfredo and Trevor were also excited, but only because their beloved Dusk Boy had finally joined their ranks, though Jack and Matt simply looked skeptical. He couldn’t blame them, really. Why now? Why did it take so long for him to find it? Those were the questions behind their eyes, and Gavin wished that he had answers for them.

When he felt like he’d let the suspense hang in there air for long enough, he stepped down. For a moment, nothing happened. Matt was about to open his mouth to complain about being dragged out of bed for a grand display of nothing. And then, all at once, a beautiful display of lush grass and flowers appeared at his feet. The more he focused on it, the bigger it grew and the more beautiful it became. No longer was it simply wildflowers, either. In the hours of their journey, he realized he could control the types of flowers that grew. He opted for sunflowers this time. Everyone knew that they were his favorite. It was proof that the magic was his, and not anyone else’s pretending to be his.

The reactions were mixed, and Gavin deflated a little as several people seemed unimpressed and walked off to return to their duties. It wasn’t the most spectacular power in the world, he knew that, but it was his and he liked it. That was what mattered to him. There wasn’t much time for him to mope though, as Fiona quickly rushed him, wrapping him in a hug and lifting him off his feet.

“Gavin!” she shouted, stepping back to inspect the flowers closer. She plucked a few blades of grass, feeling them between her fingers. After a few seconds, she gasped, her eyes lighting up. “You can help me grow flowers at my place!”

Gavin laughed, nodding quickly and beaming at her. He could always trust her to cheer him up. “I can, yeah. No wonder you’ve not been able to grow anything.”

“Yeah, cause you stole my green thumb! That’s hardly my fault.”

“Oh, I dunno about that. You should’ve been keeping a closer eye on it.”

They bickered back and forth, Michael watching with a tired but fond smile, until Fiona decided that she’d had enough and thumped Gavin on the side of the head before racing off. The lad was too exhausted to follow, so he just stepped over to Michael, the foliage underfoot following him as he went. Everyone else came up to congratulate him in time, Geoff doing that and apologizing for the harshness of his words in one awkward convoluted mess that Michael wasn’t even sure was an apology, but Gavin understood what the gent was trying to say. He’d learned to decode Geoff Speak over the years.

Still, the person whose opinion Gavin valued the most was Michael’s, and once the excitement had died down and they’d retreated to their homes to rest, Michael stopped by to give it.

“I’m real proud of you, Gav,” he said, making himself comfortable on the bed next to the lad without a second thought.

“Proud of me?” he asked, snatching his blankets back from the lad as he tried to steal them. Michael always did this to him.

“Yeah. Proud of you. For putting up with the bullshit and finding your magic. Even if it was a total accident.” Michael snorted out a soft laugh and smiled, crossing his arms beneath his head and looking over at the other. “You just lucked into it, just like you lucked into everything else.”

“Including you?” Gavin arched an eyebrow as he met the other’s gaze, desperately wanting to wipe that smug look off his face.”

“Especially me, are you kidding?” That comment earned him a gentle smack to the chest, a kiss to the cheek, and a mutter of ‘I’m going to make a tree grow through your damn house.’

To everyone else, their relationship was indiscernible at best. But Michael and Gavin knew exactly what they were to each other, they didn’t need anyone else in their business about it. They were partners. Not just in life and love, but in their magic as well. As he learned how to hone and control his abilities, Gavin would decorate the city and beautify the buildings that Michael had created. And once he had mastered his skills, Michael began to create buildings specifically for Gavin to embellish. Dirt roofs became his signature style, the gravity-defying feature held together by the roots of the flowers that Gavin planted into them. The city had never looked better, and even those who were initially unimpressed by Gavin’s abilities had to admit that it was perfectly suited to him. He took great pride in rubbing it in their faces.

Gavin was happy to not be a member of the mundane anymore. His spirits were higher, and he felt more useful to the city. His abilities, with more practice, extended beyond flowers and grass and into fruit and vegetable plants. The magic that Gavin held could sustain them all.

But Gavin had always held magic within him, in Michael’s eyes. He had never been mundane. That gleam in his eye when he got another crazy idea to cause chaos was nothing if not supernatural, and his ability to find the fun in even the most boring of situations had proven to be valuable time and time again. It just hadn’t been the form of magic that Gavin had always desired, so he never took note of it despite it always being there. Michael was just glad he could finally see it in himself too.

#ragehappy #rpf #mavin #oneshot #magic au #secret sunshine #secret sunshine event #fic #my fic #my writing #everamazingfe

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anonthenullifier · 3 years

Note

Fic request for touristy Maximoff family? (bc Vision's 'drunk' awkwardness in Wandavision ep 2 where he apologised to a handrail, is something that I as a Brit intensely and deeply relate to, and it reminded me of them hiding out in the UK in IW which also made me v emotional- they deserved better!)

Thanks for the ask! They really did deserve better and hopefully might get some happiness at some point. I hope you enjoy their family day trip!

***

“Where are the witches?”

Vision folds the map into a square and slides it back into his fanny pack, nonchalance embedded in the action “Oh, there are no witches.”

This isn’t what Billy wants to hear, “You said this is Witch House.”

“I did, yes.”

The conversation circles back around, “Then where are the witches?”

“Well technically there were never any true witches here in the first place.” Billy stares at Vision, betrayal drooping his mouth down into a deep and unforgiving frown. A history lesson isn’t going to save the moment, and yet her husband tries, determined to share the two weeks worth of research he’s conducted since they decided on the trip. “It is called Witch House because it was owned by Judge Jonathon Corwin who presided over some of the witch trials. Now, though some like to say witchcraft was rampant at the time, it in fact was -”

“But I wanted witches.” This is true, it was Billy’s only request—spooky witches to be precise. “You said there’d be witches.”

Tommy isn’t fully invested in the trip, having voted to go to an amusement park for their fall get-away, but he never passes up an opportunity to pile onto a complaint. “Yeah, where are the witches, dad?”

“Salem has far greater historical value than just the witch trials.” Not a smart tactic, which Vision realizes as soon as he says it, face scrunching up at the misstep while the gears in his eyes rotate furiously to the left signifying he’s attempting to figure out how to regain their confidence. “Um, from my understanding there may be some modern day witches in the village who provide tours and demonstrations. We can stop by once we have seen everything.”

This earns some consideration from their ten year olds. “Real witches or like herbal tea witches?”

Tommy piggybacks on his brother’s question, “Will they turn Billy into a frog?”

“No one is being transformed into an amphibian,” Vision reassures them.

“Lame.” Only a half hour in and the L word is out in the open, a new record for the Maximoffs.

Wanda rolls her eyes at the rebuttal and studies the building in front of them, a foreboding tiered facade with black wood trim that would fit right into a horror movie. Briefly she wonders if it was always black or if that was added to enhance the supernatural identity the town developed once they realized the tourism potential of their sordid past. If ominousness is what sells here, she knows how to reclaim their trip. “Vizh,” her husband meets her gaze,the exasperation of parenthood making him seem particularly desperate for her thoughts, “There was at least one witch you can tell them about.” Confusion crinkles his brow, “Agatha.”

Realization dawns, as if he had blocked out all memories of dear old Agatha. “Ah yes Agatha Harkness.” The name falters on his lips, uncertainty making residence in his body with the wringing of his hands. “I am not sure they are old enough to hear about-“

“You owe us a witch, dad.” Tommy is very dedicated now, a grave frown on his face and an arm wrapped tenderly around his twin’s shoulders. “Billy deserves a witch.”

Vision folds, shoulders inching down in submission of their desires. “Agatha Harkness,” it is not that they have had bad experiences, per se, with Agatha, but she always intersects with their lives at moments of both wonderful highs and crippling lows, which is why Vision seems to weigh her name so heavily. “You will not see the name Agatha Harkness in any of the books about Salem.” Wanda can feel Vision mentally shut the books of information he’d acquired for the day. “She was a witch, a real one and very powerful as well as very old.”

“How old?” Billy’s eyes are shining at the change in tone for the trip. “Like ancient?”

“Positively ancient.” An enormous grin erupts on Billy’s face, while Tommy stands unusually rapt. “There are accounts of her presence all the way back to 10,500 BC, there are even rumors she was involved in the lost city of Atl-”

A cloyingly sweet and chipper “Excuse me,” breaks the story and the atmosphere. The voice belongs to a short, blonde haired woman in a puffy vest and flannel shirt, “I couldn’t help but overhear your tour and was hoping we could join.” The we is a man a few years older than the woman, his gray mustache thick enough to hide whatever his feelings are about the request.

Vision’s lips part and then close a few times, hand half raised as he processes the intrusion. “Oh um, this is a uh private tour,” a nervous, placating smile tries to shoo away the couple. It doesn’t work, neither does his, “Terribly sorry for the confusion.”

Typically on their trips people come up to them because they are Avengers, but Wanda doesn’t detect the same motivation from the couple, neither seeming to actually recognize them. The husband appears a bit concerned about Vision’s appearance while the wife assumes it is for show, “Oh well, you just seem dressed the part, you little devil,” Wanda tries not to laugh, something Tommy fails at, chuckling at the way the comment wilts his father further. Whoever this woman is ignores the reaction, soldiering on ahead as if it is her job to get what she wants. “And you are giving this beautiful family such a lovely tour. We’d love to join in.”

Vision weighs his response, eyes first surveying the very clearly matching sweatshirts they are wearing, this year’s travel theme the Maximoff Bunch. Each of them has a navy sweatshirt with Cambria font declaring their role-- Vision’s sweatshirt (that is real clothing, not molecularly manipulated so that he has a keepsake from their trip) is emblazoned with Papa-ya, their less than thrilled 10 year olds are sporting ones labeled Bil(ly)berry and Tommy-rillo, and Wanda’s deviates a bit with Mom-osa, Vision crushed to not find a fruit close enough to mom to complete the bunch. This should be enough to convince this woman that they are all a family and not a tour group...and yet she just keeps smiling sweetly at Vision until he gives in. “We’re happy to pay.”

Now Vision turns towards Wanda, searching for a response or a rescue. She doesn’t get a chance to help, Tommy speaking up first, “Fifty a person fair?”

“Thomas I do not-”

“Completely fair.”

The glare from Vision assures their son that they are going to talk about this on the ride home, Tommy’s impulsivity almost always at odds with Vision’s desire for control and planning.

Vision turns towards the couple, hands clasped tightly in a sign that another apology is on it’s way but it is stopped by Billy recentering their attention to what is most important. “How can Agatha be so old?”

Faced with numerous smiling and eager faces, Vision seems to accept his newfound role with a deep, soundless sigh, “Well, she is a very powerful witch, one who even survived the Salem Witch Trials.”

“No way!”

“Very much so. Let us return to 10,500 BC first.” Now that he is free to regale them with history, albeit seasoned with a heaping amount of occult, Vision finds his element. They learn about how Agatha came to be in Salem, about the Witch House and the judge who dwelled there, of the frenzy that occurred in people pointing fingers at anyone who was suspicious or merely disliked. The boys are enraptured listening to the tales of injustice and prejudice and, as they move from the Witch House to the hill on which many witches were burned at the stake, their little tour group increases in size, a trail of eight people joining on.

Surprisingly her husband takes it all in stride, welcoming each new person and asking their name. What really seems to excite Vision is when their crew asks questions. One of the newbies stops him during his soliloquy on what behaviors were deemed witchy. “Is it true that witches danced naked?”

Vision’s charm is on full display, lips cocked to the side as he shakes his head at the idiocy of the past, “Merely a salacious rumor because titillation is more convincing than honesty.”

A voice from the back of the group declares, “That’s because history is written by lonely men.”

Without missing a beat, her husband nods appreciatively at the running commentary from this particular guest, “A very astute observation, Taiyah, yet again. Now let’s turn our attention back to the Court of Oyer and Terminer.”

As the tour keeps moving through the harrowed landmarks, Billy is at the front, always just to the side of Vision, soaking in every word of information. Tommy, on the other hand, oscillates between the front and the back, eventually deciding to stick with Wanda. “This is starting to get a bit lame.”

“Your father and brother are having fun.”

His annoyed sigh seeks companionship, which she won’t give because she’s enjoying herself as well. “It’s just so much talking.” It is more than Tommy is ever willing to listen to, his mind and body always seconds, if not hours, ahead of them all. “Where’s the excitement?”

Sweeping the environment is a key aspect of missions and right now Wanda has assessed that the majority of the group are crowded around a tree, listening to the story of how Agatha supported parts of the trials out of a need to cull the weaker witches and remove her competition, it is a dark aspect of the tour, barely a sound existing to interfere with Vision’s explanation of the witch’s intentions. “Watch this.” Tommy stares at Wanda as she lifts her hand, scarlet undulating around her fingers, and then she flicks a finger, the tree trembling mightily despite no breeze to speak of. Several people gasp, one woman screams, and instantly Vision locks eyes with her, not one to ever be deceived by her influence. She expects irritation at disrupting his story, but instead there’s a little spark of mischief in his swirling irises, an almost imperceptible uptick to the left corner of his mouth that takes all her energy not to go and enjoy.

“Don’t you all tell us not to do that?” Tommy’s voice is bated, eager to figure out if their limits on use of powers in public is about to be lessened.

“No one goes on a witch tour without hoping for a little bit of magic.” The shit eating grin on his face is almost a perfect replica of Pietro’s and one she can’t help but mirror. “Just watch and learn.”

***

By the time they reach the Witch Village, the agreed upon conclusion of their tour, Vision can’t get a word in edgewise, the entire group riled up, swapping observations of the branches that moved without wind, the sense of dread that engulfed their minds at the guilty verdict of Agatha, or the heat they felt when the pyre was verbally lit. It’s this sense of awe that makes not a single person listen to Vision’s insistent, “Sorry, please, I do not want your money. Please, keep it for yourselves.” Instead of listening to him, everyone shoves their payment into the cup that Tommy so helpfully procured from the concession stand nearby.

Once all the people are gone, it is just the Maximoffs once again. “Was that sufficient in witches?”

Billy’s enthusiastic nods sends his hair bobbing with glee. “So awesome.”

“I have a question,” this comes from Tommy, who has already bought an ice cream cone with their earnings, the swirl of chocolate and vanilla towering up from his fist, “would we have been considered witches back then?”

“Well,” Vision’s arm snakes around her waist, pulling her until their hips are touching, the pride in his voice wrapping her even more snugly with his affection, “your mother already is a stunning one.”

“Gross.”

“And I no doubt would be viewed as inherently supernatural and thus evil,” something that is said with levity instead of the usual depths of despair that accompanies Vision’s grapple with humanity. “The two of you would also be suspect, simply from your parentage but also, well-”

“So the answer is yes?” Vision concedes with a nod. “Great, wanna go take a picture in the arm thingies over there?” They follow the ice cream cone as it points them towards a small square where people are taking turns putting their heads and hands through the holes.

“That would be a pillory,” Vision helpfully defines, but neither of their sons are listening, having already taken off to join the line for the photo op.

Wanda takes their brief solitude to encircle his waist with her arm, squeezing him tight and kissing his shoulder. “You have fun?”

His arm moves to rest along her shoulders, “Surprisingly yes, it was a bit exhilarating to have a truly captive audience.”

Wanda hugs him tighter, “Good.” Billy and Tommy wave them over, only ten people now ahead of them in line. They look so carefree, jostling each other with whatever it is they are bickering about now, their happiness with the day unashamedly stitched into every movement. Given who they are, Wanda is glad they are alive now and not during a time of greater hatred. Which brings her mind back to the woman who made the tripa success. “Vizh?”

“Hmm?”

“When do you think we should let them meet Agatha?”

They stop, Vision sometimes unable to think and walk at the same time, and the toil in his mind is palpable even without her powers. “I believe,” he too takes in their sons, a fluttering smile on his lips the longer he stares, “it might be best she remains a story for a little bit longer.”

#vision #wanda maximoff #scarlet vision #wandavision #billy kaplan #tommy shepherd #the maximoffs #ask anon #replies #mine

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jedimasterbailey · 3 years

Text

Sneak Preview of Chapter 8 of “The Padawans”

Ahsoka overhears what Sidious intends to do with Barriss and needless to say, it doesn’t sit well with her.

Link to full fic below!

Darth Sidious disembarks his personal shuttle with his most trusted Imperial guards leading the way to Riyo Chuchi’s palace. The Fifth Brother and the Seventh Sister walk silently beside their Emperor, both perplexed as to why they were accompanying the Sith Lord. For they had both failed miserably at keeping Barriss Offee in their custody by allowing the Mirialan escape with Ahsoka Tano, another wanted Jedi. Their punishment was one neither would ever forget. They had been electrocuted by Sidious’s lightning repeatedly until their flesh began to burn. As a result, the Seventh Sister now relied on a vocabulator to speak, her vocal cords having been damaged beyond repair and the Fifth Brother wore more armor to cover the raw skin that has yet to heal. Failure was no longer an option for the duo if they valued their lives.

Just before they were greeted by the Pantoran Senatorial guard, Sidious addresses the Inquisitors with their next assignment in a low voice.

“There is a Jedi here. It appears Senator Chuchi has set a trap for me to spring. Find this Jedi and hold him or her for questioning while I deal with our host. There is a chance it could be the very one you fools have lost. Do not fail me again!”

“Yes, my Lord.” The Inquisitors simultaneously say before stepping aside.

The Seventh Sister then calls for one of her probe droids using a remote on her wrist. Within seconds, the requested droid flew out of the Emperor’s ship and perched itself on it’s mistress’s shoulders ready for orders.

“Search the area and see if you can pick up another lifeform that isn’t the Senator or her staff. Apparently she thinks she can hide a Jedi from us.” The Seventh Sister orders in her new distorted voice.

The probe droid immediately begins to work as it flew from the Inquisitor's shoulder the minute she uttered the word “Jedi”.

______________________________________________________________________

Sensing Palaptine’s presence getting closer to the palace, Ahsoka conceals her own Force signature and takes shelter in the palace’s ventilation system following Riyo’s footsteps underneath. Ahsoka could feel Riyo’s fear and anxiety building which worried her deeply. From what the Togruta has seen based on Imperial propaganda in the worlds she’s traveled to, Palpatine was certainly frightening and intimidating, but he was also portrayed to be the same noble leader as he was before the Empire. Was Riyo fearful for her life? Or was she just unsettled by the change of plans?

Ahsoka leaned on the latter knowing they had yet to discuss their plan on how to deal with the Emperor with the subject of Barriss having been a distraction. Despite knowing Riyo’s intention and motivation, Ahsoka was still set on persuading her friend to think of another solution. If there’s one thing Ahsoka was sure of, it was that taking a life, no matter what the reason was, was an act that could never be erased from one’s consciousness. Barriss’s words and facial expressions on the matter has proven that. She did not want that same fate for Riyo. There had to be another way.

Ahsoka’s breath hitched in her throat seeing Palpatine approach Riyo. The man was obviously a Sith Lord in the eyes of a Jedi, but to someone like Riyo, he was deformed old man with an unnatural eye color. Ahsoka concentrates hard on suppressing her hatred for the man for the sake of staying hidden. If Palpatine was able to orchestrate an entire galactic war without consequence, then Ahsoka knew better to underestimate his abilities on detecting the slightest change in the atmosphere.

Riyo, now properly dressed in formal attire, bows to Palpatine.

“Emperor Palpatine, it is an honor to have you in my home. Though you are here earlier than expected.”

Palpatine gives a false smile, “Yes, Senator. Your invitation admittedly piqued my interest and I could not wait to meet. It isn’t everyday I have an excuse to leave Coruscant.”

Riyo reciprocates the gesture.

“Then we should waste no time then. Allow me to show you to my office.”

Ahsoka quietly follows the crowd above, going as far as to hold one lightsaber in with one hand and the other with her teeth to prevent any noise. The situation was too delicate for there to be any mistakes. To her surprise, Ahsoka hears Palpatine dismiss his red cloaked guards outside the office, leaving him alone with Riyo.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Riyo says calmly, taking her usual seat, “I could have someone fetch us some refreshments if you’d like?”

“That would be lovely, my dear.” Palpatine accepts, sitting down.

After Riyo informs someone of her staff of the Emperor’s request, the secret Sith Lord immediately brings up the very subject he knew disturbed Pantoran.

“I take it that you are displeased with what has become of the Talz?”

“Forgive me your grace, but I must admit that their extermination was unnecessary. They were no harm to anyone and it’s because of their extinction that my people have become more fearful of the Empire. The increased number of Stromtroopers in our cities and towns enforcing curfews and inciting violence deeply concerns me as someone who is supposed to be protecting them. That’s why I wanted to negotiate as to how the Empire can improve its relations with Pantora.” Riyo says with the same amount of sophistication and grace as Padme once did in the Senate.

Feigning a look of confusion, Palpatine folds his hands, “I’m sorry my dear, but I must disagree with the notion that the presence of my Stormtroopers or the extinction of the Talz are of any harm to your people. The troopers are there to maintain the peace and order the Republic failed to accomplish.These men are instructed to detain any rebels who dare to disturb the peace. You know as well as I do that we as a galaxy are still recovering the Clone wars; we cannot run the risk of having individuals rise against the stability we have created. Don’t forget that it was Count Dooku, a political anarchist, who started all the fighting that the Jedi enabled. Surely you and your people have not forgotten what a dark time that was!”

Riyo shakes her head, “Of course not, your Excellency. I, like the late Senator Amidala, were one of the few who voted against the fighting.”

“Yes, I remember.” Palpatine sighs, now appearing to look mournful, “May she rest in peace, Amidala. I miss her immensely. I’d like to think that she would have been proud of the new order.”

From above, Ahsoka grimaces at Palpatine’s words as they couldn’t be further from the truth. Padme would undoubtedly be leading the Rebel alliance if she were still alive.

“That still does not explain why the Talz needed to be killed.” Riyo argues coolly.

A servant then entered the room with a tray of tea and assortment of Pantoran delicacies, temporarily stopping Palpatine from answering. It was only after the two gave their thanks and had the room back to themselves that the Emperor was able to give the answer both Ahsoka and Riyo knew to be a lie.

“I never ordered for the Talz to be terminated.” Palpatine says steadily maintaining direct eye contact with Riyo, “I only deployed a squadron of my people to set up a base on the moon given how suitable the environment would be for training purposes. My best guess is that the Talz attacked my troops and thus they were left with no other choice. I can understand how hard this all must be to hear knowing you were the one to establish peaceful relations. But you and I have no control as to how they respond to their new superiors. As I’ve said before, there is no room for hostility against the Empire.”

There was a moment of silence between the politicians allowing Ahsoka to digest Palpatine’s words. The answers to all of Riyo’s questions have been contradictory and infuriating. Anakin and Obi-wan had once told her that the Talz were welcoming and receptive to negotiation. A small part of Ahsoka wanted to hop back into her ship and destroy the “training camp” that was surely constructed over the bodies of the dead tribe. But Ahsoka knew better; Riyo was depending on her to not draw attention.

“That is...very unfortunate to hear.” Riyo professes sadly, bowing her head.

“Indeed.” Palpatine sighs before continuing, “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that is not all of the bad news I have to share.”

Raising her head back up Riyo asks, “What is it?”

“There is a Jedi here.” Palpatine confesses, causing Ahsoka’s heart to leap into her throat.

Riyo’s eyes widen, “A Jedi? But how? I thought they were all dead?”

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” Ahsoka screams internally to herself, taking her lightsaber hilt out of her mouth in order to suppress the sound of her now heavy breathing. She was at a loss as to how Palpatine could know this despite having hid her ship and temporarily cutting her connection off from the Force. Ahsoka then reminded herself of something she knew to be true about the ways of the Sith; their order was rooted in deception.

“Maybe this is just an excuse for him to watch Riyo.”

The possibility brought some comfort for Ahsoka, but now any future communication with Riyo would be next to impossible between Palpatine and the Inquisitors he most likely brought with him.

“If only that were true, but alas there are still many survivors out there not to mention all the younglings that are born with such powers. But not to worry, I have two of my Jedi hunters here looking for him or her. Rest assured, I will not be leaving until the Jedi has been brought to justice. I wouldn’t feel comfortable returning to Coruscant knowing a dangerous traitor roams free on your planet. Despite what you may think of me Senator Chuchi, I really do keep your best interest at heart.” Palpatine affirms with another smile.

Even from a distance, Ahsoka could clearly see how uncomfortable Riyo looked, “Do you have an idea on who it may be?”

“To be perfectly honest with you Senator, I am not sure. However, there is an individual I am hoping to find here.” Palpatine admits causing Riyo to lean forward on her desk.

“And who would that be?”

“Barriss Offee.” Palpatine answers ensuing a fresh wave of panic to arise inside Ahsoka.

With a pained expression on her face, Riyo asks, “You mean the girl who bombed the Jedi Temple and escaped prison?”

“Precisely.”

“Why her specifically?”

To Ahsoka’s horror, Palpatine laughs, “Well aren't you a curious girl! Unless you’re aware of Ms. Offee’s whereabouts and are hiding her from me?”

Riyo rapidly shakes her head, “Of course not! Barriss is just an interesting choice given what she has done. It would make more sense for someone like her to hide in some remote world far from the Core worlds. A Mirialan would be very easy to spot on Pantora!”

Palaptine raises a hand, “Ms. Offee is not to be underestimated Senator Chuchi. I know Barriss to be an incredibly powerful and intelligent warrior. We both may not agree with her crimes, but her speech on the Republic and the Jedi’s involvement in the war rung with truth. She saw the future we were all blind to and for that, I’m hoping I could extend a peace offering to her. Her skills would actually become a great asset to the Empire.”

“The Jedi failed her and pushed her to do what she did, but I know I could help her. I could give her the love and attention she was denied. Perhaps she could succeed me in becoming Empress one day.”

Ahsoka bared her fangs as her blood began to boil at what Palpatine’s intentions were for Barriss. Everything Bail had told her after the events of the trail now made sense. Palpatine was hoping Barriss’s anger would fester into a hatred he could manipulate between denying Master Luminara’s visitation rights and removing the death penalty. The idea of Barriss becoming a Sith apprentice nauseated Ahsoka to the point where she was afraid she would vomit in the vent.

Not wanting to hear another word, Ahsoka knew she needed to get out and run far away from the palace. She needed to unleash her anger and her sadness before it got the better of her and made itself known to the Sith Lord. Ahsoka quickly grabs her lightsabers and navigates her way to Riyo’s bedroom where she knew she could escape without being seen.

The journey proved itself to be a challenge for Ahsoka as her emotions were quickly turning into hysteria. Her heart was hammering against her chest so hard that she felt she couldn’t breathe. Tears also began to stream down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Ahsoka had not felt this kind of visceral reaction since her days of hiding on Thabeska after the events of Order 66.

Back then, Ahsoka understood fully why the phenomena would happen; she knew she was stressed about Anakin's whereabouts and she knew she was grieving the fact that she had to fight and bury the 501st alone, with Rex being the only survivor. Now, Ahsoka wasn’t entirely sure why she was reacting this way.

Knowing about Palpatine’s insidious plan for Barriss was upsetting, but was there something more to it, and the only way to find that out was to be as far away from Palpatine as possible.

Ahsoka was beginning to see stars when at last she saw her way out. She quickly punches the vent open and hops out of the opening, gasping for air. Taking a few steps back, Ahsoka then sprints out of the room and leaps over the balcony, dropping several meters down to the ground below. Upon landing, Ahsoka proceeds to run away from the palace and out into the open marshes, completely unaware of the probe droid that had spotted her and was now alerting its master.

#ahsoka tano #barriss offee #barrisoka #barrissoka #star wars fanfiction

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thesculptedflower · 4 years

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Blue Velvet / Chapter 6

Chapter 6

’’Are you okay?’’

Ed was now wide awake, all his attention on making sure Y/N was unharmed. Both physically and mentally. He searched her face for answers, trying to see behind the wall she had built around her. Y/N’s eyes were watering, but he saw how badly she tried to hold the tears from falling. His heart was aching for her.

’’An intruder broke in to the manor, a gang member from Street Demonz.’’ She explained quietly, watching her hands that were intertwined with Ed’s. He drew small circles on her skin with his thumb. Recalling the events of the last hours got more painful with every word, the tears threatening to escape.

’’He came in so quietly, killed all Oswald’s guards. I guess he was looking for me, but I was hiding in the bathroom. When Oswald wouldn’t tell him where I was, he took my violin and,’’ A tear fell down her cheek. Ed noticed it immediately, his eyes never leaving her face. He lifted his other hand to place it on her cheek, wiping away the tear. She leaned softly to his hand.

’’and he tossed it to the fireplace.’’

’’I’m so sorry.’’ Ed whispered, pulling her to his lap so he could hold her closer for the rest of the story. He held her head against his shoulder, slowly brushing his fingers trough her hair to help her calm down. Y/N leaned fully into his embrace, holding her hands against his chest.

’’I was so angry. He was smiling like a maniac and I just couldn’t stop myself.’’ She continued. Ed could feel tears dropping to his shoulder.

’’So I got out from the bathroom and shot him. Before that he called me a babe and a bitch and Oswald tried to stop me but I didn’t want to stop and I just wanted to kill him and -.’’ All the emotions were getting to her, making her speech fall all over the place. Ed moved her head to look at her.

’’Hey, it’s okay. He deserved it. No need to feel bad about it.’’ He said, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. Her eyes were red from crying, but she didn’t look sad. Ed’s brown eyes radiated hope, hope for her to get better from this. To be the best version of herself after this.

’’I’m not crying because I feel bad. I’m just scared.’’ She whispered, eyes glued to his. Ed lifted his eyebrows a little, not yet understanding what she meant.

’’I’m scared, because it felt good.’’

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

They woke up in each others arms in the next morning. Her head on his shoulder, his arms around her. Sunlight lit Ed’s cozy apartment beautifully. Y/N felt like she was finally home. Events of last night still seemed like a nightmare, but she felt better. Ed didn’t turn her down, instead he embraced her. He was proud of her for standing up for herself, and for Oswald. And even if he didn’t dare to say it yet, he was excited about this new version of her.

A text message broke the comfortable silence.

’’Morning beautiful.’’ Ed said sleepily, pressing a soft kiss on top of her head. ’’How are you feeling?’’ Y/N rose to lean on her elbow, so she could look at him. Her other hand rested on Ed’s chest. ’’I think I’m better. Being here with you helps.’’ She smiled. It felt amazing to be like this with him, without the constant fear of getting caught.

Ed reached for his phone to check the message. ’’It’s Oswald, he’s asking me to get over there asap.’’

And then she remembered what Oswald had told her. How he had fallen in love with Ed. Ed could see the change in her expression. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling one of Ed’s shirts on. It was big enough to almost cover her bottom.

’’What’s wrong? Did you remember something?’’ Ed asked, sitting up on the bed, concerned about the sudden change in her demeanor.

Y/N ran her hands through her hair and sighed. She had to tell him.

’’Oswald loves you.’’

’’What?’’

’’He told me last night, before everything went to shit.’’

Y/N got up from the bed, now pacing around the room, biting her nails. Ed got up after her, stopping her to face him.

’’Even if he does, it doesn’t matter. I love you.’’ It was the first time he said it to her. And she felt so happy, and so sad at the same time. ’’I love you too.’’ She said back, pressing herself against him. ’’But how can we ever tell him? It’ll break him.’’

Ed knew it too, Oswald wasn’t going to react well. When he wanted something, there wasn’t much that could change his mind. All three of them cared so deeply for each other, though Y/N and Ed in secret.

They decided to keep their love hidden for a bit longer, until Oswald’s campaign was over.

’’I should get over there, before he comes looking for me.’’ Ed said, brushing a strain of hair behind her ear. ’’You can stay here as long as you like.’’

Y/N pulled him closer to press a loving kiss on his lips, which he returned eagerly. ’’Or, you could text him that you’ll be there in an hour.’’ She said, looking up at him under her lashes and running a finger down his chest. She rose up to her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

’’Take a shower with me.’’

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

On the days when Oswald and Ed were too busy with the campaign, Y/N would spend her time with Victor, on the shooting range. And boy, she was good.

’’I don’t know if I should be impressed or scared.’’ Victor said, amused after another round of perfect shots. Y/N smiled widely, clearly pleased with her skills.

’’I want to be able to protect myself. And maybe do some other stuff.’’ She replied carefully, hoping that Victor would pick up the hint. He crossed his arms to his chest and smiled playfully. ’’You want to rob something?’’

She nodded eagerly, biting her lip softly. She knew how to steal little things here and there, but she was craving for more.

’’Say, Victor, do you like weddings?’’

‘’Depends, am I marrying you?’’

‘’No you idiot, lets crash one.’’

The following days went in a blur and the election was getting closer and closer. Oswald was a nervous wreck for most of the time, fearing that the people of Gotham wouldn’t vote for him. He was even ready to fabricate the results by having Mr. Penn manipulate the votes, but Ed managed to talk him out of it. Which showed how much he trusted Ed, how much he actually listened to his advice. How much he loved him.

Y/N had returned to the manor, and Oswald was finally able to breath a little better, knowing she was safe. She promised him that she was okay, better than okay even. Oswald knew her well enough to see how the night had changed her. She carried herself with more attitude, more powerfully. And he liked it, he could see her maybe becoming one of his partners in the future. All that time spent with Victor, on the range and on his jobs had molded her into a totally new person. And she loved it. The sad street musician who needed a personal bodyguard was long gone, and on her place was this strong woman who didn’t take anyone’s bullshit. Victor had even given her one of his guns, which she wore on a holster on her thigh. Oswald stayed far from committing any crimes while he’s campaign was still going, so he’d send her and Victor to handle any troubles that were coming his way. He even thought they were sleeping together, from Victor’s gun on her thigh, he wouldn’t give it to anyone. And Ed hated it. He wanted to show her off so badly, to be seen with her.

And then came the night of the election. They all came together to wait for the results at Oswald’s manor. The mood was excited, everyone chatting around and enjoying the drinks and snacks that Olga had prepared. The manor was guarded all around, Oswald was nervous enough about the results, and he wanted to be sure that there wouldn’t be any disturbance tonight.

’’You need to calm down, I’m sure you’ll win.’’ Y/N said happily, trying to ease Oswald’s nerves. From time to time, her eyes would find Ed’s from the crowd and he would already be staring at her.

’’How can you be so sure? Everyone hates me, I’m a freak and a-.’’ Oswald said before being interrupted by Ed’s loud voice.

’’The results are in!’’ He informed, taking his place in front of the crowd. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for Ed to announce the results.

’’The new mayor of Gotham is… Mr. Oswald Cobblepot!’’

Everyone erupted in cheers and hurried to congratulate the new mayor. Oswald was beaming from happiness. He was so sure, he would lose. But Ed was right, the people did love him. He could only hope, that Ed would be one of those people.

’’See, it all worked out.’’ Y/N said, giving Oswald a hug. She felt so happy for him, but at the same time she was scared. Now that the election was over, they’d have to tell him about the relationship.

She excused herself and left for the kitchen to make herself another drink. All the counters were filled with different kind of bottles, some worth more than basic cars. Quietly humming a song, she made herself a mojito, when she was surprised by a very pleasant voice.

’’Miss L/N, I hope you’re enjoying your evening.’’ Ed almost purred, leaning back against the counter next to her, his hat hooding his dark eyes. Y/N smiled mischievously, garnishing her drink with mint leaves. ’’I am, very much so, Mr. Nygma.’’ She replied with the same flirtatious energy. It was dangerous for sure, but the alcohol in both of their veins made them a little frisky. Playing like they didn’t know each other that well, added something they both liked to this game, it made them almost invisible, while being in plain sight.

’’Might I add, you’re looking ravishing tonight.’’ He kept going, edging closer to her, eyeing her body from head to toe. She was wearing a gorgeous, sparkling black cocktail dress that hugged her body just right. A soft blush rose to her cheeks. ’’Oh my, well thank you. You’re rather handsome yourself.’’ They were so spellbound in each other, they didn’t notice that they were being watched. Oswald had noticed that the both of them had vanished, so he went to look for them. Unfortunately for him, he found them in the one place he most dreaded. Together.

’’Shared between two, most often to woo. Sometimes hot and sometimes cold. The beginning of us all, young and old. What am I?’’ Ed riddled, brushing his gloved thumb over Y/N’s lower lip. Y/N lifted her hands to his chest, pretending to fix his tie and pulled him down to a passionate kiss. While Ed’s arms snaked around Y/N’s waist and her hands found his neck, Oswald’s heart broke.

#you're all gonna hate me for this #it's gonna be alright #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #the riddler x reader #oswald cobblepot x reader #the riddler #the riddler x you #the riddler x y/n #edward nygma x you #edward nygma x y/n #Oswald Cobblepot #fanfic #fanfiction #Gotham #gotham series #gotham imagine

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enchanted-prose · 4 years

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#8 Just a Day in the Life

100th post = returning from teeny tiny hiatus! Special thank you to my darling editor, and @ piratekingimogen for screaming about the lack of Jarogen fluff in the fandom with me!

Word count: 5,295

Characters: Jaron, Princess Amarinda, Feall (Original Character), King Oberson (Original Character), Harlowe, Imogen

Notes: Expect a few fluffy fics hurtling towards you, please consult your dentist if you develop cavities bc it’s too sweet and it happened to me. Edited

Enjoy!

Jaron drummed his fingers against his right leg.

The leg he'd broken.

Sometimes he touched it to make sure that it was still healed. Even though it had been years since he'd gotten the injury, he still had trouble realizing that he was alright.

He wasn't broken.

Lord Feall and King Oberson were seated in front of him, separated by Jaron's large desk. Both men were silent. Both were unable to look at Jaron for very long.

In a way, Jaron enjoyed watching them squirm, they'd crossed a line by not telling him about Queen Danika's missing investigators sooner.

Was this how Mott felt each time Jaron did something he wasn't supposed to and got himself caught?

"Your Majesty, we-," Oberson began, but he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"We'll discuss the situation when the ambassador arrives," said Jaron.

However, Feall didn't agree with Jaron's declaration, it seemed. "If I must be honest, we don't even know the situation anymore."

"Lady Amarinda does, and we'll wait for her to come before we make any assumptions, Lord Feall. I'm a little disappointed, I thought we were friendly enough to discuss political matters."

Feall frowned, and didn't respond.

Boredom was turning Jaron's feet to stone. He hated being bored. There was too much to do and too much to see.

And it was raining still.

He promised Fink they'd go out and hunt for frogs to terrorize Roden with.

The door to Jaron's study creaked open, and in walked Amarinda in a wide-necked blue gown. Her hair was strung up in a golden net. There wasn't any sign of a frown on her face. She dipped her head in greeting when Jaron, Feall, and Oberson stood up.

"My lords," she smiled. "I've brought several papers with me if you'd much rather read my words rather than listen to what I have to say."

"Please, start from the beginning. Reading wastes time," Jaron waved his hand in a dismissing motion. He was joking, of course.

Oberson shrunk in his seat with his head in his hands, but aside from his posture, didn't voice any complaint about listening to Amarinda's debrief.

There were some people who could dominate their foes on the battlefield. Others could crush their enemies without shedding a drop of blood. They could outwit their opponents with words.

Amarinda was a battle master when it came to using words for weapons. She never degraded her opponents with crude words. Never compared people to dehumanizing objects. She recognized that while people didn't agree with her, they were still human beings.

This was how she guided her foes into a corner, their only option being to take her hand and join her cause.

Her goal was not to destroy. Her goal was to create, that's what Tobias claimed.

And he was right.

Amarinda created gateways for better ideals.

Jaron caught himself grinning as he prepared for what Amarinda had to say.

She clasped her hands behind her back. "Gentlemen, we share a home country. One we take pride in. We've given many privileges to those who prove themselves to be just servants of society, but unfortunately, there was an abuse of power several years ago. I know you are aware of what happened on Idunn Craich to Noble House Thay. Rumors were sparked and an entire family was executed without a proper trial.

"Though Their Majesties Queen Danika and King Norman don't condone chasing every rumor they hear, they've made an exception. They were informed that Mireldis Thay, who would've been a child during her house's execution, managed to escape into Carthya. Many of the most skilled researchers and investigators were sent to Carthya to confirm these rumors. Their goal was to find evidence supporting Thay's innocence, and bring her home.They were stopped on their way here for several days, and during that time, I was informed that you King Oberson, went out of your way to visit them without informing the Carthyan Crown that they'd arrived," Amarinda held her head high, almost challenging Oberson to deny her claims.

He didn't, not couldn't he.

Many people had seen him ride out to meet with Danika's representatives.

A heavy pause hung over the air. Both Jaron and Amarinda were waiting for either men to try to deny her claims.

When they didn't speak, Jaron nodded. It was his turn to continue the conversation.

"Lord Feall, I was told by my captain of the guard that the investigators who were sent here were, in actuality, trying to find evidence against Thay, and that you were promoting the search in defiance of Queen Danika's orders, is this true?" Jaron kept his gaze steady, looking for any flaws in Feall's face that would betray him.

Another heavy pause.

Feall didn't squirm, and he looked at Jaron with a fierce, burning loyalty in his eyes. "King Jaron, I did request that the investigators search for evidence against Thay as well."

He fell silent.

Probably waiting for Jaron to condemn him.

However, Jaron was intrigued. He appreciated Feall's honesty. It was something that didn't come often within circles of power. Jaron motioned for Feall to continue.

"I felt a duty to ensure justice," Feall remained stoic. "While I do believe that Thay is innocent, I don't agree with only playing one side. Without considering if House Thay was really guilty, it is possible that Queen Danika's quest for reparations will bring disaster upon Bymar. Thay would likely take revenge, and as a servant to my country and to yours, I will not allow that to happen."

Amarinda's face darkened, but only for a moment. If Jaron hadn't known her so well, he would've missed her momentary weakness.

Though he wanted to support his friend, Jaron couldn't deny that Feall had a perfectly good point.

People weren't black and white.

Too much mystery shrouded what happened with House Thay.

"Do you have any reason to believe that Thay would cause harm?" asked Jaron as he tapped his chin.

Perhaps he should grow a small beard. People might take him more seriously if he stroked his beard each time he was about to say something. Many regents tried to do that, usually it was right before they did their best to be an advisor to Jaron.

If you were going to act the part, you needed to look the part.

To Jaron's surprise, it was Oberson who answered the question, and not Feall. The portly king withdrew a letter from within his coat. "The seal belongs to Thay, and you- and you can read what she wrote yourself. It was sent to me, but it- but it is clearly directed at Lord Feall."

Jaron beckoned for the letter.

The words had been written in jet black ink, and the paper was much cleaner than Jaron would've expected. The curling letters obviously belonged to a woman.

Several words had been misspelled:

King Obrson, I understand you've travelled with lord Feall. you know how much he owes me, and I reqest that you give him to me. if you comply, I promise I wont bother you again. please understand my perspective on this, you know me, sir, you know my family

So, Feall did indeed have a good reason to think that Thay was guilty.

"What would you do with Thay if you found her?" Amarinda kept a calm demeanor.

"I would return her to Queen Danika," Feall explained "Unless, however, she attacks me outright. In which case I would have jurisdiction to decide her fate. An eye for an eye."

"Those laws may work in Bymar, but that's not how we do things here."

"Then, by all means, my lady, I would try to go through with Carthya's judicial process."

Unlike other countries, Jaron didn't enjoy upholding the notion that for every crime committed, you could commit the same in return. Instead, he'd tried to emulate Mendenwal's way of enforcing justice: a vote by a body of people. Typically, two options were given, usually suggested by those who'd been the victim of the crime and the other given by the king.

Death penalties for crimes had to be completely unanimous.

"Do you think that Thay is trying to attack you still?" Amarinda asked, her hands clasped behind her back once again.

Both Feall and Oberson nodded.

"Which explains why he's looking for the Faola," nodded Jaron.

"Captain Harlowe informed me that the Faola only began traipsing through Carthya a few days before King Oberson and I arrived."

"This doesn't excuse the fact that you didn't tell us that you lied to me and Lady Amarinda about Queen Danika's representatives."

"And I humbly apologize for that," Feall held his hand over his heart. "If there is a way for me to prove my regret, tell me, and I will do so."

If he and Feall had been better friends, Jaron would've made a joke about the only way to prove his loyalty was by cleaning Jaron's feet, but he doubted the offer would go over well.

Jaron looked to Amarinda, wondering if she had anything in mind.

She only frowned ever so slightly.

There were many ways that Jaron could force Feall to prove his loyalty. Cruel and humiliating ways. Feall had to have known that. He had to have known the depth of his words.

He'd quite literally given Jaron power over him.

But Jaron didn't enjoy watching people endure humiliation of any sorts. He didn't think that proving loyalty should come at the expense of anyone's dignity.

A clever idea crossed Jaron's mind.

"I'd like you to continue helping Captain Harlowe in patrolling the streets of Drylliad," began Jaron, carefully masking his cleverness. "But you must leave capturing the Faola to him, as well as my friend, Mott. You must trust us to take care of the situation, and that's how I'll know that I can continue to trust you."

Feall inhaled deeply, his brows furrowing together. "Sir, I can't, what you-. No, I mean yes. I will do as you ask, your Majesty."

"Take good care to tread lightly, Lord Feall, this test also represents King Oberson."

"What?" King Oberson burst, his chubby cheeks jiggling with his ferocious outcry. "You can't do this! I need Feall to protect me!"

"You have all of Carthya's guards to keep you safe, as well as your own," Amarinda pointed out.

Several more spluttering protests escaped through Oberson's plump mouth, but eventually, he realized that no amount of begging would get Jaron to change his mind.

A victory, in a way.

Jaron was getting another capable military leader to ensure safety in his city, he'd done his best to uphold justice, and he managed to gain a better understanding about the Thay dilemma.

Unfortunately, however, he also recognized that he probably wouldn't ever understand what happened on Idunn Craich.

But perhaps Avenia's king, Kippenger, might know a little bit.

He hadn't been to Avenia in ages, and was overdue for a visit to check in on the reforming nation. Jaron made a mental note to suggest a diplomatic mission to Sparling.

Everybody could use a little change of scenery.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to do, your majesty?" Feall asked, sitting as tall as he could in his chair.

"Yes, I'd quite like it if you gave me your desserts as well. Especially the fancier ones with the tiny decorations." Jaron frowned when Amarinda snorted, as he was being completely serious.

A tiny smile flickered across Feall's face. "If that is what you wish, your Majesty."

"It is what I wish, actually."

"Then I solemnly swear to do all that I can to ensure that your wish is fulfilled. When would you like me to begin patrolling the streets? Would you prefer me to ask Captain Harlowe my questions, or would you like me to ask you?"

Ah, Jaron hadn't thought of any questions that might need answering.

"Go to Captain Harlowe," he said. "And if Captain Harlowe can't answer them, bring your questions to me. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir.”

Several days ago, Imogen’s new lady-in-waiting, Renlyn Karise, pointed out just how bland the great hall was. Of course, Jaron had taken down and sold many decorations on purpose, but Lady Renlyn’s various attempts to sell him exquisite imported decor were slowly growing on him.

No, he needed to use the royal purse to better the lives of his subjects first.

Beautification could come later.

When he settled into his throne and allowed for his first subject to come forward, Jaron fooled himself into thinking that court would be smooth and quick.

However, as he heard his forty-ninth claim about chickens, he realized that court was going to drag on into the next decade.

It was then that Jaron began wondering if he should heed Renlyn’s advice and have her decorate the great hall.

Maybe he’d have something more interesting to look at than whitewashed stone walls.

Jaron tapped his chin as he listened to complaint after complaint after complaint. He did his best to listen. Did his best to be a good king, but his patience was running out.

“We have never had a dispute between property before,” said a man from outside the city walls. He was holding a chicken, and pointing at the other villager beside him ever so often. “Always got along, me an’ him, we never did fight. Respected his property, I did, an’ he respected mine. But one day a chicken wandered through both of our yards-”

The chicken holding villager’s friend cut in. “A chicken wandered through both a’ our yards an’ then laid an egg on the line between our two properties!”

“We didn’t really worry about it because we’ve both got our chickens. It wasn’t really worth our time.”

“And then the egg hatched, it did! An’ now we don’t know what to do wif it! It’s a good layer, we’ve been tradin’ off every couple a days, but that just doesn’t cut it! We need you to decide for us!” Finished the second villager, vehemently pointing at the chicken tucked under the first villager’s arm.

“Well, I suppose that answers an age old question. What came first, the chicken, or the egg?” Jaron mused, buying himself time through a joke.

Both villagers frowned.

By the Saints, he didn’t like explaining jokes, humor always lost when it needed to be explained.

"There's a riddle people tend to ask when they want to annoy somebody," Jaron explained, sitting forwards in his throne. "They ask what came first, the chicken? Or the egg? And in this case, it was the chicken who came first. Actually, I suppose even that chicken came from an egg. What a conundrum."

"But who gets the chicken?" Asked the second villager with a frown.

"Who cares for it more?"

Both men raised their hands, trying to jostle each other out of the way. The second villager raised his hand to smack the first villager across the back of his bald head.

The first villager only tucked the chicken into his chest and ducked.

No blows were given, the second villager wasn't stupid enough to start a fight in the throne room.

"I have a proposition," said Jaron. He knew it didn't really matter, as he was the king, but he tried to involve his subjects in decision making as much as he possibly could.

"We're listening, your Majesty." The second villager bowed until his nose brushed his boots.

On the other hand, the first villager only bowed as far as he could without risking dropping the chicken.

A slight smirk crossed Jaron's face. "How many eggs does the chicken lay each day?"

"One, like the other chickens," the second villager nodded. "I checked every morning while I housed the chicken."

"Actually she lays one egg on the first day of the week, one on the second day, but she lays two on the third day if she is fed scraps from the table instead a grain," the first villager said proudly, holding the fat hen up for everyone to see.

The hen gave a tiny cluck.

"It's worse than I thought," Jaron muttered, wishing he had Mott beside him to joke with.

"You- you haven't decided who gets the chicken?" The first villager stuttered. "But-"

"He's the king, you fool, he can take as much time as he wants."

Jaron tilted his head at the first villager, who was nervously petting the chicken he cradled.

He wanted to smile with somebody. Wanted to smile about the fact that somebody loved their chicken so much that they knew how many eggs she laid every day.

If he were a cruel king, Jaron would've called for the hen to go to the kitchens, only to declare that he wasn't being serious and give the hen back to her rightful owner.

But over time, he'd learned that some tricks and pranks weren't truly funny.

"I know what's best in this situation," Jaron declared, waving the two villagers away and motioning for the next petitioner to come forward. "The man holding the chicken the same way he'd hold his newborn son gets to give her a permanent home."

He ignored the complaints from the second villager as they were escorted out of the great hall.

The next petitioner was a young man, requesting that his father be taken out of debtor's prison. Jaron, who was prepared to fight with nobles over situations with people in debt, agreed on the premise that the young man return to inform them if there was another threat from debt-collectors.

Ah, Jaron did get quite the rise out of showing kindness when the nobles had none.

Court went much quicker after that. As he thought of the first villager happily carrying his hen home, Jaron grinned.

How somebody could love a chicken so much, he didn't know.

Late into the afternoon, Harlowe made his way into the great hall, much to Jaron's relief.

He stood and clasped Harlowe's weathered hand, unashamed of how big his smile had grown. "I'm hoping you came to relieve me of my duties."

"I have, actually," Harlowe said with a grin. "Today was much busier than anybody expected, and I didn't think it quite fair to keep you cooped up inside."

"On the contrary, I didn't mind being held up here for once. It's raining with enough fury to challenge the Devils."

"Ah, but you won't let that stop you from what you wish to do with your afternoon, I hope," chuckled Harlowe, his blue eyes sparkling with a glimmer of content.

"Absolutely not." Jaron couldn't hide his smile. "My bones are aching from sitting."

"I wish I could tell you that aching goes away, but it only gets worse. No, no, I tease."

Jaron couldn't resist. He threw his arms around Harlowe's neck in a sloppy embrace. "Thank you, thank you for coming to fill in."

Harlowe patted Jaron's shoulder. "As prime regent, it's my obligation to ensure that the king can handle his duties. And as someone who cares about you, it's my obligation to make sure you don't run yourself into the ground."

It was still odd. . .

Having multiple people care about his well being.

"I really appreciate it, Harlowe, and I mean it."

"Then go, my king." That sparkling contentment in Harlowe's eyes rivaled the lazy Roving River. "Your friends await you."

Was it wrong to take pride in what he’d managed to set up?

It had taken almost all afternoon, and required the help from not only Roden and Tobias, but from Jolly, Lady Renlyn, and Mott too.

In the end, it was perfect.

For several weeks, Jaron had been meaning to take Imogen away from the hustle and bustle of castle life. Although they weren’t in a position to leave for more than a day or two, they could manage to spare a night away from their duties.

And he’d finally done it.

“Don’t tell Imogen anything,” Jaron said firmly, trying his best to stare down Lady Renlyn Karise as they stood in one of the castle hallways.

It wasn’t easy.

Lady Renlyn was taller than him by a good inch.

“I promise I won’t tell,” Renlyn crossed her arms. “But be thankful, the queen isn’t always the type to enjoy a surprise.”

“See, people say that, but then get excited when they’re surprised.”

Renlyn only stared in response.

“Mad that I got you cornered?” No, no answer from that either. Jaron waved his hands in defeat. “You’re dismissed, I don’t need you and your disapproval.”

“Disapproval?” Renlyn arched an eyebrow.

“Yes! Disapproval, you’re not exactly subtle about it, Lady Karise.”

“Good, it means I’ve finally got my point across.”

“Aren’t you in a feisty mood today?” Jaron snickered, putting his hands on his hips.

He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he wanted from Renlyn. She was remaining completely placid. “This is how I always behave, my king.”

“Is not, you’re nicer to me.”

“On the contrary, I think I’m being nicer to you now.”

He’d known the Karises before.

From his days when his family was still alive.

Jaron hadn’t been the closest to Renlyn when they were children, it’s true. She’d rather mix various ingredients together to eliminate her least favorite dolls while Jaron would rather track dirt all over the place.

In a way, it also reflected the way they handled situations at court.

Renlyn wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done. Already the notorious gossipers of court were spreading their opinions on Renlyn’s ambition. She had but one fear: Recognition. Most of her opponents slipped away in the night, never to disturb her again.

Jaron would much rather stay away from gossipers and the like.

Made things less messy.

Unfortunately, Jaron didn’t get his retort spoken in time, as Renlyn walked away, taking the final say with her as she went to Imogen’s study.

Their exchange couldn’t bring Jaron down from the excitement searing through his veins.

Each step he took made him feel light, yet heavy. Time couldn’t pass fast enough. He was beginning to pace. To the wall. Back to where he’d stood. To the wall again. Back to where he stood. The pattern continued for what seemed like ages, but Jaron knew better than that.

The clock stationed by the door, a huge monster of wood and metal, chimed.

It was better that a few minutes passed rather than no minutes at all, Jaron reasoned.

And then Imogen quietly stepped into the room.

Dressed in a pale blue blouse with matching split skirts, Imogen couldn’t hide her smile. For a moment, Jaron suspected that Renlyn spilled the secret surprise waiting just outside the castle walls.

He offered an arm out to Imogen, escorting her through the great hall and out into the courtyard.

“I really hope there’s no crocodiles involved,” Imogen muttered as Jaron helped her into Mystic’s saddle.

Jaron cringed as comically as he could, and then swung into place right behind Imogen. “Well, ah, guess you’re not going to like what I have in store.”

Imogen’s laugh was worth all of the hassle Jaron had put into his special surprise.

The sun was barely dipping down below the horizon, throwing golden rays of light into the crisp air. A slight shimmer appeared on Imogen’s cheeks. Jaron pressed a kiss to her temple, her hair, her chin, anywhere he could reach.

She was giggling when she pushed his face away.

“Let me kiss you, silly girl,” Jaron hummed, only to once again be pushed away.

“Absolutely not, it’s embarrassing!”

“I want the entire kingdom to know how much I love my wife! It’s not embarrassing at all!”

“Yes it is!”

“No it’s not!”

“Get your filthy lips off my hair,” Imogen laughed. “I’m serious, Jaron! You’re going to run us into a-,” suppressed giggles prevented her from finishing her sentence.

“Last one, I promise.” True to his word, Jaron pressed one last kiss to Imogen’s temple, and pulled away.

Imogen leaned back against his chest. “Renlyn and I were discussing what to do with the trio of children Roden brought to us.”

“Please tell me you gave them new names.”

“We suggested it, but they didn’t seem to catch onto the idea.”

“What did you and Lady Renlyn decide? Are you going to ship them off?”

“Quite the contrary, actually,” Imogen was smiling, Jaron could hear it in her voice. “Renlyn took the subject to a business ally she has in court, and the children are to become wards here in court. We’ll be able to keep an eye on them.”

“I do love more company, maybe those three will take the spotlight off of my antics.”

“Very unlikely, but you can always hope that’ll happen.”

“Oh Imogen of such little faith.”

“Oh Jaron of such high energy.”

With a snicker, Jaron buried his face in her hair for a moment. “Copying my words now are you?”

“I suppose I am.”

“Imitation is the highest form of flattery.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Imogen countered. “Do you prefer that I copy everything you say? Is that what makes you happy?”

“Is that what makes me happy? No, it doesn’t.”

“Then what does?”

“Being with you.”

A blush spread across Jaron’s face despite the fact that he was the one saying silly flowering comments, not the one they were directed at.

He loved Imogen.

She was safe.

Without the company of guards, it was much easier to have a personal conversation.

Much easier for both Jaron and Imogen to just. . . be together.

“I, ah, I confronted Feall and King Oberson,” Jaron said over the sound of Mystic’s hooves on Drylliad’s cobblestone streets.

Imogen reached back, her hand trailing down the side of his face. “And what happened?”

The simple, shy gesture left warmth careening through his toes. Jaron tightened his arms around her waist. His heart pounded through his ribcage, but not with fear.

His heart pounded with pure, sunshine comfort.

Sunshine comfort that didn’t fade away with each new morning.

“I questioned them both, and made an offer to Feall. He trusts us to take care of the Faola, and I won’t expel him back to Bymar,” said Jaron. “I, ah, I’m playing this game for the long run.”

“As you should,” Imogen gestured to a group of ducklings swimming in the Roving River, then motioned for Jaron to continue.

He shrugged, “I plan on speaking with Kippenger.”

“Regarding House Thay?”

“Yes, but also no. Kippenger is my ally despite the history between us. I want to ensure his, and Avenia’s, success. I want to know if Carthya needs to send aid in any form, and if we need to, I fully intend to send the best.”

Kippenger was a new king.

There was no doubt that there were some Avenians who disagreed on Kippenger’s right to reign.

Revolution had to be brewing on their minds.

Imogen paused, connecting what Jaron said and what he was implying. “You need a backup in case you have to send Roden and military reinforcements to Avenia.”

“I don’t want to put Mott in any more danger than he puts himself in,” Jaron muttered. “Feall’s reputation is spotless. He wouldn’t be there for very long either, maybe a few weeks. And it’s-”

“Jaron, you don’t have to explain your choices. I trust your judgement.” Imogen said, but then she tilted her head, preparing to amend her statement. “I trust your judgement when it comes to people.”

“You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Though she didn’t say anything, Jaron could feel her quiet grin radiating through the air.

They rode in silence through the woods, waving at the few people they passed, and breathing in the sunset air.

And yet, despite the comfort, Jaron couldn’t fight the anxiety gnawing at his insides any longer.

What if Imogen didn’t like what he’d set out for her?

What if-

No.

If Lady Renlyn Karise, notorious stone-faced, heartless, ambitious businesswoman, liked what had been set out, Imogen certainly would.

The road curved left. Imogen only protested slightly when Jaron guided Mystic to continue straight.

“We, ah, I’m going to dismount,” Jaron stuttered. “But you can stay on, I’ll just guide Mystic.”

“I can walk,” Imogen insisted.

“If- ah, if you want to, I won’t stop you.”

He knew she’d enjoy the surprise, and yet, he was afraid.

Afraid that she wouldn’t-

No. Imogen was his wife. There was nothing to be scared of.

Nimbly, Jaron dismounted, and held out a hand for Imogen to do the same. He held Mystic’s reins with one hand, and entwined his fingers with Imogen’s with the other.

“Your palms are sweaty, Jaron. Are you alright?”

“I dipped them in the fountain before we came, they must not have dried.”

“You’re acting a little- oh.” Her face shifted from confusion, and then to shock.

Before them, Jaron had brought a ragged quilt he’d found in Tithio, boasting squares Imogen’s mother had made herself. Large pillows were scattered about in all shapes and sizes, some hidden behind additional blankets.

Plates of food rested on curling iron stands. A bucket of ice housed two large bottles of something sweet, Jaron hadn’t been able to decide what to take, so he relied on his head chef’s opinion. Candles on holders and stands were placed in clusters in strategic positions. Crystals hung from tree branches.

“I thought about bringing music, but I could only think of Jolly, and I didn’t want him eating everything I brought,” Jaron said sheepishly. “This- this,ah, isn’t all. I have-”

“I love it, Jaron, I absolutely love it,” Imogen was quiet, her fingers steepled together and resting against her nose.

“That’s not all, I, ah, there’s more to the surprise.”

Fink’s head poked out from one of the trees, but thankfully disappeared the second Jaron frantically shooed him away.

Imogen was still marvelling at the quilt. “This is perfect.”

Once again, Fink appeared.

Changing his plan, Jaron motioned for Fink to bring the final gift. The transaction happened in the knick of time, Fink was dashing back to the castle before Imogen looked up from the quilt squares.

Jaron held the package behind his back. “I, um, I couldn’t resist. I wanted to spend time with you. Just you, Imogen.”

“I really appreciate it,” her smile was tinged with a bright pink blush. “I don’t-, I don’t really know what to say.”

“This will probably make it worse, then.”

“Jaron? What are you-?”

He held out the package for Imogen to see.

In his hands, rested a cream colored cat with a bright pink bow hanging loosely from its neck. Imogen covered her face with her arm for a moment. When she finally looked at the kitten again, she was beaming.

“You got me a kitten,” she mumbled, covering her bright pink cheeks with her hands. “Is it mine?”

“If you want it, yes. And ‘it’ is a ‘she’, if that influences what her name is going to be,” Jaron said as he sat down beside Imogen, holding the small cat out to her.

“Where did you find her?”

Jaron didn’t mean for an instant scowl to ruin his smile. “Renlyn sold it to me.”

“Ah, I think I know why,” Imogen scratched the cat’s ears. “We were discussing different royal pets. Supposedly, there are specific cats you can train to listen to you.”

“I’m not quite sure how true that is, especially coming from Renlyn.”

“We’ll just have to find out.”

The tiny cat mewed, and tried to climb up Imogen’s blouse sleeve. She untied the ribbon, cradling the cat to herself.

Nothing in the world could’ve made Jaron feel the same way that Imogen’s smile did.

#okay I love jarogen don't yell at me #prince jaron #imogen #some people don't ship them and I don't blame them but that means its my duty to convince them that theyre wrong #the ascendance series #the ascendance trilogy #the false prince #fic friday #fic Friday except its a sunday

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ironstrange-is-the-endgame · 4 years

Note

For the fluff/general prompts: "Change in mind or change in heart" please :)

Once again Illuminati AU with the nice addition that I still know nothing about this series.

10. “change in mind or change in heart?”

Tony shook his head, looking at the raised hands in front of him. He was going to hate the outcome whatever that was going to be, and he was aware that this could go on forever. He really hoped that Blackbolt’s - or Charles’s he wasn’t sure that the mutant sometimes did just pretend to refer the King’s thoughts - idea to put it to votes was going to work.

It didn’t, of course. Three against three and whoever decided that six was some sort of magic number, well, was fucking wrong. Not that he expected something different. Every extremely important reunion between them ended like that. Or with Strange spiralling down in the countless possibilities and after having for the fourth time a full panicking Sorcerer Supreme on his sofa, Tony decided it was forbidden.

The man deserved better than being used as their personal window to the future. Not that he cared about Strange (he did, but that was a secret), he didn’t even like the man’s guts (he found him attractive and charming and wished for their exchanges to last longer than they usually did so he could know better the man behind the wizard), but still, that didn’t seem something someone would have liked to go through.

Again, not his business. They just had to come up with an agreement and everyone could have gone on their own merry way. But nope, Reeds, BlackBolt and Strange had to be a pain in the ass.

Tony ran a hand on his eyes, looking at the three of them. “It’s the only fucking way. I won’t look at the UN play Witches Haunt. Charles, he’s the one who should feel more attached, and yet, he’s agreeing.”

“Blak Bolt thinks they won’t stop to mutants on the Earth. Terregenesis is different from the X gene,” Xavier answered. “He can’t expose his people to something that shouldn’t and doesn’t concern their kind.”

“They won’t leave the Earth, just like they won’t search for the seas,” Namor replied, for the nth time. Tony had the clear impression that they were running in circles and he hated that. After that sentence, everyone started to yell their reasons back again to each other and Tony regretted the moment he accepted to be part of that pure excuse of a superior-team or whatever. He should have proposed Cap. He was better with diplomacy and the likes. Or to treat with assholes.

He turned the conversation off, trying to think about Peter’s position if that fucking mess went wrong. He wasn’t a Mutant, not in the more classical way of the term, but he had mutated DNA, and questions about Spider-Man would have started the exact moment the UN didn’t get what they wanted. He wasn’t paying attention, and that was the reason why he didn’t see Charles’s eyes ging from him to Strange. A moment later, the Sorcerer’s shaking hand lowered.

“Stark is right,” He said, in a whisper that sounded as defeat. Tony was glad, he really was. But he couldn’t help himself.

“Change in mind or change in heart?” He asked, a mockingly smirk clear on his face. It seemed like the exhaustion of all the people around them was palpable in the air.

“You are right.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tony protested.

“I know you, Stark,” Strange’s voice was still a whisper, but of a different kind, now. “The moment you go quiet it means that there’s something deeply troubling you. And I guess I know what it is, in this case.”

Tony’s brain didn’t register that they were alone until he turned to search in some of their teammates any signs that might suggest they understood Stephen’s words. “What?”

“Peter. I won’t let anything happen to the kid.”

“Change of heart, then,” Stephen nodded. Tony’s smile turned a little bit brighter and more sincere. “Thank you.”

“You should sleep.”

“Will you?” Tony had no idea of why he asked. But he already did, so it wasn’t like there was something he could do, by now. He couldn’t blame it on the autocorrect or saying he wrote in the wrong chat.

“Why do you care?”

“Why do you?”

“Because, contrary to popular belief, Dr is not my super-hero name, and you look exhausted.”

Tony laughed. “The understatement of the century, Doctor. My sofa is comfortable.”

“So, Charles is right... Don’t worry, I’d very much like to sleep on your couch, or wherever you’d like to sleep.”

Tony had no idea of what was going on but decided not to provoke his fortune further. “I thought you hated me.”

“I can change my mind.” And he winked at him. Tony decided that between all of Stephen’s looks, playfully was his favourite one. But he wasn’t going to think about it anywhere near Charles or the Doctor himself.

prompt list / asks

#ironstrange #strangeiron #tony stark #stephen strange #iron man #doctor strange #charles xavier #richard reeds #namor #blackbolt #professor x #mr fantastic #the illuminati #marvel #mcu #ellisper #asks

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years

Text

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 12 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 12

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings: Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

If you want to read more chapters, check out my Patreon!

Tommy snagged (Y/n) while Nikki went backstage with the others.

“Tommy, what are you doing?” (Y/n) asked.

“I am going to take you backstage to meet the guys!” he said and carried her on his shoulder. (Y/n) squealed as he took her backstage. “Hey fuckers, come out here and meet my baby sister!” Tommy yelled.

“Tommy, I’m not a baby.” (Y/n) told him.

“Ok Tommy hold on,” Nikki said as he took off his makeup. When he turned around he froze and his smile faltered a bit.

“Guys, this is my sister (Y/n) Bass!” Tommy said proudly. “I tried to get her to use Lee, but she’s happy with our last name.” (Y/n) smiled shyly at the three, trying not to look into Nikki’s eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” Nikki mumbled as he shook (Y/n)’s hand.

“Wow, you look nothing like Tommy, thank god.” Vince walked up to her and smiled. “Hi,” he flirted trying to get Nikki jealous.

“Hey dude, back off my sister.” Tommy laughed. “She’s off limits to all three of you fuckers. And I mean, Nikki’s got that girl he’s seeing anyway, but still.”

Nikki looked at (Y/n), “yeah ok Tommy.” Nikki took a breath. “Excuse me.” he left the room and out to the hallway.

“I’m gonna go get some air. It smells like man in here.” (Y/n) teased, leaving Tommy, Mick, and Vince alone. She headed out into the hallway, freezing when she saw Nikki. She thought about turning to head the other way, but he spotted her.

Rushing to her, he took her hand and pulled her away from the band. They reached the back alley and Nikki ran a hand across his hair.

“Nikki…” (Y/n) said softly.

“When were you going to tell me?” he asked.

“It never came up. I didn’t think about it.” She told him, watching him pace. She took a deep breath. “I don’t live at the dorm either. I still live at home. I didn’t want to tell you because I wanted you to not think of me as some nerdy kid.” She turned and started walking away.

”(Y/n) where are you going?” he sighed and looked at her.

“I’m going to find my sister and I’m going home!” (Y/n) told him. Nikki waited out there for a bit, smoking a bit before he headed inside.

Inside to where Athena and Vanessa still were, but not (Y/n).

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Nikki looked around for her and then back to them.

“Oh she left a while ago I thought.” Vince shrugged. “Why?” Nikki turned on his heels and ran down the hallway. “Nikki!” But Nikki didn’t hear him.

Nikki looked frantically around as searched for (Y/n). He could see her down the street. A man was following her. Nikki felt a rush of adrenalin as he pushed past the man and reached (Y/n).

“Why did you leave?” he tooks gasping breaths and placed his hands on his knees. “We need to talk and I mean really talk… please?” he looked up at her his chest heaving with every breath he took. Looking behind her he glared at the man who was following her.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me anymore…” (Y/n) admitted.

“I’m just in shock… ok I mean… you are this wonderful, amazing smart girl and… I don’t care that you live with your parents, hell you’re going to college and I can already imagine how expensive it can kind of be. But (Y/n), you’re Tommy’s sister… it... I… I don’t want us to end. But I’m scared at how he’ll react.”

“You feel awkward, don’t you?” (Y/n) asked. “I’m sorry Nikki. I just wanted to get to know you. I wanted a chance before Tommy would fuck it up…”

“He would have tried to fuck it up either way,” NIkki smiled at her. “It’s Tommy.”

“That is true. Why do you think I haven’t been on like any dates ever. Or I’m still a...you know…” She laughed awkwardly. “My brother and sister are a little...protective…”

“Athena knows, right? I mean… Look you’re nineteen, you vote, you can drink.” Nikki could feel his high coming down. “Tommy isn't your dad, he can't control you (Y/n). You want to give me your virginity that’s your decision not his… but in this day and age to find a guy who can be patient is not easy, and…. It’s up to you what you want to do.” Nikki ran a hand across his face. “Come on… am I taking you home or to Vanessa’s dorm? Although I think I saw her making out with Vince when I came to run after you”

“Then I guess I better go home.” She sighed. “You don’t have to take me. I can walk. It’s not that bad and I’m sure you have some...things to attend to.” She saw the girls on the strip, how they threw themselves at the band. She wasn’t like them. She knew that. She stuck out like a pink flamingo surrounded by swans.

“Not like this (Y/n), I am not going to let you go alone.” He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back towards the club to grab his things and his car. “Get in, NOW!” (Y/n) nodded and got in the car.

NIkki made his way in and grabbed his stuff.

“Hey man!” Tommy said. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, I’m meeting up with my girlfriend. She and her friends are going to a party in the valley so I’ll be over there.” he looked at Athena and winked. “So I’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”

“Oh a party! I love parties!” Tommy said. “Can I go?”

NIkki gave a devilish smirk, “Sure let me write down the address.” Nikki proceeded to write down a random address from the valley and laughed. Tommy was going to be in for a surprise when there was no party or girls. “Here you go man, have fun.”

Without another word Nikki walked to his car. He put his things in the trunk and climbed in. Peeling off onto the road he looked at (Y/n), “hungry?”

“Kinda.” She admitted. “I had brunch with Tommy this morning and that’s about it.”

“How about a something quick and we can just talk somewhere… really talk.” Nikki looked at her as he pulled up through a fast food restaurant drive through and ordered them some food. After that, Nikki drove her up to the Hollywood sign, just like on their first date. Taking the food he placed it on the hood and helped her up. “OK, so… how are we going to do this?”

“What do you mean?” (Y/n) asked, looking at him.

“Ok, I can just tell them that my girlfriend is busy with getting her degree, and making sure she keeps her grades up to get a good job.” NIkki shrugged and took a bite out of his burger. “We can try and not hang out too much on the strip… do some dates in a different part.”

“You still want me to be your girlfriend?” (Y/n) asked, a little surprised.

“Only if you still want to be,” NIkki sighed as he looked out at the view of the city. “I don’t deserve you… but I really like you (Y/n).” She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, moaning softly as she did.

“Does that answer your question?” She asked when she pulled away, only to be pulled in for another kiss. Nikki deepened the kiss his tongue exploring her mouth as his hands found their way under her shirt. His fingers dancing on her skin.

“Nikkik, I’m ready.” (Y/n) told him, blushing softly.

“Hotel? Or your parent’s house?” he whispered as he looked into her eyes.

“No one is home except for me for a month.” (Y/n) whispered. “Let’s go.”

NIkki helped her down and back in the car. Driving towards her house he parked a block away in case Tommy was there.

“Tommy doesn’t come around unless he wants something,” (Y/n) told him. “Come on.” She took his hand and led him in and to her room. There were so many books and rock posters on the walls. Nikki made a mental note to take her to a bookstore for a date sometime. She turned and kissed him deeply.

Nikki led her to the bed and laid her down. His fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt. Breaking the kiss so that he could take it off, he did the same to his own and kissed her again. Her kiss was intoxicating, it was better than any bump of cocaine he ever had.

“Nikki.” (Y/n) whispered, his calloused fingers trailing on her skin. “I want this.”

NIkki paused looking at her face and sighed. “You don’t have to do this to impress me (Y/n), you’re amazing and….” her lips crashed in his as she rolled him on his back taking the initiative.

“I told you I wanted this.” She told him, kissing him roughly. “Just...give me some guidance, okay?”

“Whatever you say sweet girl,” Nikki smiled as she worked on removing his pants. He smiled at the way she looked at his cock. “What is it (Y/n)?”

“The only one I’ve ever seen was when Vanessa stole a stack of Playgirls from her aunt's house,” (Y/n) admitted. “And a certain brother of mine when he runs through the neighborhood naked on a dare.”

“OH well, don’t be shy he’s really happy to see you,” he chuckled and ran his fingers through her hair. “He loves being played with.” She looked up at him as she shyly wrapped her fingers around him. With a deep breath, she bowed her head and took the tip into his mouth, sucking on it gently. “Shit, just like that sweet girl” He moaned as he bucked his hips at her touch. The pressure was just right for someone who had never done it before. She relaxed and let him slide into her mouth, closing her eyes as she bobbed her head. Vanessa and Athena had given her some tips for if she was ever in the position to lose her v-card. She just didn’t think it was ever going to happen.

“F-f-fuck,” he moaned as he threw his head back. (Y/n) cupped his balls the way Vanessa told her how to, but she wasn’t expecting this reaction. She could feel him twitch in her mouth as she continued to suck on him. That’s when Nikki suddenly pushed her back.

“Did...did I do something wrong?” She asked. She had done something very right and it was going to end the evening a lot sooner if she didn’t stop.

“No, baby girl, It’s just…” he blushed. “If I don’t stop you the night might end too soon and I still haven’t made you cum.” he brought her up and laid her down on the bed. She gasped softly, watching as he worked her out of her panties. “That is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” he smiled at her.

“W-what are you gonna do?” She asked, watching him.

“I’m going to make you see stars sweet girl,” he muttered against her neck as he sucked on her pulse. He trailed down along her body taking her nipples into his mouth sucking on them making them erect. “Mmmmm, your skin tastes so sweet.”

His fingers danced down to her mound his face following after as he licked on long strip along her folds. She was already wet with anticipation and she tasted sweet against his tongue.

“Oh god!” (Y/n) moaned, bucking her hips some. “F-fuck.” The noises she was making was making Nikki harder than he thought he could be. He pushed a finger gently into her hole curling it finding her g-spot. He smiled at the whine she made and moved his finger slowly in and out of her. “N-Nikki…” She gasped. His finger was bigger than hers, and it felt so different than it did the night before. So much better.

Nikki sucked on her clit as he added a second finger. “Cum for me sweet girl let me feel you cum on my fingers,” he went back to sucking on her clit as he moved his fingers faster into her.

“Oh god!” (Y/n) called out as she came around his fingers. Breathing heavy, she glanced down at him to see him smiling. “Wow…” She panted.

“Fun’s not over sweet girl,” he pulled her in for a kiss letting her taste herself on him. She kissed him deeply, keeping her arms wrapped around him.

“You still have to cum, right?” (Y/n) asked.

“I have to make you feel better than what you just felt,” Nikki smirked and went to his jeans to grab a condom. “You think you’re ready for me?”

“You...I don’t think you’re gonna fit…” (Y/n) said, watching him. She was a little nervous. Girls at school always said it hurt the first time.

“Shhhhh,” Nikki caressed her cheek, “I’m going to go nice and slow sweet girl,” he lined up and pushed into her slowly. He bit his lip to keep from spilling. He stopped every inch to get her used to his size until he bottomed out. His hips were flushed with hers as he stayed still letting her adjust to his size. He could see the blood from her walls stretching. She grabbed onto him, burying her face in his shoulder. It hurt, that was true, but it felt good at the same time.

“Nikki…” She whispered. “M-move.”

NIkki moved slowly at taking long strides. His heart pounded in his chest as he felt her walls clenched around him. She felt nothing like the countless girls he had fucked. But this wasn’t fucking, this was something else, this scared the life out of him. Guys like him don’t get girls like (Y/n).

“Fuck…” (Y/n) gasped into his ear. The pain was starting to fade away. She moved her hips to get more friction. It was feeling amazing.

Nikki began moving faster as her walls slicked up. He took her lips in his and kissed her deeply. He swallowed her moans and screams as he felt her walls flutter around him. He loved the feel of him.

"I'm...I'm close…" she purred. "N-Nikki."

“Cum for me (Y/n). Just relax and let go,” he groaned as he sucked on her pulse and continued his thrusts. He smiled at the feel of her walls fluttering around him as she came he couldn’t hold off and spilled into the condom.

(Y/n) laid there as Nikki rolled off of her and pressed against her side. She felt him gently touching her, offering assurance that she was okay.

"Did I do good?" She asked him.

“Good?” Nikki chuckled. “Sweet girl you were AMAZING!” he pulled her in for a deep kiss. “You give me a couple minutes to rest and we can do it again.”

Nikki and (Y/n) spent the night loving each other over and over and over again. By Midnight, Nikki wrapped (Y/n) in his arms with the blankets over them as they fell asleep.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk

Motley Crue Tags: @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @flamencodiva @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @livingdeadharley @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321

Nikki Sixx Tags: @daisystuffsstuff

Too Young to Fall in Love Tags: @kingbouji3 @leximus98 @thekidbakerinthetardis @crystalbaby12

#too young to fall in love #Motley Crue #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #nikki x reader #dirt!nikki sixx #dirt!nikki sixx x reader #dirt!nikki x reader #dirt!nikki #the dirt #fanfiction

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findsilver · 5 years

Note

We know a lot about Paul and John dynamics after the break up, but I’m totally ignorant in regards of George and Ringo, how did they treat Paul, there are sources of public declaration that you know about? P.S. I love you

Okay, so I want to preface this by saying that I’m not exactly a specialist on Beatle knowledge, and I’m also not claiming Paul was a saint and the rest of them were the devils, it’s not really my intention. Paul has done his fair share of shitty things and he’s not completely blameless, it’s not what I want you to take out of this. What I mean to say though, is that out of four of them he took the brunt of the breakup the most and for the longest time the main narrative painted him as the villain. He was the fall guy for them, while even speaking on a purely legal level, it was him against them for a period of time. And he had to fight for himself and his livelihood, given he had just started a family, plus I believe he did always have the Beatles’ best interest at heart.

I’ve seen many people say that this whole situation was of his own making and I suppose in a way it was, because he was the one who made it official, but let’s not pretend he wasn’t forced into it. He didn’t actually want the Beatles to end, because he loved the band and it was his passion project, but he was pushed so far and so viciously during that time that he had lost any delusions about it eventually, and thus carried the message that they wanted to keep quiet for longer. It stripped (especially) John of his cards, but since we’re gonna talk about the other too more, I’ll try not to repeat myself. John is, however, a key to it all, given that he was the main orchestrator behind recruiting George and Ringo to side with him instead of Paul. But while George had his own reason for doing so, feeling both sidelined by their partnership and in search of partnering with John simultaneously, Ringo simply wanted to avoid conflict.

The thing is this, it was the easiest to blame Paul because come the White Album onwards, he was the main reason they even got as much done as they did. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Where they were fairly indecisive, he had the work ethic, the drive, he tried to keep the band going after Brian died, which of course made it easy for the rest of them to blame him in case something failed. But at the beginning of the band all four of them agreed upon a rule, that each band related decision would have to be unanimous. It basically means that in order for them to do something, all four of the Beatles have to agree to it, and each one of them, should they dislike the idea, had the power to veto it. Even one of them disagreeing would mean something was scrapped. It means, for example, that when Magical Mystery Tour flopped, they all blamed it on Paul unfairly given they were all on board with it in the first place. It is important, because later on when all the legal things started happening, they lied about it saying that it was never the case and they worked on majority vote. Ironically, as much as it was John’s idea, when both George and Ringo lied about it in court, John retracted and confirmed they lied and they did in fact agreed on the unanimous rule, making the two of them look like liars.

The thing is, all this drama with management could have been solved if the reason they came to blows wasn’t so personal. They wanted to shove Allen Klein down Paul’s throat, who was John and Yoko’s idea, and Paul wasn’t having any of it, because he had known Klein’s reputation and didn’t want to sign with him. He did suggest the Eastmans, who offered a much better deal, however since they were his in-laws, it was met with a lot of disdain from the others. Big mistake, because Paul did end up the best out of all of them financially. I’m not super informed on the legal aspects of it, but I did read somewhere that he also suggested a third party, but it was discarded too, I’m guessing simply to control him and push him off the pedestal. The thing is, John was the main perpetrator of that whole thing, George was bitter so obviously he would join John even though it was John who didn’t show up to work on his stuff and not Paul, and Ringo in a true to himself fashion felt that it was better to side with the majority and Paul would eventually come around. Paul didn’t come around though, clearly.

There was also the whole thing with the unfortunate letter John and George wrote to Paul concerning shifting the release date of his solo album to a further date so it wouldn’t collide with Let It Be, as well as I believe Ringo’s album. The thing is, they never talked about it with him, they just simply decided it behind his back and wrote him a passive aggressive letter, daring to put in it that it was nothing personal. Ringo decided to deliver it, since it was believed that he was a somewhat neutral party, somehow failing to realize how insulting it must have been to Paul. Unexpectedly to him, but very predictably to me, Paul got very angry and had a very verbal lashing out against Ringo, something which Ringo later spoke about, being hurt that he was kicked out of Paul’s house so abruptly and angrily. I believe Paul was justified, but see for yourself how the letter went:

Dear Paul, We thought a lot about yours and the Beatles LPs – and decided it’s stupid for Apple to put out two big albums within 7 days of each other (also there’s Ringo’s and Hey Jude) – so we sent a letter to EMI telling them to hold your release date til June 4th (there’s a big Apple-Capitol convention in Hawaii then). We thought you’d come round when you realized that the Beatles album was coming out on April 24th. We’re sorry it turned out like this – it’s nothing personal. Love John & George. Hare Krishna. A Mantra a Day Keeps MAYA! Away.

It was the proverbial last nail in the coffin, because shortly after was I believe when Paul announced he quits the Beatles. He had no intention of pushing his first solo album, recorded when he was feeling really depressed. Soon enough the movie Let It Be came out, and we ought to note he was the only one that allowed his own warts to be left in the movie and not come out. It wasn’t shown how John would be high all the time on heroin or wouldn’t show up to record George’s stuff, and how they fought, how Ringo would leave the studio or George wouldn’t show up. It’s actually a fact that after Paul announced he quit, some people booed him at Let It Be screenings.

There are also of course plenty of other things that happened. There was the whole thing where they allegedly decided to throw a brick through Paul’s window, I believe around the time Paul sued them. Sounds a bit shitty that he elected to do it, but it was the only thing that really saved them in the longer run. He sued the Beatles to save the Beatles, since he was right about Klein. They also were very vocal about him to the press and encouraged the slander against him. John was the most vocal of them all and he’s largely the person responsible for how Paul was depicted for years simply because the rock press establishment was willing to crawl up his ass. They also met up to play music together countless of times at the beginning while Paul was excluded, criticized his solo music. There was just little break, you know?

It’s almost sad to think that for the rest of them, it would have been easier to move past it if Paul wasn’t right and didn’t win all the lawsuits.

And I admire Paul for living through it and forgiving them in the end, especially given how depressed he was around the time and after it all ended, though I can see why the Beatles, once a passion project, became ruined for him for quite a long time as a result. The thing is, Paul could be controlling, impossible and thoughtless, completely oblivious about other people’s feelings. He wasn’t perfect, but I don’t think for a second that he didn’t have the band’s best interest at heart. The same day John asked for a divorce he suggested they go back to little gigs and touring. I think he was largely punished for being the one that was willing to take the reins after Brian died, because the rest of them weren’t feeling up to it until it became a matter of personal grievances, and thus giving them an excuse to try and cut down his supposed power. It clearly must have hurt so much because he loved them and it was his mates doing it.

Either way, I believe the Beatles broke up the Beatles. There were a thousand reasons for them to break up during the time, most of which we don’t even know and will likely never know. They were all deeply fucked up by the course of events, and neither was a saint. I just do have a problem with the most commonly perpetuated narrative that paints Paul as the villain, when it was far more complex than that.

#i'm so sorry it took me so long to reply to this #it's still so chaotic but i tried my best #i don't really know THAT much about the beatles so this is just my opinion #sorry if you disagree let's just agree to disagree then #i had angry people on my posts before and i'm just stating my opinions and how i view things #i don't think paul was a saint and it's not about crawling up HIS ass #it's about just sticking up for him and he was duped by the breakup so #anyway yeah #again sorry for taking so long #anon #answered #ALSO THANKS BABY !!!!! LOVE U !!!!!!!!!!!#ALSO:#if i'm wrong pls correct me tho

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crazyfreckledginger · 5 years

Text

Tim Drake x Reader - “Everything Is Ruined”

Tim works so much he completely forgets how fast your birthday is approaching. Once he finally realises he needs to get his butt in gear, he actually manages to set everything up the eve of your birthday. His happiness is soon replaced by saddness when event after event is ruined on the day.

A/N: This is a little birthday gift for my sister @nxxttime, I hope you like it sis, I love you so so much, thank you for everything you do for me!

“Good night, baby,” (Y/N) kissed Tim’s cheek. His eyes peeled away from the screen, bags under his eyes and pulling the girl back down by her loose hanging pyjama top. He captured her lips in his, keeping her a little longer close to him.

When they parted, she smiled, cupping his cheek.

“Don’t stay up to late okay? I’ll miss you otherwise,” she nuzzled his nose, knowing that telling him about self care would have been less sticky than if she made it for her own interest.

“Okay, I’ll make sure I come to bed soon,” he nodded sweetly, pecking her lips as she caressed his cheek and stood up, trudging to their bedroom. The light turned off, leaving Tim only in the presence of the light of a small side lamp and the computer screen.

He worked for a few more hours before stretching, yawning loudly and rubbing his eyes. As he turned of his computer, he looked at the time. His eyes widened as he stared at the date.

TWO DAYS BEFORE (Y/N)’S BIRTHDAY??? WHERE DID THE TIME GO???

He shot off his seat, feeling him dying a little inside. How could this come by so fast??? He had such a huge plan to surprise his girlfriend, two days wasn’t enough!

But he had to try.

****

“Babe?” (Y/N) grumbled as she wobbled towards the living room. Tim looked up from the couch behind his computer, nearly jumping out of his skin in surprise and secrecy.

“H-hi, good morning baby!” he smiled, shutting his computer whilst maintaining eye contact with her.

“Why are you up so early?” she frowned, sliding her arms lazily around his shoulders as he stood up to greet her. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her skin.

“I have so much work to do,” he whined, pulling her as close as possible. His overworking made him crave cuddling and he’s only realised this now.

“Okay Timmy, we can cuddle once you don’t have as much work okay? I don’t want you to be stressed,” she played with his hair as he nodded slowly.

“I can’t stay for long babe, I have a lot to do today, okay?” She pecked his nose before pacing to the bedroom to find some close to wear.

“Okay,” he watched her leave. On the one hand, he was happy she was busy because that would mean he could prepare everything carefully but he didn't want her to work so much, he wanted her to spend time with him. T-T

As soon as the front door shut closed, Tim opened his computer briskly to continue his search. Let's hope he can make it just as perfect as that of which he originally planned.

"Hello, excuse me?" He asked as he dialled a number on his phone. To his huge relief, someone picked up.

"Yeah. From what time are you open today?" He waited patiently on the phone as the other line spoke.

"Great, thank you so much, I'll come and pick that up today," he thanked the person again before hanging up.

First thing, check.

This is going to take a while.

*****

He hurried along the pavement, hands in his coat and scanning the shop logos for the one he was looking for. A relaxed smile appeared on his face as the shop came into few. His feet guided him to the entrance, to which he pushed the door open.

A small bell announced his arrival. Without a second thought, he paced to the cashier.

*****

He stared down at his phone, gritting his teeth as he realised it was already one in the afternoon. Still so many things to do in so little time. Tim's tired feet pulled him to the supermarket.

"Um, okay, here goes nothing," he murmured, pulling the small piece of paper out of his pocket and skimming through the list. The boy gulped before walking through the automatic doors.

****

Drake released a content sigh as he collapsed on the couch. His limbs were sore from all the errands -- but he was happy with everything he's achieved today.

Going over his list again, his eyes widened at the two remaining things on his list. The harder things to do.

Maybe he could call Jason?

No, he would feel a lot better if he did it himself.

But he might mess up!

Oof, decisions, decisions, decisions.

*****

It was another day and Tim was right on track. He attached the balloons all over the apartment, placed bath bombs and scattered scented candles in the bathroom with rose petals around the bedroom like a hopeless, cliché romantic. It wasn't as good as he wanted it to, but it was enough given the time constraint.

Now it was only the cake.

He was staring at the clock, very careful and meticulous to his approach at making the cake as perfect as possible. Reading and rereading the guidelines, he made sure to understand the entire recipe.

Increasing the temperature on the oven, he was hoping the cake would finish cooking before (Y/N) came back... which was any minute now. His fingers were crossed, wanting the heat to magically bake the cake perfectly.... even if he put it in there ten minutes ago.

The sound of keys teased his ears and his eyes widened as he shot off the ground and moved frantically about, not knowing how to buy time.

"Babe, I'm home!" She locked the door behind her and placed her coat on the hanger.

"Baby, hi!" He grinned widely, engulfing her in a big and anxious hug.

"Are you okay?" She frowned softly, slowly returning the hug, "why are you a little jittery?" The girl gasped as she interrupted herself mid sentence, "you didn't drink four cups of coffee in a row did you?"

"N-no, nothing like that!" He pecked her lips with a small blush on his face.

"Wow, what is all of this?" Her face stared in awe at the beautiful decorations he set up.

"Happy birthday, baby," he grinned with a soft look in his eyes.

"Oh Timmy," she cooed, pulling him in for another hug and kissing him deeply, "I love you,"

"I love you too!" He blushed.

"Do you smell that?" She sniffed, frowning suddenly. His eyes widened, "does it smell like something is burning to you?"

"OH NO!" He raced to the kitchen, the girl right on her tail as he turned off the oven, slipped his hands into oven gloves and took the cake out of the oven.

"NOOO!" He whined, placing it on the countertop. It was a brown orangey colour, far from the picture that was displayed in the cooking book. It also looked more bloated. He took a knife, poking the bubbly bit. It burst in his face, sending burned cake and frosting all over the place.

A huge pout graced his features as he stared at the girl in defeat.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, looking down at the ground.

"Why babe?" She frowned.

"Because I ruined your birthday, everything looks rushed -- which it is, I didn't realise how fast your birthday was approaching and the cake is a mess, I'm sorry," he sulked.

"Nonsense Timmy, the cake isn't ruined!" They both gazed at the cake, Tim then gave her an unimpressed look and the girl cringed slightly. The little frosting that was left on the cake was too obviously lopsided and everything on the cake was sloppy. If someone stared at the birthday cake for long enough, it would be certain to be visibly collapsing by the minute.

"Okay, maybe it is but I still loved everything about it!" She pulled him by the collar.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow at her as his arms slipped around her waist.

"Of course, you wanna know why?"

"Uh huh!" He nodded like a small child.

"Because you were the one who did this for me," She smiled sweetly, hugging his waist, "and because you took time out of your day to set this up for me," her lips gently kissed her forehead. He paused for a second before sighing.

"I love you,"

"I love you too," she caressed his jaw, taking some off the frosting off his cheek with her thumb.

"Not possible."

Comments, votes and feedback improve motivation, writing and publishing, so it is in your best interest to leave some! :)

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borusawa · 5 years

Text

Favorite Girl

❀ Pairings BoruSara

❀ Rating T (mentions drugs abuse)

❀ Beta-reader @abbypdg

❀ Word Count 2,200

❀ A/N Thanks to everyone who voted on my twitter and chose this story. I’m really proud of the result. I’ll love to know your thoughts so share them freely! (Highly inspired by the song "Best Friend” the Cavetown version)

Sarada was so beautiful.

He wondered how he wasn’t able to see that before she started dating someone else.

Boruto thought he was going to lose control the first time he saw Sarada kissing her boyfriend right in front of him as if people around didn’t exist. She even dared to smile during the kiss, making his insides twist in beg for him to shut his eyes close, or simply look somewhere else. He couldn’t look anywhere else but her.

The truth is that Boruto never thought about Sarada as anything more than his best friend, so he had no idea of what was the new feeling inside his chest while he watched her actually showing affection to someone else. Seeing the touch and the kisses made Boruto wonder how would it be if he was in that guy’s place. Would she give him those smiles? Would she kiss him with that much passion just because the feeling was too much to keep inside? Boruto was completely aware that it wasn’t a safe track of thoughts, but recognizing it and actually stop thinking about her in that way were two different things. He just wanted to taste her lips once, even though knowing nothing would be the same after that.

He didn't know what to do. It was like his body had no power by itself and it was urging for her touch, to feel her skin against his. It took too long for him to realize it, and he was sure it was all lost. That until his birthday.

It was his party, but he was not having fun.

Boruto could not have fun or peace while he knew Sarada was somewhere else with her “boyfriend” instead of attending to his stupid party. He regretted throwing a party in the first place because although all those people loved him, he couldn’t avoid but check the phone in search for at least one message saying sorry or giving an excuse. That was what bothered him the most: she was not feeling sufficiently sorry to send a ridiculous apology, not even an obvious lie. He didn’t want to rely on alcohol once more when it came to her—all the bars in the city already knew him; for most of them, he wasn’t bold enough to return ever again.

She was his little trouble, his best problem. Thinking about her could be both a relief and a pain and no one else could understand so he quit explaining. That was it. Boruto had no idea if they remained friends at this point—what kind of shitty friend skipped a friend’s birthday party?—and he just wanted one call from her so he could act as if everything was fine.

“What are you doing?” Boruto turned to face a black haired girl with blue eyes just like his. Her questioning stare always found out the truth, no matter how much he tried to hide it. “Thinking about Sarada, right?”

Boruto took one sip of his drink. The whole room was already kinda dizzy around him and his sister’s voice seemed far despite the fact that she was right beside him, her hand carefully placed over his arm. “I’m worried. She didn’t come nor left a message and that’s so un-Sarada-like.”

Himawari sighed heavily expressing extreme concern toward the whole situation. “I’m pretty sure she is on her way,” that was what she really believed.

Boruto threw his body on the couch in a precarious demeanor quietly accompanied by his sister. “You know what? I’m fine. Don’t worry.” His smile would be convincing to anyone but Himawari. Nonetheless, the young girl was not stupid, and she knew better than to question her brother’s attitude further.

“You promise me?” Hima tilted her head.

“Promise.”

They smiled for each other for a second before Himawari got up. “Don’t stay here all night. Talk to your friends, take her out of your mind for a change.”

Boruto knew forgetting wasn’t a possibility—he tried so hard to but never achieved any results—so he made no further promises; however, as soon as she left, he just got up to pour another drink. It didn’t take long for some of his friends to find him and engage a conversation dripped in alcohol. He missed them. He missed being around his friends other than Sarada, Mitsuki and the drunk people of Konoha’s bars, but between missions and regrets, he had no time left.

Cup after cup and he was no longer aware of the world around him.

It was late when Shikadai reached for him and said they were leaving, and not much after other people left as well. The party was over. She didn’t appear. He glanced at the clock on the opposite wall while scratching his head and the pointers showed that it was 4am. The hangover started to hit in. Boruto pondered about his possibilities—he could either go to sleep and get a deserved rest or start to drink again. He chose the latter.

The strong taste felt like it was burning inside but this pain could at least make him forget any other. When did he become so… unhappy?

“Boruto? Are you okay?” The voice belonged to a girl, but Boruto didn’t even check who despite knowing his house was supposedly empty. He just closed his eyes and swallowed the last drop of his drink, placing the cup back on the table right after.

“I’m fine.” His voice was crackled and inconsistent.

A soft hand touched his back with a familiar warmth. “You are not okay, stop lying.”

When Boruto finally glanced at the origin of the voice Sarada was there, red dress and big black eyes piercing through his soul. Boruto grinned; he was happy to see her and she gave him a soft smile as an answer to his obvious satisfaction. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“I thought… You weren’t coming.” His voice told more than he was expecting to.

“What?” Sarada fixed glasses and giggled. “What made you think that? I would never miss your birthday.”

“Well, you’re also never late.”

Sarada sighed and her eyes darted around. Boruto never quit looking at her since her uncommon attitude made him suspicious. “I had reasons.” At his stare, she blushed. “We should… Sit on the couch, maybe? I want to talk to you about something.” Boruto raised his body from the chair and gave a small step. The alcohol made him stumble and he would hit the ground if it wasn’t for Sarada holding him. “Oh shit, you’re really drunk! Why did you drink that much?” She started to drag him and he simply let her. “You shouldn’t drink, look at your state!”

Boruto smirked. “Are you worried about me?”

“Sadly, I always am.” Sarada sighed but then smirked. “I should take you upstairs and then you can take a rest.”

They started to walk and his eyes never left her. The way her expression painted concern made him grin, even though he knew he shouldn’t be delighted by making his friend worried. She opened his room’s door in such a comfortable manner that he asked himself how did she get so easily stuck in his life and became impossible to cut her out. Having no idea if it was the alcohol speaking, he suddenly felt hope about them; something indicated that her sudden kindness toward him was not random. The truth was that Sarada had always been amazing and thoughtful; she always had that aura of someone you can trust your life to—and Boruto trusted her.

She placed him on his bed and closed the door starting to pace around immediately after. He was only waiting for her to speak first.

“We need to talk,” she declared as if it wasn’t clear already.

“You know that I’m too drunk to talk right now,” he said playfully.

“This is all your fault.” She interrupted her anxious pacing only to send a glare at his direction.

He was confused at her statement—startled, to be precise—and his eyes narrowed at her. “What did I do this time?”

A moment of silence settled in the room and the air was getting heavier every second, both of them increasingly anxious to her next words. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

Sarada blushed deeply, not knowing how to hide the unexpected feeling of relief that telling Boruto brought to her. She made the ultimate promise to be true to herself before her birthday and decided that it should start by her feelings. Breaking up with someone she didn’t really like was easy, the hard part was confronting the one she really liked and that also decided to be drunk the same night she was determined to explain him everything.

“I don’t get it, I thought you loved him.”

“You’re wrong. I thought I would love him and unlove someone else, so I guess we were both wrong. You and I.”

Although completely drunk, Boruto didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he placed his words carefully. “I’m sad to hear that” He was so not.

“You’re such a great liar, even when you’re drunk, but it doesn’t work with me and I love that.” She sat by his side on the bed, a shy smile looming.

“Is that what you like the most about me? The fact that I’m easy to read?”

“No.” She said matter-of-factly. “First of all, who said I like you?” She denied to look at him; he did the exact opposite.

“I am the reason you broke up, ain’t I?” She didn’t show any reaction so he kept going. “I knew I should’ve made you mine when I had the opportunity.”

“Opportunity? I don’t recall giving you any.” Sarada smirked.

Boruto overdramatically placed a hand on his chest. “Ouch.”

“But I should have.” She sighed. “God, I hope you’re drunk enough to not remember any of this tomorrow.” She took a deep breath and stared at him for the first time in a while. “You see, I planned a whole speech on my way here and when I saw you, I forgot everything. It feels so weird, almost like I’m not me anymore. I hate that.” Despite the clear effort, her blush deepened.

The subsequent silence scared her but she was not brave enough to break it. Boruto did that for her. “You’re blushing.”

“I know.”

“Why are you blushing?”

Sarada narrowed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have come here.” She got up but Boruto held her wrist. It would’ve been a simple touch if they weren’t them. For them, a simple touch was enough to send shivers throughout their bodies and to make a now common cold appear in their stomachs. His mind was racing, looking for the right words to make her stay but it wasn’t easy.

“Stay a little longer. Please.” The pledge was a whisper, almost like he didn’t want to say it and Sarada felt every word.

“I… I have nothing left to say.” She turned herself to him.

“I’m willing to hear anything that means listening to your voice the whole night.”

Sarada blinked twice, their heartbeat increased while they looked at each other’s eyes. She was wondering how could her heart be beating so fast and her body still working perfectly—shouldn’t she be dying or something? “It’s almost five in the morning.” She sat again. “Don’t you have anything to tell me?”

Boruto tilted his head and smirked, “You didn’t tell me anything, to be honest.”

Sarada threw herself on the bed for once, the aroma of clean sheets entering her nose. “I’m sorry, Boruto.”

“Not what I was expecting but... What are you sorry for?” He raised a doubtful eyebrow and mimicked her, throwing himself right by her side. “Skipping my birthday?”

“Oh my god, I have so much to apologize for.” Boruto chuckled when she placed her hands over her face. “Okay. First of all, I’m sorry for skipping your birthday. Second, sorry for never giving you a chance. And lastly,” she took a deep breath, “sorry for hiding my feelings toward you for so long.”

Boruto sighed and looked at the ceiling. “You’re doing better than me. I drank thinking about you a hundred times and yet never actually thought about telling you anything.”

“Is that why you’re drunk now?” Boruto mumbled in response and Sarada giggled. “Say what?”

“I love you.”

Sarada felt her blood stop running in her veins and her heart beating in her whole body. It was a nice, comfortable sensation even knowing that he was the cause of all good feelings that filled her at that moment, in the middle of the night—almost morning—in an empty after party for which they were the only ones invited. She knew that what she felt was the type of feeling that people wrote about—the unstoppable unavoidable wish to be by the side of someone you love—and she was sincerely glad to share it with the person she cared the most all her life. Finally.

“Boruto… I love you.” She turned to him but his eyes were closed, and a light snore could be heard. Sarada chuckled softly. “I hope you were sober enough to remember everything tomorrow.”

#borusara #borusarafics #boruto #boruto uzumaki #boruto naruto next generations #borusara oneshot #sarada #sarada uchiha #otp #fanfiction

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butindeed · 5 years

Text

When two brothers get together for a glass of whiskey.

Tagging @cora-nova - Thanks for the vote of confidence :)

Tha man rushed through the poorly lit corridors, but his feet seemed to know the way just the same as if the lights were shining.

He glanced at his watch, the same old watch his father has worn, and his father before him. He was on the nick of time, a half-smile was drawn on his face.

Lazily the man rose his knuckles and gently knocked on the magnificently carved wooden door, but it wasn’t any kind of knock, it seemed like a password, a secret only a few knew.

He waited two seconds. Three. Five. Ten. Then he knocked again, his smile faltered a bit, until he heard the faint steps, silenced by the thick carpet.

The door opened hesitantely, and a tall figure appeared, showing nothing but the worked up torso covered in a sports suit, white shirt that revealed a blue scar underneath. The face, however, remained in the dark.

-Welcome my dear friend. For a moment I feared you wouldn’t show up.

-I always do.

Both men marched through the parlour and to the balcony without crossing a word. The tall man approached a well stocked beverage trolley and having generously poured whiskey on two ornamented cristal highballs, he turned slowly around, his face still hidden.

He sipped his glass, not yet swallowing the content, as if he knew he’d have to speak once he had done it. Finally he gluped silently; then he sighed and handed out the second glass to the other man.

Drake felt a drop falling on his forehead followed by hundreds of them that threatened to bring the party to a conclusion. Lords of House Beaumont had just left and deep inside he knew the party hadn’t started yet. He knew Liam as well as he knew himself and he knew what was troubling him. They were brothers, maybe not in blood, but in life.

Liam closed the glass doors behind him calmly. The quiet before the storm, Drake thought, and again he was not mistaken.

-Why would my own brother do such thing to me? To his own blood!

-You know Leo was never cut to be a King.

-Selfish, son of a... - Liam took a deep breath before continuing - Leo was born to be king. All that charisma, a winner’s personality, plus he has the looks, he’s everything our people would have loved. I was just supposed to be the spare.

-I think you’re wrong Liam. I think everyone knew, you included, that you were always the better option.

-I was supposed to be the spare - Liam sighed as the tears that had been contained since he had heard the news streamed quietly down his face.

-Thanks - the man said right before downing half the content of his glass in a glup.

-Thirsty?

-Cut the...-he paused - why have you summoned me Liam?

-It’s Thursday

-I thought you had suspened our meetings

-It was only one time - the Prince waved his hand dismissevly

-They’ve been four

-Have they now?

-What do you want Liam?

-As you know, the Coronation Ball is in a few days...

-Saturday Liam, it’s this Saturday- Drake interrupted - You don’t need to talk like that, not to me.

- Yes, so Saturday - Liam paused, swirling the ambar liquor on his glass, preparing himself for the carefully rehearsed words he was about to say - I have made my decision.

-You mean...?

-Yes, I chose...

The thick snow layer was a nuisance for all the castle staff, and for everyone else in fact, but for the group of children that had arrived that morning at Lythikos and were now deciding on what game to play.

-I would love to build a snowman - Savannah told lady Kiara as they strolled arm in arm, followed some steps behind by a shy red faced Lady Penelope that was mumbling something about building a pet for him too.

Lady Madeleine hesitated, she seemed torn. Probably she’d have enjoyed that activity greatly, but she was on a mission as her father had stated over and over. Plus, as her own mother would have said she was now old enough to be with the others. She looked once again at the girls that had already started building a giant ball and whipped her hair loftily strutting towards another group that included, among others, prince Leo and Lord Bertrand.

There was one other child that looked at the group longing their company. A blond blue-eyed boy who seemed to have grown too quickly too fast. Just when he was about to take a step towards them, his brunette friend called his name from inside the house, as he ran to him at full speed pulling something that seemed probably too heavy.

-Liam!

-Yes?

-Look what I found at the basement!

-What is it?

-It’s a sledge! We can sneak out from here and slide down the hill.

-I’ll go too - A girl whose long red curls cascaded down her shoulders interrupted them as she tied up the mane in a messy pony tail. - Aunt Lucretia would kill me if she saw me. But she’s not here, is she? And building snowmen is not fun if you’re not going to slaughter them afterwards, so I suppose I must stick with you - she sneered glaring at Drake.

-We were not planning on inviting you - He said proudly, but was interrupted by her who mouthed ‘commoner’ without saying a single word.

-Plus, what kind of hostess would I be if I don’t show your Highness the best places to slide.

When the nannas called the group into the house for supper, the snow was reddened with the lights of dusk.

Once they were at the door, Drake pulled Liam aside.

-She likes you - he whispered half disgusted half amused

-Who? Olivia? - Liam replied searching her in the tiny crowd.

-Lady Riley

Drake spit half of his drink unable to look his friend in the eye.

-Are you allright my friend? - Liam giggled

-Yes, there was... a bug in... Wh.. W.. Why would you choose her? I mean, she’s not, well. Does your father approve?

-Not entirely, I have announced my decision to him and the advisors, I had to prepare a speech and all, to avoid crumpling in front of them, and they seemed pleased enough.

-But what did you say? What are those reasons?

-Well, for starters, she seems like a well-centered person, she is witty and fast learning. She has surprised everyone with her poise and behaviour.

Drake could feel his body getting colder and colder by the second and his hands covered in sweat. Still, he said nothing.

-If I’m being candid, I must admit that there are some further reasons. As you well know, monarchies are now scarce and highly unpopular. By marrying a foreign commoner I think people would embrace the gesture as the monarchy wanting to modernize itself.

-You’re using her! You... Do you love her at least?

-I find her incredibly attractive

-But do you love her? Do you love Hopkins?

Her kisses were still fresh on his lips. She was fire and he knew it. It had been a bad idea.

What was he thinking accepting Maxwell’s cry for help? It was for her, that’s why. And it was also an excuse, a sweet excuse to see her again, one more minute, alone, without the prince hovering around.

He felt guilty, she was there for his friend, his brother. However he couldn’t shake off the whirlwind of sensations he felt when she kissed him. She’d kissed him. It was reckless, but he would never regret about it. Now she was inside of him, and time it was for good.

-Hopkins? - Liam’s baby blues turned quickly into steel and scanned Drake’s burning chocolate one’s as if they were made of X rays. He held his stare for a few seconds weighting his own thoughts. Finally dismissing every dark thought of his friend, he sighed.

-It’s my decision. And it is final.

-Of course your Highness - Drake courtsied and left hurriedly, storming away.

He was so deeply lost on his own thought that he almost crashed the person that was standing in front of him.

-Drake, is everything ok?

Perfect, just the person he was trying to avoid.

#TRR #Drake Walker #Liam #Prince Liam #Riley #Riley Hopkins #Whiskey #The Royal Romance #Once piece

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jae-bummer · 6 years

Text

My Idol 2: Part Twelve

My Idol From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

My Idol is a South Korean competitive reality dating game show. It currently airs on Wednesday nights on Jae-bummer’s blog. First broadcast in 2016, the show offers the opportunity for a lucky fan to go on seven blind dates with seven idols. The idol plans the date with the show throwing in specific missions to complete during the day. At the end of the initial dates, the show opens up an audience vote to decide what three idols will move on to the second date.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

You opened your mouth to speak, only to close it again. After your date with Dean, you were very aware of what the underbelly of Seoul’s night life had to offer, but you had never been exposed to anything like this.

“Is...is this the night market?” you whispered, trying not to sound too hopeful. Ever since you had moved to Korea, you’ve wanted to experience the night market in some capacity, but never quite made it. You were the type to be safely tucked in bed before the ten o’clock news, not parading the streets in search of...well, you weren’t really sure what you would be in search of as you had never been out before.

“Maybe,” Yongguk trailed, the grin growing wider on his face. He rocked back and forth on his heels happily, looking as if he had intel on every secret you had ever wished to know. “You think you’re up to it?”

“Am I- am I up to it?” you stuttered, nearly falling from your scooter with excitement. “Of course I am! I mean...if you don’t mind having to part crowds for your handicapped date...”

“You do that all on your own,” he whispered. He leaned into you and placed his hand on your lower back. His breaths were heavy on your neck as he took his time to speak. “We can always change the plan if the crowd makes you uncomfortable.”

The crowd making you uncomfortable? Says the man growling his concerns about your well being into your ear. If anything was keeping you on edge, it definitely wasn’t the thought of the crowd.

“I’ll be fine,” you squeaked, your voice coming out as small as you wished you were in that moment. Fine was relative, wasn’t it?

“Good,” he chirped, leaning away from you. He placed his hand atop your fingers again and began to gently help push your scooter along.

You were uncertain if he was intentionally enacting psychological warfare to entice you, or if he was completely oblivious of his own power.

Something told you it was the latter.

“Have you ever been to one of the night markets before?” Yongguk asked, letting his deeply rich voice fill your thoughts instead of your own speculations.

“I haven’t,” you nodded. “Have you?”

“More than a few times,” he chuckled. “Night time activities are kind of my thing. I’ve never been good at sleeping.”

“So you’re like a bat?” you questioned, trying to make light of the heavy subject he was hinting at. You clearly remembered Yongguk’s history with anxiety and panic disorders, so the fact that it was peppered with insomnia wasn’t necessarily a surprise.

“I’m exactly like a bat,” he laughed with a small nod. “I have poor eyesight and I’m almost certain that the tone of my voice is used for some type of sonar.”

“I think bats are cute,” you hummed, keeping an eye on Yongguk in your peripheral vision.

“Then I guess I’m your type,” he said quietly, biting his lip. For a moment, you were almost completely lost in the gesture, but quickly realized that his footsteps had come to a halt. You had reached the outskirts of the night market and he had paused to appreciate the scene.

Or maybe prepare himself for it.

“This is a lot to take in,” you whispered, your eyes darting from one booth to another. There had to have been at least 50 to 60 stalls and tables set up, maybe even more.

“It’s cool, isn’t it?” he chimed. His face looked enraptured, like the small child in him had been ignited, yet his eyes were still tired, wary of how harsh the public can be.

“You know,” you said quietly, nudging him with your hand. He glanced down to your fingers as you intertwined them with his. “We could go to a cafe or something and I’d be just as happy.”

“I haven’t had time to do this in years, Y/N,” he nodded, an expression of determination now overtaking his features. “And I think it’s the type of memory I would like to make with you.”

“MISSION.”

“Really?” you groaned, spinning around to face the camera men. “Do you honestly wait until the most inconvenient moment to pull this shit, I mean really-”

“Y/N,” Yongguk laughed, squeezing your hand. “It’s okay.”

He let go of your fingers and reached forward to take the envelope. Ripping open the red paper with little hesitation, he scanned the card beneath. “Counting stars: Walk the rows of the night market and count the food trucks you see. Guess correctly in three attempts and escape the penalty.”

“Hardy har,” you grumbled. “Where’s the real mission card?”

“Excuse me?” one of the camera men croaked.

“I’m walking the entirety of this place for a mission,” you hissed, motioning to your scooter. “Possibly on three different tries...Really?”

“Really,” he deadpanned, hoisting his camera back onto his shoulder. “Get to scooting.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you clenched your fists. Your clumsiness was really starting to be an inconvenience.

“Hey,” Yongguk cooed. You opened your eyes as you felt him place his hand on your shoulder. “It’s fine. There’s no time limit, we’ll just go at your pace.” He glanced over his shoulder to make eye contact with the camera men. “Even if it takes all night.”

You hobbled alongside Yongguk, a man you honestly had no words for. “Angel” could be the single word that would be accurate enough to describe him in this situation. He was patient, kind, and laughed at all of your jokes. His humor could be dry and he seemed stern sometimes, but with one appearance of that smile, you were instantly put at ease. He knew a little about a lot, and never tired of answering your questions.

“I think this is...thirty?” you muttered, wincing down at your phone. You were both attempting to keep track of your progress with your notepads, but it was proving to be easier said than done.

“And I’ve ate approximately two potato tornadoes, three mandu, a free sample of gimbap, and an unfortunate french fry hotdog,” Yongguk groaned, holding his hand to his stomach.

“No one told you to eat at every booth, Yongguk,”you chuckled, shaking your head.

“And no one told me not to eat at every booth,” he sighed. “People just want to give me free things and I have difficulty with saying “no.”“

“Excuse me sir,” a woman called, her timing fairly poetic as she leaned out from a nearby food truck. “Would you like to try our-”

“No! He’s fine! Thank you!” you called back with a quick smile. The woman’s eyebrows shot up for a moment before she shrugged and went on to talk to the next person walking by.

“Thank you,” Yongguk whispered. “I started sweating just from the thought of eating again.”

You shook your head and patted him on the shoulder. “I got you.”

“I know you do,” he said quietly, glancing up at you through his lashes.

“Sometime today,” one of the camera men grumbled, shifting his position from one foot to the other.

“I told you this wasn’t going to be quick,” you grumbled, spinning as best as you could on your scooter. “This is no one’s fault but your own.”

“We gave you a head start,” the other camera man croaked. “You now have ten minutes...starting...now.”

“That’s not fair!” you gasped. “We’re only like halfway through now! And it’s been like....thirty minutes!”

“Nine and a half minutes,” the camera man chuckled, wiggling his brows.

“Hold on,” Yongguk growled, positioning himself behind you.

“I’m sorry...what?” you squeaked. Your heart was throttling itself against your ribcage, hardly being able to maintain a normal beat with Yongguk’s surprisingly close proximity.

“Hold. on,” he repeated, gripping the edge of your scooter seat. “And start counting.”

You held tightly to the handle bars and lifted your uninjured leg to balance on the front bar of the scooter. Yongguk began to walk briskly, pushing your scooter with all of his strength through the crowd.

“Excuse us! Sorry!” you called, grimacing as people began to dart out of the way.

“Count, Y/N!” Yongguk gasped. “Count!”

“Thirty....thirty one...two...” you squeaked, tables flying past you as you moved. He grunted behind you, trying to be as considerate as possible with his motions. “Thirty three....four...five...six. Yongguk, I feel like I’m going to fall off!”

Nerves pulsed through your arms as your shaky hands gripped at the handles. Fear wasn’t even beginning to explain the emotion coursing through you as an unintentional whimper escaped your lips. You didn’t have much left to injure.

“I got you,” Yongguk nodded. “I promise.”

There had been plenty of promises during this competition already and several had been broken.

Especially the ones concerning your safety.

“Yongguk,” you groaned, still uncertain as you sped over the pavement.

“Thirty seven, thirty eight!” he called out. “Count! Count and you won’t think about it.”

“I can’t count!” you whispered, tears beginning to hit your cheeks. “I’m scared.”

You were acting like a child and you knew it. Exhaustion hit you in waves and made your shoulders shudder. You were just so tired.

At your simple utterance of panic, Yongguk immediately dug his heels into the ground, tugging you to an abrupt stop. You sprung backwards, closing your eyes as you braced for an impact. Hitting something, it wasn’t the concrete you were expecting, but something much more warm...much more squishy.

“I told you I have you,” Yongguk whispered, his arms tight around your torso. You opened one eye slowly, followed by the other. He had caught you on your steady fall to the ground and held you securely. Buried in his chest, you looked up to find your face only centimeters from his, safe and sound after all. “But I won’t make you do anything you’re anxious about, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding numbly as you stared up at him. With the glow of the market lights illuminating him, he looked more ethereal than you ever imagined a human could. He leaned you forward, allowing you to rest your knee against the scooter again. His hold remained tight around your waist until he saw you were situated, at which point he began to unwind himself from you. Taking a deep breath, your hands moved before your mind could consider the action. Your fingers gripped his sweater, the wool sliding between your knuckles and folding beneath your palms. Yongguk looked down in surprise as you lifted your face toward his.

He had done it. He had made you feel safe. Something you hadn’t realized you needed until this very moment when you were guarded within his arms. His chest was your shelter and his heart genuinely cared about your well being. Someone you had met only a few hours ago had completely encapsulated everything you didn’t know you needed at this time in your life.

Yongguk could be right for you in the long term, but also, maybe he wasn’t. But as for right now, in this very moment, he was what made sense.

“What’s this?” he chuckled, glancing down at your closeness, but making no motion to move.

“A thank you,” you whispered, nodding slowly. You stood on your tiptoes, allowing yourself an extra inch or two to press your lips gently at the corner of his cheshire grin. You felt the happiness radiate from his mouth, a smile continuing behind the small kiss. Pulling away after seconds that had felt like a small forever, your face grew hot with embaressment.

“Sorry...”

“Don’t apologize,” he chuckled, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. A blush was creeping steadily along his cheeks. “You know...you can kiss me anytime you’d like really. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Yongguk,” you groaned, smacking at his chest.

He remained silent as he grinned, incapable of keeping his tongue from sliding along his lips.

“Alright lovebirds,” one of the camera man wheezed, finally catching up to the two of you. “What’s the number?”

You chewed nervously on your lip as you gazed up at Yongguk. His expression was thoughtful as he surveyed the area, doing careful math in his head. “Forty two.”

“Forty two?” you questioned, lifting your brows.

“Forty two,” he nodded confidently.

The camera man began to chuckle as he pulled a paper from his back pocket and looked it over. Your stomach flipped with anxiety, nausea swiftly gurgling up your esophagus. As he looked over the small card, his face began to fall and his eyebrows began to knit. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Yongguk’s grin returned as he looked from the camera man and back to you. “Is it forty two?”

“You didn’t even finish walking around!” the camera man gasped. “How did you...did you ask someone?”

“Nope,” Yongguk chuckled, shaking his head. He crossed his arms before leaning down toward you and whispering in your ear. “But I did read a summary of the booths online before I got here.”

Yongguk’s eyes danced across the skyline as his fingers busied themselves with fidgeting. His hands were intertwined with yours as you sat on a bench near a fountain placed at the outskirts of the market. Silence wasn’t intrusive or awkward with him, but easy. You both existed on the same plane, an unspoken connection that didn’t need to be elaborated with words. Sometimes it was just easy with certain people.

And it was easy with Yongguk.

“How has My Idol been for you so far?” he asked quietly, still not looking directly at you. “I hope it’s been kind.”

“It’s been interesting,” you chuckled. “”Kind” may not be my first descriptor though.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, finally looking down and gazing toward you. “The whole injury thing.”

“Right,” you sighed, glancing down at your cast. “Oh! Would you like to sign it?”

“Sure,” he nodded, allowing you to lift your injured leg to sit on his lap. “Do you have a pen?”

“No, but they do,” you hummed, motioning with your chin toward the camera men.

“We also have another mission,” the camera man croaked. “I’ll give you both.”

“Oh, how kind of you,” you spat, snatching both the permanent marker and red envelope from the overweight man.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” he grumbled, lifting the boom mic again.

“Yeah, well the messenger needs to get better with his timing,” you muttered, handing the marker to Yongguk. You ripped open the flap of the envelope and read the words within. “The truth about lies: Play two truths and a lie. Guess the lie incorrectly and suffer the penalty.”

“Sounds interesting,” Yongguk muttered, furrowing his brows as he focused on his task.

You chuckled as you leaned back, noticing that Yongguk was drawing a small bat around his initials. “Should I go first then?”

“Ladies first,” he nodded without looking up.

You crossed your arms and pursed your lips, considering all of your options. Selecting the truths was the easy bit...but what lie could possibly be good enough to be considered truth? “Okay...” you hummed with a short nod. “I’m not from Korea, I secretly aspire to own a dog cafe, and I’ve gone on more dates in the past month than I have in the past year.”

“And why do you not want to own your own dog cafe?” Yongguk chuckled without missing a beat.

“Hey! I could have dated a lot!” you gasped. “Why would you think that wasn’t the lie?”

He looked up from the wet ink on your cast and stared at you with brows lifted.

“It’s not that I don’t want to own my own dog cafe,” you muttered. “I’ve just never thought about it...”

“So I was right?” he laughed.

“Of course you were right,” you grumbled. “Now it’s your turn.”

Yongguk hissed a breath of air between his teeth before straightening out his back. In one swift motion he capped the marker and stretched his arms into the sky, shaking out his hands on their way back to his lap. “Two truths and a lie?”

You nodded, waiting patiently.

“Okay,” he hummed. His eyes scanned your cast, followed by the ground, and then back up to the sky. “One, I have an identical twin brother-”

“Truth,” you chuckled.

“Two, I once considered changing my stage name to Bang Pow,” he grinned.

“I really hope that’s the lie,” you whispered.

Yongguk chuckled as his eyes retreated from the sky and landed on yours. His focus was intense as he licked his lips and began to nod. “And three, although it sounds really silly...to hear this from an idol...

...i am unequivocally and undeniably scared of what this could develop to be.”

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mariequitecontrarie · 7 years

Text

All of Me: Chapter 11

The Fic: Belle French is a pudgy librarian who’s in love from afar with “town monster” and ace reporter, Mr. Gold. Little does she know, he’s head-over-heels in love with her, too. Chapter Summary: Belle deals with the fallout of her impromptu overnight stay at Gold's house when rumors about the town's newest couple begin to circulate. @beastlycheese prompted: “Could I prompt a scene where they deal with the abuse because of their size differences?” Thank You: Amazing beta who saves my life @magnoliatattoo! Happy Birthday, sweetie! Thanks also to @sarashouldbestudying for letting me pester her with Italian questions! Artwork: @wizzygold A/N: THANK YOU for voting All of Me Best Rumbelle Fic and Best Trend in The TEAs! I love you guys so much!

Stay with Me (between Ch 9 and 10)

{On AO3} {On FF}

“Judge tenderly, if you must. There is usually a side you have not heard, a story you know nothing about, and a battle waged that you are not having to fight.” ― Traci Lea LaRussa

Marco tossed fresh zucchini slices into a sizzling sauté pan and inhaled deeply. Was there a more comforting aroma in all the world than that of hot olive oil and garlic melting together? Bellissima! With a contented hum, he swiveled back to the cutting board to chop the rest of the vegetables for his lasagna bianca. He glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Madonna mia, it was two o’clock already! He rocked the knife against the board faster; he needed to hurry if he was going to have this batch ready in time for tonight’s first dinner reservations.

As he finished chopping the peppers, agitated footfalls sounded outside the door. Belle stormed into the kitchen, shoving the swinging kitchen door against the wall with a crash. Surprised to see her in the middle of the afternoon, Marco wiped his hands on his apron. “Buona giornata, Bella,” he greeted, then snapped his mouth shut at the mutinous expression on his sweet girl’s face.

“What’s so good about it?” She brushed past him and ducked into the refrigerator, emerging with the cassata cake he had prepared for tonight’s dessert special.

He watched her cut a large wedge and stomp to the booth in the back corner of the kitchen reserved for his staff to eat during their breaks. She plunked her slab of cake down on the table. Eyebrows raised, two of his waiters scurried out of her way, carrying their spaghetti lunches out the back door. He would have chuckled at their befuddled expressions, had Belle not looked so devastated. Her brow furrowed, marring her dewy skin as she glared at the cake in front of her.

“Something wrong, Bella?” He set down the chef’s knife and took a hesitant step in her direction. “You’re chasing my staff away.”

“I chase everyone away,” she said, chin wobbling as she rifled through bins of cutlery looking for a fork.

“Ridiculous.” He clucked at her, then brought over a fresh set of utensils and a starched napkin. “Anyone with any sense adores you. Is it Edith?”

“For once, she’s at the bottom half of my list of problems,” Belle shot back, then pressed her lips together as if she’d said too much.

“Che cavolo! What problems?” he asked, growing alarmed at the anguish in her voice.

“It’s nothing.” She smoothed the napkin over her lap, refusing to meet his eyes. “Don’t worry. Besides, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not Signore Gold?” Marco clenched a dishtowel. He liked Gold, thought he was a wonderful match for his sweet girl, but if Gold hurt his Bella, he would summon his ancestors to haunt the man’s dreams for the rest of his earthly days.

“No,” she said, her expression softening as tears filled her eyes. “It’s not Gold. And don’t go dragging him into all this!”

“Into all what? You say it’s nothing.” He shrugged, offended that Bella would think he couldn’t be trusted with a secret. He was no chiacchierone, but he didn’t object to employing a little well-meaning guilt. He was Italian, after all. “I’m just an old man who makes pasta. Who am I to get involved in your love life?”

“I mean it, Marco.” Belle suspended her fork in midair. “Don’t call him.”

Anger bubbled under his skin, not unlike the spicy marinara simmering on the stove. Everything had been going so well. Bella was surely, albeit slowly, finding love and building a future. But now she was once again closing herself off to the world for reasons she wouldn’t tell him. She needed the comfort and confidence of his friendship more than ever. Friendship…of course! He nearly smacked himself for being such an old fool.

“I promise not to call Signore Gold,” he said, crossing himself. And he meant it. He wouldn’t call Gold. He would call Emma. And then she could call Gold. There was more than one way to skin a cat, si?

“Please, Marco, I know you want to help. Could you just leave me alone for a little while, though?” Belle begged.

Her voice was hoarse and her eyes red-rimmed, like she would burst into tears at any moment. Marco struggled between what she wanted and what was best: being alone was the last thing she needed. That was Belle’s entire problem—she internalized every struggle, and hid herself away from other people. Then, alone in the dark, she consumed her demons’ weight in fudge instead of facing them.

“Si.” Marco nodded solemnly, and stepped quietly back from the table. Leaving Belle to her own counsel for the time being, he scurried out of the kitchen to the telephone behind the bar. He punched in the number for the Storybrooke Mirror, hoping that Emma would answer instead of Gold.

“Bella, she stormed into the restaurant and cut herself a fettona of cake," Marco confided when Emma answered his call.

“Fettona?” Emma paused on the line. “Is that a new flavor or something?”

"No. Come si dice....how do you say in English?” He gesticulated wildly, not that Emma could see his arms waving as he searched for the words. “Ah! Big piece of cake.”

"Oh! Yeah, I think I know what this is about,” Emma said. “And I can feel you wringing your hands. Don’t worry. I’ll be right there.”

Groaning, Marco hung up the phone and mopped beads of sweat off his brow with the corner of his apron. Turning out perfectly al dente pasta creations during the dinner rush was nothing compared to this stress.

Her stomach tightening, Belle toyed with a sliver of toasted almond on top of her cake. Everyone knew they were a couple now, and it was only a matter of time before Gold thought better of his decision to get involved with Belle French. Nice going, Belle. In less than forty-eight hours, she had lost her shiny new status as Gold’s girlfriend. She poked and prodded the offending morsel as her mind played the events of the past days on a sadistic loop.

The visit to Gold’s had been idyllic, until her father and Edith had arrived to humiliate her. After their abrupt departure, she and Gold had managed to salvage the rest of their morning together, finishing their breakfast without another mention of her parents.

Had the mechanic at the garage looked at her strangely? All Belle knew was that everything had been fine—until yesterday when she’d picked up her car and gone back to work.

Word of Belle’s overnight visit to Mr. Gold’s home had spread faster than the oil leak the garage had discovered beneath her broken-down car. How and where the rumors started didn’t really matter; from the sidewalk to the library to Granny’s, everyone stared at her and spoke in hushed tones. Since she’d arrived at work yesterday, her brain had tortured her with round after round of the dreaded game Guess What Is Everyone Saying?

“Did you hear that Belle French is sleeping with Mr. Gold from the newspaper? Yes! He’s more than twice her age. I knew she didn’t get along with her stepmother, but I didn’t realize she wanted to replace her father…that’s so creepy!”

“I wonder if such a little man could actually please a woman her size? You know they do say the bigger the cushion. I’ll bet he needs climbing gear to get up there!”

“What if she rolls over and crushes him in bed?”

Less than twenty-four hours after an innocent overnight stay, their fledgling relationship had become everyone’s business, if not in fact, then in her overwrought imagination. Fresh tears filled her eyes and she dropped her fork and buried her head in her hands.

The argument in Gold’s foyer with Edith. The deafening silence from her father. While she’d been with Gold, Edith had rifled through her room again. She hadn’t said anything to give herself away, but Belle had known by the subtle way her things were shifted around. Edith was a sloppy snooper. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Yesterday afternoon she’d escaped the library to eat a quiet lunch at Granny’s and come face-to-face with one of least favorite people.

When Belle looked up from her tuna melt and her dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice, Ashley Boyd, Sean’s girlfriend, was sliding into the seat across the booth. She frowned down at Belle’s basket of fries and wrinkled her nose. “Wow, Belle. How do you do it?”

“Excuse me?” Belle asked, annoyed by the interruption. Mr. Darcy was about to propose to Elizabeth Bennet for the first time and she was in no mood for pleasantries.

“How do you eat all that? I can’t eat a huge, sandwich filled with mayo and butter and cheese in the middle of the day.”

“Special talent,” Belle snapped back. “Pairs really well with the fried ravioli I had for breakfast.”

“It’s not only that,” Ashley simpered. “I mean, you’re so brave...dating a guy that's thinner than you. Thank God Sean can span my waist with his hands. I wish I had your courage, hon.”

“I wish I had yours,” Belle replied sweetly.

“Oh yeah?” Ashley looked confused.

“To date a guy another woman's already dumped. Now that takes moxy. As you can plainly see,” Belle gestured at herself, “the only seconds I like are the ones on my plate.”

Ashley stiffened, her eyes turning as cold as ice chips when it dawned on her that she’d been insulted.

Belle’s face had burned as Ashley stalked away, but her embarrassment was trumped by the satisfaction of finding her voice when confronted with someone horrible. I should not have said those things. She sighed—yesterday she'd managed to send doubt and regret on a brief holiday. Now they were back, and guilt had joined the party.

Then there was the scene she made at the library this morning.

Cordelia had pounced while Belle was trying to unload a shipment of new books before story hour. Bless her heart, she was positively effervescent—bubbling over about how handsome Mr. Gold is and pumping her for details on everything from their dinner to the movie they watched to what color and thread count the sheets were on Gold’s bed. Busy hefting crates of books and only half listening, Belle had grunted monosyllabic replies until Cordelia announced that if she were twenty years younger she would steal Gold away from Belle and marry him.

That had captured her attention.

“What do you mean, steal him away?” Seething, Belle rounded on Cordelia, her hands on her hips. Sweat was trickling down her back and between her breasts and her lungs were burning with exertion. She needed a snowball snack cake more than she needed her next breath, but she wasn’t letting that comment go.

Cordelia’s eyes widened. “Well, that is…I meant to say…if you don’t want him, dear…”

“You can keep your man-eating clutches to yourself. Gold is mine!” Belle bellowed at the top of her lungs.

Everyone in the library had turned to gawk at her, no doubt wondering why the head librarian was screaming at her assistant during quiet time.

It was simply all too much. She had ignored Cordelia’s sputtering apology, ripped open a packet of snowballs, shoved one in her mouth, and stomped back to her office.

If the rest of the town didn’t already know about Belle French dating Mr. Gold, well, they would now. It would be even more humiliating when he broke up with her for subjecting him to public embarrassment.

Belle startled when Emma Cassidy appeared at the kitchen door, forcing her out of her thoughts. She crossed her arms over her chest and arranged her face in a severe frown that she hoped said Do Not Disturb.

Failing to take the hint, Emma plopped down with her typical casual grace. She looked adorable in ripped jeans and a turquoise hoodie that brought out her green eyes.

Belle sighed, “Can no one read?”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Next time she wanted to hide in the back of the restaurant and eat all the cake, she would tell Marco not to let anyone disturb her. “I don’t think I'm great company right now, Emma.”

“Let me be the judge,” she said pleasantly, propping her elbows up on the table. “Your face is gonna freeze like that if you aren’t careful. So what's up?”

Apparently no one could read or hear.

Belle dragged the plate of cake back into fork’s reach. “I already told you—nothing.”

“Likely story.” Emma pointed at the slab of cassata cake. “Do you really want that?”

Belle snatched up her fork and pointed it at a threatening angle. “Now you're going to start on me too?”

“Nope.” Emma held up her hands, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Guilt trips aren’t my style.”

“You don’t have to do this. Pretend to be my friend.” Belle didn’t need or want Emma’s pity. She certainly didn’t need her judgment, or her well-intentioned-yet-insulting encouragement to make healthier choices.

The blood drained from Emma’s face and she sank back against the bench. “Oh, I see. You think this is all about you.”

“What?”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want to be your friend? That maybe I need one too? Look, forget it. I’ll go.” Visibly upset, Emma stood, struggling to shrug her jacket over her shoulders.

“Wait. Emma, please. I-I’m sorry.” Belle shoved the cake back to the center of the table. “Stay. I have cake,” she offered stupidly.

“You know, Belle,” Emma said, “that day we went shopping? I had so much fun. I thought you did too, and I was so happy to just spend some time doing, ya know, girl things.” Emma grew uncharacteristically sheepish as she played with the zipper on her red leather jacket. “I don’t have that—lots of friends. Sure, I have Neal, and Henry, and Dad, uh, Gold… but no one I can just grab coffee with or whine about periods or anything like that.” She smiled wistfully.

Belle felt the flush of shame overtake her face as she rose from the booth. Walking over to Emma, she placed a tentative hand on her arm.

“Emma, I am truly sorry,” Belle said in earnest. “You’re right, I was being selfish. You’ve been wonderful to me; your whole family has. I’m honored that you would call me a friend.” Smiling, Belle gestured to the booth. “I could use a friend to talk to and a cake-eating partner. Join me, please?”

Emma smiled broadly and tossed her jacket back on the bench, eyeing the cake. “Looks delicious. Besides, friends don’t let friends scarf Marco’s signature dessert alone. Got an extra fork?”

Relieved, Belle handed her the spoon from her cutlery set. “We may as well eat it all. I’m already out of Gold’s weight class.”

“It’s not a wrestling match, it’s a relationship!” Emma murmured around a mouthful. “Belle, ignore whatever crap that airhead Ashley was spouting and anyone else around town who’s blabbering. They’re jealous.”

“Ha! Jealous of what?” Belle dug into the cake and the smooth flavors and textures of rum-spiked custard, fluffy white cake, and chocolate filled her mouth. Why question people and their motivations when you could eat?

“Are you kidding? No one knows what to do with Dad. Beyond the business of running his newspaper, he keeps to himself besides you and us.” Emma dropped her voice and wiggled her eyebrows. “You've been in the beast's lair.”

Belle choked. “You did not just say that.”

“He’s so love-struck, you could strike a match to that ghastly mausoleum he calls a house and he’d probably thank you for it…wow, this cake is fantastic!” She turned around, looking for Marco, who was busy chopping and stirring, he and his sous chef speaking to one another in rapid-fire Italian. “Marco, what is in this?”

“Special, secret recipe,” he said, dramatically drawing his finger to his lips.

Belle rolled her eyes, and when she turned back to Emma she was grinning. “What?”

“Wipe the frosting off your nose, Belle,” she said, tossing her a clean napkin. “Your white knight has arrived.”

At once, Belle heard the familiar cadence of Gold’s cane tapping against the tile and shot Marco an accusing look. He looked down in a rush, pretending to busy himself by slicing a loaf of ciabatta bread.

“Before you freak out and shout at Marco, I’m the one who called Gold,” Emma admitted, sliding out of her seat to make way for him. Pulling on her jacket, she smiled brightly as she turned to leave. “Just no make-up sex on the table, okay guys? You don’t want to shut Marco down for code violations.” She laughed as she scurried from the kitchen.

Gold shook his head at his daughter-in-law’s retreating form. “I don’t know if I could put up with her if she weren’t so perfect for my son,” he quipped, sliding into the booth.

Belle stared at the vinyl gingham-printed tablecloth as Gold reached across the table for her hand. She was finding it nearly impossible to look him in the eyes, frightened that she would find only regret in their warm depths.

“Gold, I’m so, so sorry.” Belle trembled as she tried to get the words out.

“Belle, hey.” He pulled his hand back in confusion. “Talk to me,” he urged.

She pushed the cake aside, no longer hungry. The way his brow furrowed in concern clenched at her heart, squeezing until Belle lost control and tears began to stream down her face.

Wordlessly, Gold slid out from the opposite bench at the booth, and Belle was certain he was about to leave, but he edged in closer, settling himself beside her so they sat thigh-to-thigh.

Belle caught her breath. Being this close to him made her nerve endings trip like live wire. Here he was, dashingly dressed in his signature three piece suit, not a hair out of place, and smelling bloody fantastic. She lifted her face to his and attempted a brave smile, but faltered when she met his piercing gaze. He stared at her intently, searching her soul, and she was mesmerized by the tenderness in his eyes. Mercy, had they always been flecked with amber?

It wasn’t fair; he was completely at ease while she practically needed life support to sit next to him.

His lip twisted as he fought a smile. “So you broke Leroy’s Kline’s nose. Threw a book at his head.”

“Heard about that did you?” she said feebly.

“The library is right across the street from the paper.” He grinned, his white teeth flashing. “A bystander or two might have called in with an anonymous tip in the name of free press.”

“He was mean to you,” she reasoned, her neck prickling with renewed fury. “Calling you a hack. Saying that I was an awful person for…” Belle swallowed. “I didn't mean to break anything, but I suppose War and Peace is rather a heavy book.”

“Is that why you’re hiding from me, sweetheart?” He covered her hand with his. “Because of Leroy?”

Belle looked down. She didn’t have an answer. Not a good one, anyway. “Among other things,” she evaded. “You wouldn’t understand.”

A sweet smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “Try me.”

She shook her head. “No one wants to see us together.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he said calmly.

Incredulous, she stared at him. “Haven’t you heard? The things people are saying,” she clarified.

Before she could explain further, Gold’s warm, slightly calloused hand closed around the back of her neck, his long, elegant fingers catching a few locks of hair. He hauled her into his arms with a strength that caused a gasp to slip from her lips. Before she could draw breath, his mouth was covering hers, his warm lips gently massaging, tongue teasing her lips apart in a bid for entrance. Helpless to deny him anything, Belle sighed softly and opened like a flower thirsty for rain. The kiss was deep, passionate, and Belle paid no mind to the waiters coming and going through the kitchen, or to Marco or the sous chef stirring at the stove.

He pulled away, cradling her jaw in the palm of his hand. “Sweetheart, do you remember the day we met?”

###

Up Next: Flashback of how Belle and Gold first met.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #all of me #chubby belle #mqc writes

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