#these two are just too talented. I need to watch everything they've ever been in | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

electrasev5nwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Ninja Daily: AIC 29

"They're small."

Genma tried not to sigh at just how troubled Yamato sounded. "Yes," he agreed. He used his tongue to pin the senbon to the side of his mouth to make talking easier. "They're genin, buddy."

Yamato gave him a rebellious look. "I wasn't that small," he said in an undertone. His back hunched. They weren't talking loudly enough for the targets to notice, even if the genin were particularly sharp and realized they were being watched from a holey roof protecting grannies from the sun. It wasn't a particularly stealthy posting, but ninja were perched on just about everything in the area.

Genma rolled his eyes.

'I think he is confusing 'small' and 'helpless'. Either that or Uzumaki hit him over the head a few times.'

"I don't understand these young people."

Genma gave a sharp glance over to his companion to make sure that Yamato hadn't suddenly developed self awareness and a talent for voice acting, but no. That had been one of the elderly women below talking loudly. Maybe her hearing was going. Was there something a doctor could do for that?

'He should relax. These might be the safest kids in Konoha now. They've got the personal protection of the Mizukage, in addition to ANBU following them around.'

Maybe it was the weight of responsibility that ought to have rested on other shoulders. Hatake looked a lot smaller under a thin hospital sheet. Yamato was hovering over his squirts in some misplaced penance. He seemed to be laboring under the assumption that Now was the time the gates of hell would open and descend on everything Hatake had ever cared about, and Yamato was the only person watching the danger with wide eyes.

...twitchy kid. He really needed someone to look over him, but his only mentor figure was unconscious. So.

One of the ladies below was wondering how she could possibly get all her persimmons off the tree before they rotted. She wasn't agile enough to climb the ladder, and her grandson was off at some kind of school in Grass Country.

In contrast to Yamato's nerves-assigned personal mission for Kakashi's sake, Genma was watching the Yondaime's kid, now that his assigned jounin protector was out of action. There was going to be a lot more interest in dissecting Minato's personal relationships than there had been in almost a decade and a half. The information was going to come out. It was only a matter of time.

'Granted, anyone who tried to capture a kid as hostage and wound up holding a damn jinchuuriki is in for an unpleasant surprise.'

It was hard to imagine anyone wanting to take a jinchuuriki alive, but… apparently it was the kind of thing Uchiha Itachi had done.

Genma repressed a shiver and rocked back on his heels. Was this announcement going to start or what? Clearly he had too much time to think, if he was letting his mind wander to the terrifying ground of analyzing what Uchiha had been trying to do. He'd failed anyway. So whether his motivations mattered was for people in Intelligence to figure out, not nice normal jounin who wanted to be able to sleep at night.

The woman below whose persimmons might rot had a distinctive voice. He leaned over and matched the voice to a large tan hat obscuring any hint of the person below it. A real flower had been carefully tucked under the hat band.

Hat woman's conversational partner sounded like her neighbor. She was saying something uncomfortable and sympathetic, about how much work hat woman was doing lately. 'Oh, her husband died recently,' Genma realized from context. He frowned.

"It's starting." Yamato fidgeted. Despite his words, his eyes were trained on two genin standing shoulder-by-shoulder. Genma spared a glance up at the balcony where the Sandaime was coming out. He said a few words, promising exciting news.

Genma looked back to the kids.

Minato's boy was not quite as tall as his teammate, but he was standing straight. The clever little girl's feet were angled inward, but her hips and chest pointed toward her teammate.

'He cried', Genma remembered. 'When they took him from his sister in the hospital. I wonder if they bonded, or if he was just so overwhelmed he had a breakdown.'

But a day later, here he was, looking composed enough to offer his teammate support. Bluff, probably. The type of kid who wouldn't look vulnerable in public if he could do anything else.

The sound of a thousand bodies gasping at one revelation was a really weird experience. Genma was in a wind tunnel for one instant, and then it erupted into cries and cheers. A couple pockets of people started up a chant- Yon-dai-me, Yon-dai-me. It spread through the crowd. Genma mouthed along just once, caught in a flashback from a much better time.

Naruto's mouth was hanging open in wonder.

Something in him softened and really wanted to smile. Genma pulled the senbon out and whirled it through his fingers. "If that's how he looks now," he said in an undertone.

Yamato let out a huff. "Wait until he hears the other news?" he offered.

Genma nodded. Minato was going to tell the kid, for sure. Now that he had been vetted and was going to stick around, it would be difficult to keep him from his son. Minato was a fantastic shinobi, but he wasn't that cold.

"As of this time, there are no plans for Namikaze-san to retake his position as Hokage." The Sandaime's voice was strong and clear, aided by microphones. He went on before the crowd could be too confused by that. "He's missed a thing or two while he was away."

He got a laugh from the crowd for that. Genma glanced up to see Minato's yellow-headed figure making a sheepish wave and bow of acknowledgment. It played off well with the crowd. Of course it did, everyone liked a laugh and unexpected good news. Especially when the tone indicated it was going to go on. "I believe that Namikaze-san would like to have a word."

Minato stepped up, cutting a fine if distant figure from the Administration Tower. "Good morning."

It was bizarrely like being in school. Konohagakure reflexively echoed the greeting back.

Minato looked pleased by that. "It is good to be back. The village has changed in my absence. I look forward to getting to know it and you again. But now, I'd like to talk about my next priorities going forward from here. I have been very sorry to see the destruction that Orochimaru of the Sannin left recently. Konoha's strength, in producing some of the most powerful shinobi in the world, has been turned against us."

Solemn silence reigned.

"But now that's going to change!" He clapped his hands- god, Genma had forgotten that he did that to emphasize a point.

Genma hid a laugh in a cough as Minato folded his hands together and leaned forward. "That's why I am personally taking over a proactive approach regarding our missing nin. I am happy to announce some good news- two days ago, an ally of Konohagakure took out Uchiha Itachi. You may have heard that there is a new Mizukage- Uzumaki Aiko. That was nice of her, wasn't it?" He leaned back to allow the crowd to react. After the shocked silence- that was big news to just drop- came cheers at the announcement.

'The Mizukage,' Genma thought, 'is going to be so fucking pissed. It made it sound like she was acting on Konohagakure's interests.'

Yamato let air out between his teeth. It was hardly audible over whooping. "Uzumaki-san would probably have worded that announcement differently." His face was caught in a horrified amusement.

Genma considered the younger man. He was going to ask about Yamato's impressions of Kirikgakure's leadership, he decided. When they had a quiet moment.

"We have our friends in Kirigakure to thank for that," Minato said cheerfully. "That's a bounty I am glad to see paid off, because it means Konoha's people will sleep more safely. I'll be sending Kiri no Uzumaki Aiko the best money we ever spent." The crowd screamed again, because they were so worked up that they'd cheer for a sack of muddy cats if Minato said something nice about it.

Oh right, the bounty on Uchiha. How much was that? Probably a good chunk of change. The Daimyo had kicked in on it- it had been a big damn deal at the time and all that. Mass murder stirred strong feelings, especially when the hard reality of paying out that much money was so distant in the future.

"Our next goal, of course, is Sannin no Orochimaru. A three-country task force is being formed to bring him to task. Sunagakure is already in talks. An envoy is en route to Kirigakure as we speak. Together, we will bring him to task for his crimes against Konohagakure and the world."

'Whatever Minato did in the land of the dead, his oratory skills weren't getting rusty. He's hitting all the right notes. He's sounding a lot like a godsend to the village. Luck we would never have looked for, just when we need it most.'

Genma sighed and crouched down on the edge of the roof. He glanced over to the west observation point. Nothing was visible, but he held a hand up to the relief he knew was watching. Yamato gave him an alarmed look, but didn't question the request.

As the speech wound down and the crowd began very slowly to dissolve, an ANBU arrived.

"Afternoon," Genma said lazily. He nodded to Salamander. "Watch the kids. There's something Yamato and I have got to do."

The younger ANBU nodded and left on Naruto and Sakura's trail.

Yamato gave him a sharp look, straightening. "Mission?"

Genma smiled at him and walked off the edge of the roof. He waited until Yamato had landed beside him to find the widowed grandmother. She was absolutely tiny, maybe 140cm. She was half-hat. What the fuck was her grandson doing? No wonder she was talking loudly in public places about chores she needed done, she couldn't do them herself. At least she had good problem-solving skills. "Excuse me." He pulled out his most charming smile. "I hear you could use someone to pick fruit for you. My friend here would love to help you out." He gestured to Yamato.

"Oh, my." Her mouth stayed open just a little too long. "I wouldn't want to impose," she said. But she said it in the way that polite people try to reject help they actually want. A delighted smile pulled her face up, showing off capped teeth.

The younger man froze for just an instant, and then bowed. "It would be no trouble at all, ma'am. Is today alright for you?" His smile was more pained than sincere.

"Today?" She glanced to her neighbor. "I- that would be lovely. Thank you for your time." Grandma Hat seemed thrilled. "I'll make a little something to eat while you take down the fruit. What's your name?"

"Yamato, ma'am. This is Shiranui Genma." Yamato ducked a few more bows than he really needed to, flustered and polite. "May I ask..."

"Ikemoto Keiko, dear, but please call me Keiko." She sounded absolutely thrilled. Well, of course, her house was too empty.

He put his hands in his pockets and followed, letting Yamato stumble through conversation.

Every newspaper's front page was about Konohagakure. Objectively, Aiko agreed. A country announcing that their previous, wildly divisive leader was back from the dead was a good story. It was the kind of story you got to run literally once, because what the absolute fuck.She would lead with that too.

The articles about Kirigakure's official announcement of their new leadership and series of interviews were being pushed back into page 2.

"I'm not mad."Aiko batted at her desk with the newspaper, suddenly irritated by all the crap on it. A pencil case went flying and sent a spray of writing implements to smack into the wall. It was somewhat satisfying. Not enough. A thud would make her feel better. She slapped the papers down on her desk and sucked in a breath through her teeth.

It was a blow. It was a real, damaging, godawful blow to her attempt to rebrand Kirigakure. It didn't matter what she said if no one was listening. Being an after-thought was better than not being in the paper, but it was still such bullshit.

Utakata watched until the last pen had stopped rolling. Then he looked back at her.

She looked away from the stack of books she had been eying to narrow her eyes at him. Aiko crossed her legs at the knees and folded her arms. She dared him to comment. Just fucking try it, buddy.

"Of course not." He broke eye contact and settled back in his chair in a way that highlighted his truly excellent collarbones. "The timing has taken attention away from our announcement. Perhaps this is a benefit. It would be wise to focus on how we may expand our position in light of this circumstance."

"Is now the time for your theory about the evils of optimism?" Sanbi asked. He curled his tails up in the foreground of her mind. "Please regale him. I enjoy the outrage it provokes. He will make most satisfying sounds."

"Don't tell me to have a good attitude," Aiko said firmly. She pointed at Utakata, deliberately rude. "A moment to grieve lost chances is reasonable and you don't get to police my emotions. You should be upset when something doesn't go to plan. Obviously I can't let it make me less effective, but frustration at being thwarted only goes to show that I am passionate about my work, you rude fuck." She resisted the urge to punctuate that by tossing a folder at his head. Tsunade's explosive work habits were starting to make a troubling amount of sense to her.

Utakata examined his nails. "An innocent woman has never described herself as being thwarted."

"Who was talking about guilt and innocence? This attack on your character is irrelevant to the topic at hand."

'Damn right it is. I don't have time for that pettiness.'

"Assert your authority!"

Damn right. Aiko rolled her eyes at her friend. "Ugh." Then she scoffed for good measure, because Utakata still looked unimpressed. "Get the fuck out and don't come back until you're ready to pout with me. I refuse to be tricked into a good mood when I have to deal with Jiraiya this afternoon." She made a sharp, irritated motion gesturing at the door. "Fuck out my fucking office."

He actually laughed at her, the bastard. Utakata gracefully gathered his things in one motion and swept out of her office. She glowered at his back.

Sanbi hummed. The roar of his combative amusement was working down to a simmer, now that the encounter was over. "Did he win that?"

Aiko buried her face in her hands. "Yes," she said resentfully. "Because he gets to go with Gaara to meet the Suna-nin. And I have to go meet Jiraiya. He's going to ask me questions, and poke around, and have feelings."

"Could be worse," Sanbi mumbled comfortingly. "The shinobi of sand are… unsettling."

She thought about it- glassy eyes and cracking jaws and crevices opening wide to spit poison and metal. "I can't kill all the puppeteers," Aiko said.

Sanbi drew back in alarm. "I had actually not asked."

"I know." She rubbed at her face and then sat up. "I'm trying to convince myself."

He made a troubled sound and receded.

Aiko sighed. She leaned back and toyed with a paperclip, letting her eyes glaze over. Things could be worse. She had managed to check in with Obito last night when he stole away from Pein's gaze. Kisame had reported back to headquarters without Itachi's body. That meant he had either disposed of it, concealed it, or that Konoha had it. Probably Yamato had done something when she hadn't been looking- he was a good, loyal little ANBU.

But maybe not. Maybe Akatsuki really had recovered it.

She was a little troubled by the possibility that Pein and Kisame might revive Itachi and conceal it from Obito. Except, wait- once Obito had a chance to talk to Kisame in private he would know for certain. Pein wasn't loyal to Obito, but Kisame was.

Whatever. As long as Itachi stayed dead, she didn't care that much about where his corpse had ended up.

'I am kind of disappointed that his death didn't end the Tsukiyomi.'

Kakashi and Sasuke really weren't her problem, though. So she shouldn't focus on it, or the troubling feeling of guilt. It wasn't her fault at all that they had been attacked, of course. But it seemed fairly likely that a Rinnegan could trump through a sharingan illusion. If she was more competent, and willing to try, perhaps they would be saved weeks of suffering.

..The Tsukiyomi was an assault on mental health that neither of those two could afford, if she was to be honest. They were already kinda troubled.

And she, personally, had really not been a fan of the Tsukiyomi. 0/10, one of the worst things to have ever happened to her. It was up there with Sasori, and the time her brain was bleeding, and realizing that she was a fucking dead monster, a corpse walking with someone else's eyes in her skull. It was worse than realizing she was going fucking blind and that she could never go home, and that her family and friends were essentially fucking dead because she could never see them again. Only copies.

"Are you alright?"

She didn't like how small and gentle Sanbi's voice sounded. 'I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? Life is unbearably bleak sometimes but I'm sure it's that way for everyone.'

Whatever. The point was, helping Sasuke and Kakashi was someone else's problem. She picked a little bit of dirt out from under her fingernail and dropped it into the tiny trashcan under her desk.

At least it was Friday. She could feel office hours stretching to a close like it was a physical gate. She just needed to keep stumbling forward to meet her patriotic duty, and then she would have two days of only being on emergency call.

Aiko had meetings. She did paperwork. She sent a spy to infiltrate the Daimyo's court in Wave country. She put everything away and changed into clothes that looked a bit neater and more formal than her boots and shorts combination, so that she was ready to go when the grim news came that Jiraiya had been escorted to the meeting spot.

She stole a glance at herself in a store window as she walked the last block on foot. She had gone with tight-fitting black slacks, a clingy gray long-sleeved top, and a long, loose blue jacket that flowed with her movement.

...Aiko was big enough to admit that she had been channeling her dad and Tsunade in her sartorial choices when she had tried to look like a leader. The heels in particular were definitely Tsunade, but Jiraiya was just too fucking tall to go unchallenged.

'I look like a Hokage in a different color palette,' she thought, and wasn't entirely displeased by the thought.

It might have worked. Jiraiya took a deep breath when he saw her.

Aiko paused for a moment, a little uncomfortable with the way that Jiriaya was drinking in her features. There was a line on his brow and faint wonder in his eyes. He spent a full 3 seconds sweeping the curve of her jaw, the set of her nose, the shape of her eyes.

'I look a lot like my father, if you know to look for it.'

She saw him swallow.

"Mizukage-san." Jiraiya bobbed his head to her, like a pleasant idiot. He clattered forward. "Ne, you really made me look like a fool in Konoha. It's good to see you in your environment."

Aiko spared him a thin smile and gestured for him to enter ahead of her. "Jiraiya-san," she said politely. "Let's have coffee and discuss your stay here." He held open the curtain for her and then glanced into the dark room for the first time.

She saw his smile turn wry when he saw the place was deserted. The restaurant had been emptied- a single member of staff was in the kitchen, with a dozen of Kiri shinobi keeping watch around the building.

When he faltered, Aiko swept past him to take a seat. There was something intimidating about a large room with a single two-person table in the center. Utakata had probably thought of it, it looked like his style.

A chuunin swept out with a tray and a hard set to her mouth. She set down two coffees, sugar, and a pitcher of cream. She walked away without another word.

When Jiraiya raised an eyebrow at her, Aiko smiled pleasantly back. She didn't speak. A different shinobi came out, deposited cut persimmon and orange, and left.

Jiraiya let out a sigh and took the lid off the sugar. He dropped a single cube into his coffee and then pushed the dish to her. Aiko ignored it and mixed cream into her coffee. She kept her face distantly pleasant when she took a sip of her godawful bitter coffee, as if she was a madwoman who liked it that way.

"Why?" Sanbi asked.

'Just messing with him,' Aiko admitted. 'Iruka saw me put a gratuitous amount of sugar into my coffee before. They have so little information on me that the detail would definitely make it into my profile. Now Jiraiya will be wondering what my preference actually is, or perhaps if the sugar here is poisoned.'

"That seems unnecessary." Sanbi sounded approving.

'It can't hurt to divert his brainpower to the little things. Keep him off balance.'

Jiraiya stirred his coffee for a little longer than truly necessary, spoon clinking.

She smiled at him.

He smiled back and pretended to be drinking it.

'Joke's on him, this is high quality coffee.'

"I assume that you have spoken to my father." She tilted her head in a way that would highlight the sharp jaw she'd gotten from Minato.

Jiraiya blinked at the statement. He took a moment to answer. "Yes." He inhaled slowly. "That was..." he glanced at her and looked fond. Vulnerable. "Perhaps I should be less surprised. I hear that you are a master of fuinjutsu. And I…."

"You're not my godfather," Aiko said bluntly. She watched the way Jiraiya's hopeful face froze. "You have never known me, and I am not going to be manipulated into giving you concession and kindness that I would owe to my family. Do me the service of believing I am intelligent enough to know that you are manipulating me." She leaned back and muttered, "Or trying to, anyway."

He gave one small, silent laugh, and the side of his mouth curled up to show teeth. "Saa, it was worth a try, wasn't it?" Jiraiya rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Of course it was. And it might have been enjoyable for me to pretend that it was working. But I'm not interested in playing that game." Aiko balanced her right foot on the toes and stretched forward, flexing the ankle. Her left was still tucked under her chair. "I don't have endless time and energy for shenanigans. I'm engaged in quite enough already."

"Oh?" he prompted.

She shot him an amused smile, because he really was predictable. "Oh, nothing. Just spreading crime and mayhem across the continent. In any case." Aiko shook her hair out. "You have come to ask questions on behalf of the Sandaime Hokage. Is this correct?"

Jiraiya splayed his palms out and then leaned back into a slouch. "You got me," he said cheerfully. "I'm working. But it's such a shame to spend my time with such a lovely young lady engaged in painful mundanities, isn't it? Let's do something else. Did you ever find that bikini?"

She gave him her most unimpressed look.

He just grinned back at her obnoxiously. "The bikini is optional," he purred. "I'm dying of the heat in here, aren't you?" He tugged at his collar. She considered having him arrested, just out of spite.

"That is inappropriate," Sanbi said. It came out half a question. "All- everything about that in tone and implication was- it was-"

'He's mocking me,' Aiko confirmed. 'I started the conversation by claiming there is no familial or mentor relationship between us. So he is taking it to the logical inverse, where I am a near-stranger who may be treated as any other he meets. If I rebuff his flirtations as inappropriate due to our relationship, he will argue that I lied when I said our relationship in my universe is not relevant here. If I react to his harassment along the usual lines that strangers do, then he will find it easy to fall back on his arsenal of rhetoric to keep me off-guard and irritated to play into his hands. However I rebuff him, he will have easy recourse to manipulate me.'

Sanbi took a moment to think that over. "I would not have assumed this one had that cleverness. Are you certain this is the case? Perhaps he truly is a fool."

'His rhetorical genius grows exponentially when there is an opportunity to be obnoxious.'

Aiko glanced at the kitchen door. No more snacks ought to be coming for a while… She considered it.

'I bet anything that it's a bluff. He hasn't had the time to get used to this that I have, and he won't be emotionally separated from Minato. He considers me a relation. I have leverage that most people don't when faced with this manipulation.'

She gave Jiraiya the most dangerous smile in her arsenal. "It is hot in here, isn't it?"

"Aiko, no," Sanbi said, horrified.

'I'm calling him on it. If I let him think he can bother me with crude implications, he'll keep the tactic. I need to make him so uncomfortable that he won't try it again.'

Jiraiya's face absolutely froze when she pushed her jacket down her shoulders and shrugged out of it. She lifted it delicately and let the silk pool on the tabletop. Something ticked in his jaw when she lifted her shirt over her head. Aiko took the time to fold it. Jiraiya waited until he absolutely knew she wasn't bluffing about unwrapping the bandages around her chest to throw up a hand and grimace. "Okay!"

Aiko ticked her head to the side and played with the end of the bandage that was the only thing left over her sports bra. "Hmm?" Her tone was so innocent that it rounded back to dangerous.

"Alright," Jiraiya said, disgusted. He looked away and scoffed. "I don't want to see that. You're still Minato's kid. What is wrong with you?"

Aiko let the sides of her lips play up in a smug smile. She tucked the end of her wrappings back in. "If you're certain," she purred. She took her time to put the shirt back on. "How funny you are. I don't say things I don't mean, so I missed the joke entirely."

He glanced back at her now that she was decent and grimaced.

"It worked," Sanbi said. He sounded bemused.

'I do know him well,' Aiko pointed out. 'He has had very little divergence from the Jiraiya who I knew. And now he's gonna listen when I talk.'

Sanbi made a soft 'huh' sound.

Jiraiya took up his coffee cup and pretended to finish it. She didn't know how he was disposing of it, but Aiko was certain that he was not drinking it. He sat the china down with a clink. "That was delicious, thank you." He gave her a too-wide grin. Almost like he was eager to put that conversation behind him or something. How odd.

"There is a method," Sanbi said. He sounded like it was a revelation, but she didn't have time to sort through it now.

She made a noncommittal hum and leaned forward to snag the sugar tray. "I think it's a little bitter." She dropped five cubes into her coffee, channeled heat through her fingertips into the cup, and then stirred delicately. She kept eye contact while she lifted it to her mouth and sipped away, making it very obvious that she was in fact consuming the sugared coffee.

He didn't twitch, even when the door opened.

"Mizukage-sama."

Aiko raised a hand in acknowledgment and wondered what it would take to make Utakata that polite when no outsiders were watching. A lot more money than she had, that was for sure. "Yes?"

Utakata gave a smile that she read as very, very tense. "Forgive me, but there is a matter in need of your attention." He didn't look directly at Jiraiya.

"Ah." She nodded at him. "Thank you. You may go now." While Utakata bowed his way out, she pursed her lips.

'Either something godawful has happened, or he thinks I need a rescue from Jiriaya.'

Well.

"Can I be of any assistance?" Jiraiya showed off his straight, white teeth. "I am at your disposal."

She eyed him. Of course he was. He didn't want to leave until he had his answers, which meant she could put him off for a while and keep him in town. Did she want that? If she gave him information immediately, he wouldn't leave, but he would pretend to.

Sneaky bastard.

It was better to know where he was.

"Thank you, that's quite generous." Aiko felt her smile grow as she had an absolutely delicious thought. "There is something that you could be of assistance with. I have recently given a ninjutsu project to my students. I'll tell Yuusaku to expect your help tomorrow."

Jiriaya liked gardening, right? He liked kids for sure. He'd definitely like gardening with an Academy class.

"In the meantime- we have actually been working on a residence for Konoha's representatives, but it isn't quite finished," Aiko apologized. "For the night you will be in temporary accommodation, but tomorrow we can show you to the permanent quarters."

"Where I'll see the other Konoha diplomat, I assume?" Jiraiya really did look clueless and pleasant when he smiled. It was a dangerous technique.

"We haven't killed him," Aiko confirmed pleasantly, because that was what was actually going on. "We are very friendly these days, here in Kirigakure. Tomorrow my secretary will come to take your questions in writing. You can expect her at 8:25." She stood and tossed hair over her shoulder. "Have a lovely evening."

Jiraiya toasted her with an apple. "Thanks, you too."

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #clarity #AIC #Aiko in Canon

6 notes · View notes

becauseimanicequeen · 1 year ago

Text

Pride Month Watch: Mama Gogo (ep 9-10)

My thoughts on episodes 1-4, episodes 5-7, and episode 8.

I'm currently going through my Pride Month Watch List and Mama Gogo is on my list of shows/films I haven't watched before but have wanted to get to.

It feels like things are about to fall apart bit by bit, and I'm here for the ride because I'm sure that Annie will fight with everything she has if it does (it most likely will).

Let's dive into the 9th episode!

Did Auto just…

Walk into enemy territory?

He’s there to be a spy, right? There is no fucking way I’ll believe this pretty thief would stab Annie in the back like that and work for her enemy willingly. I mean, Annie even bailed him out after the drug setup thing…

I don’t care if I’m getting into delulu territory, my ass is firmly placed in this clown car! You will not trick me into believing Auto is shady. I refuse to believe it!

This…

Is exactly why I don’t believe he's there to join Annie’s enemy. Just saying...

At least Annie saw how talented Auto was:

And I love that she’s standing up for him against Choke (even though he fucking robbed her in the beginning!) since Choke is too narrow-minded and hot-headed to not drop his animosity for Auto.

Will Choke turn out to be right in the end? Maybe. Will Annie get burned for her willingness to trust Auto? Maybe. But I honestly think Auto just needs someone to believe in him (which Annie does). And I don't think Auto will willingly piss on that.

I love Annie so much…

She knows this is a team effort. One for all and all for one. She’s the best boss/big sister/friend these boys could ever have asked for. I love Team Annie so much!

Dude!

She’s not old. And she definitely didn’t trick Chen to go out with her. Can’t you see how whipped he is?

The way I smile like a fool when I see these two:

I love them individually and I love them together.

You can’t convince me he’s not whipped…

It’s palpable.

Okay…

Let’s see how loyal the boys are to Annie and how many will fall for Tina’s tricks. Please, don’t disappoint me.

Of course, there would be something…

To make the one who is most loyal to Annie waver. Considering he would do anything for his daughter (as he should), he might be the first to quit. And if he quits, this whole thing falls apart.

Damn, I really wanted to keep rooting for my pretty thief (Auto). I’m still in my clown car believing he's not really working for Tina, but it’s getting harder defending him, lol.

Finally...

And look at this baby gangster:

He's so silly and I love him for it.

Look at this beautiful woman in purple:

And the fact that her earrings are yellow! (And the weights in the background.)

Oh, lord. She's vibrant in those contrasting colors! The colors are doing things to me, lol.

Your honor! I fucking love this woman!

The way she delivered those words with such a sweet tone and innocent face... She's my queen and I will love her until the end of my days.

You know, for a woman I don't really like...

I can't believe I'm relating to her. At least she has perspective and priorities. That's always something.

The fact that they're emphasizing that Chen's mom absolutely doesn't want Chen to know about this is opening up to someone using this against Annie, doesn't it? Will Tina find out somehow and use it against Annie? Let's see...

Wait...

Yes you can. Loyalty doesn't necessarily mean working at Mama Gogo for the rest of your lives. It just means having Annie's back and not betraying her trust. Gayu can take Tina's money to follow his dreams and still be loyal to Annie. Just talk to her about it. Doing it behind her back, though. That's disloyalty.

She might be upset (which she has every right to be). But she might also be supportive since she is just as loyal to them as they've been to her.

Please don't do any of this shit behind her back. Just be honest. Talk to her.

Btw...

Real, mature adults know to apologize when they've been/done wrong. Another reason for me to love Annie with every cell of my being.

The way Annie stands up for Yuth...

If anyone doubted her loyalty to her boys, they were dead wrong.

I just...

Love them all so much.

And then it was shattered...

I almost cried during this scene.

Like I mentioned before, if he'd just talked to Annie, she probably would've been fine with it. But hearing it from someone else... That feels like a betrayal.

Annie still took it like a champion. She hurt, but the show must go on. They had a packed club and work to be done. No point in wallowing in this shit.

And then it just got worse...

It's obvious that he would find this out sooner or later since secrets like this tend to come out. But I'm glad he found out like this rather than Tina using this info against Annie.

Let's see how they will work this out (because I'm sure they will). It will be hilarious if Chen's mom convinces him to make up with Annie after being against her and Chen's relationship this whole time. But I feel like she has a different perspective of Annie now, so it's possible.

I've reached the image limit again... So, let's start a new post!

#mama gogo #mama gogo the series #thai series #ice queen's pride month watch #pride month watch #my shit

1 note · View note

bireggiemantle · 2 years ago

Text

hiiii everybody I think now is as good a time as ever to say that I've begun writing a brokeback mountain inspired archiereggie slowburn fic. it's told from archies perspective about him coming to terms with his sexuality, pursuing a relationship with reggie, and exploring the fallout of that. I've only written the first short scene so far, but I figured I'd post it to gauge interest and see what y'all think :)

He'd be lying if he said Betty didn't look beautiful in the glow of the moonlight, with the way the streaks of pale blue weaved their way between the strands of her blonde hair, but Archie can't help but feel the pit at the center of his stomach grow larger and heavier everytime she smiles.

He loves Betty. She's his friend, his companion, the only person he thinks to turn to in a time of need. And her bright smile is usually a sign of comfort for him. It means a warm embrace is coming, or a reassuring speech, but tonight, in the front seat of his car, that smile feels like a death sentence.

It's nearing the end of their date, the smell of Pop's still lingering in the air, and they've made their way to Makeout Point. It's the natural progression of things, really. A date should start with a gentleman handing over his jacket and whisking his lady off to a magical world of movies and milkshakes before ending with a few discreet kisses at the edge of a cliff.

Betty knows this. It's why she keeps leaning towards him, batting her eyelashes as she unbuttons the top of her blouse. Archie knows this too. It's why he keeps sinking further into his seat and crossing his legs.

And finally, somehow, Betty seems to take the hint.

"Archie, is something wrong?" She places a gentle hand on his forearm and frowns. "Am I rushing things for you?"

"What? Betty, no, everything's spiffy. I'm just nervous for tomorrow's big game. You know how Stonewall Prep plays."

She nods, giving his arm a small squeeze before letting go completely. The expression in her face is hard to read, though her lips are pursed rather tightly. Her eyes drift across Archie, as if she were analyzing him. It makes Archie feel transparent, as if all his innermost thoughts and feelings were there for her to see and dissect as she pleases.

Archie draws his bottom lip between his teeth and drops eye contact with Betty, but he immediately feels her sit up straighter in response. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was just as uncomfortable as him.

"They certainly are a talented team, and a mean one at that, but I've seen you play too, Arch. You're not too shabby yourself." Betty offers him another smile, duller and hollower than the last, and Archie manages to reciprocate this time, even if it's only slightly.

"Well," she continues, smoothing out the wrinkles in her pleated skirt, "should we get going?"

"Yeah, I uh, I think so." He watches her fasten her blouse from the corner of his eye, waiting a moment before he starts the car. If this were happening only a month ago, Archie would practically be jumping out of his seat towards her, but it seems like that ship has sailed.

Maybe he and Betty were never meant to be. Mrs. Cooper didn't like him anyways, and he'd much rather have the dirty looks cast between mailboxes than across the dinner table.

The drive home is silent, and the air between them feels tense. Every few seconds Archie can feel her gaze settle on him before darting right back to the road in front of them. Her hands are nestled between her thighs, fingers interlaced, and, while sitting at a stop sign, Archie notices two crescent shaped red marks on the skin where her thumbs are resting. He doesn't bring it up. She doesn't bring it up. It's just easier if they both avoid it.

Typically Betty would be the one to place a chaste kiss on Archie's cheek during their goodnight exchange, but tonight Archie makes the movie before she can. It's been a bizarre date, and he's worried about what Betty must think, so he hopes the kiss can offer her even a little comfort. It's not much, but it's a sign that he still likes her, that he still cares about her, that he's still attracted to her, and he hopes that a little can go a long way in situations like these.

"I had a nice time tonight." Betty says. She clutches her purse with two hands. "You were right about Rear Window. I think I have a soft spot for mysteries."

"You should thank Veronica. She's the one that suggested it." And a million other pictures at that.

Betty laughs. "I thought so. She's been telling me to see it since the day it came out. But I hate going to the movies alone."

"Well, if you're ever looking for a partner-"

"I'll know who to ask." Betty interrupts. She untangles one hand from the handle of her bag and places it on Archie's right cheek. "Goodnight, Arch, and goodluck." Her fingertips brush the curve of his jawline as she pulls away.

"Goodnight Betty. I'll see you tomorrow." It's less of a statement and more of a question, a prayer that he hasn't completely ruined their friendship, and from Betty's reply, he can tell she hears him.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

#betty cooper #archie andrews #Reggie mantle #mine #my writing #riverdale

23 notes · View notes

usermischief · 3 years ago

Text

♞Pairing: Steo ♞Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Liam Dunbar, Lydia Martin ♞Warnings: - ♞Words: 2163 ♞Prompt: Liam is protective over Stiles whenever Theo is around.

ao3

a/n: I lost the original ask 🙃 But hey, anon, this is for you!

---

“Okay, can you stop with the—” Stiles gestures in the direction of Lydia’s face, narrowing his eyes slightly “— the judgmental expression? It’s getting on my nerves.” And his poor nerves have certainly seen better days.

Lydia merely huffs out a breath and crosses her arms on the table. Just because she's hiding her eyes behind oversized sunglasses doesn't mean Stiles didn't notice her eyes boring into his soul. It's nothing new. She's been staring at him for the past week as if her judgement would somehow make him change his mind.

Stiles thought they all agreed on giving Theo a chance without the option of allowing him to get into his pants — or his head. Neither will be good for anybody. Theo is a little too talented at getting into his head, mostly because he’s way too accepting of the darkness lurking just underneath his skin. It’s what makes him infuriatingly appealing. It’s what makes Stiles want to give in. However, Theo’s made sure Stiles knows why he’s come back, or rather, who he’s come back for. It’s easy to believe him. Trusting that he has changed his mind after everything that happened, that’s the real issue.

But Stiles isn’t here because he’s part of the pack. Stiles isn’t here because he’s a member of any pack in Beacon Hills. He’s here because Scott needs leverage over Theo, and he isn’t even trying to be subtle about it. Stiles agreed to come here to keep the peace. If they work together, they are capable of making sure the town is protected. As much as he hates Beacon Hills, it’s his home, his father’s home, and the home of people he cares about.

At this point, having Theo on their side has more advantages than disadvantages.

He props his chin on his hand, watching Scott pace back and forth while Theo is standing his ground, arms crossed over his chest. The posture and black v-neck make him look hotter than he’s got any right to be — it makes him look more like an alpha than Scott could ever be. It’s ridiculous.

It’s fucking ridiculous.

“You’re staring,” Lydia informs him.

Stiles all but jumps to his feet. “I need another coffee.” He snatches his empty cup, glancing one more time in Theo’s direction — this time, the chimera is looking back at him. Judging by the smirk, he’s very much not listening to anything Scott is telling him right now. Stiles hates how it gets to him.

Because it shouldn’t.

Huffing out a breath, Stiles slips into the McCall house. Liam and Mason are looking at him then back outside before putting their heads together again. Stiles has no clue what these two are planning — at this point he’s too scared to ask because they've been doing it for weeks — but they’re better company than Lydia recently because they are not trying to make him realise that dating Theo could actually be a good thing. Because it’s not. Not at all. He loves Lydia, he really does, but sometimes he wished she’d shut up about Theo. The fact that she’s a hopeless romantic is fucking obscure. The world is not a fucking Disney movie. She, out of all people, should know that. Love doesn’t magically fix everything and nothing is solved by the power of friendship. People lie, even to those they claim to love — and sometimes an apology doesn’t glue the trust back together that’s been shattered into a thousand pieces.

Life just doesn’t work that way.

He walks into the kitchen, narrowing his eyes slightly at the sight of the almost empty coffee pot. If he’s lucky, he’ll get half a cup out of that. Beautiful. Mason and Liam had one job. Just one.

And yet.

Stiles agreed to come to this stupid meeting, knowing full well he’s just here as bait to lure Theo into agreeing with everything. It’s not going to work. Theo isn’t stupid, and he knows most likely better than anyone else that this is nothing more than a charade. He’ll play along until he gets bored or reaches whatever goal he’s got in mind. The consequences of either outcome are a little scary to think about.

All he asked for was not having to talk to the chimera and a never-ending supply of coffee. Is that too much to ask for?

“I doubt the coffee pot will magically refill itself by glaring at it.”

“Please,” Stiles whispers, closing his eyes, and takes a deep breath, “shut up.” Being with Theo in one room may not be the last thing he needs right now, but it’s certainly pretty close to it. There are too many people in his head, attempting to tell him that he’s been right about Theo’s motives, but now he’s wrong because now there are feelings involved.

Whatever those feelings may be.

Stiles is pretty certain not a single person in this house had a conversation that really mattered with Theo. He spent hours in a car with Theo. He was the one who ran around Eichen House trying to find Lydia with Theo. He was the one who was allowed a glimpse behind the curtain. If anybody here knows how Theo truly ticks, it’s Stiles — and he really doesn’t need anybody to tell him otherwise.

“I’m just saying,” Theo mutters, and to Stiles’ delight, he does sound a bit annoyed, “I came here in hopes to find coffee because it seems like Scott is trying to talk me into a coma.”

That wouldn’t be the first time. Stiles runs a hand over the back of his nose. “You could just agree with him.” That way, they could all go their different ways and Beacon Hills would be more or less protected from whatever madness is army-crawling their way towards them right this very second.

“I will,” Theo agrees, reaching for the coffee pot still in Stiles’ hands. “For the right incentive.”

Stiles opens his eyes as fingertips carefully brush over his skin. It’s easy to forget how soft Theo’s hands can be — so much softer than you’d think from someone who rips other people’s throat out like it’s nothing. They’re also still touching. Because Theo didn’t pull his hands away, and he certainly didn’t take the coffee pot. Stiles doubts this has been his intention in the first place. Biting his bottom lip, he looks up and meets Theo’s eyes.

Fuck.

Theo’s smile causes his eyes to crinkle just a little. They’re bright too. His whole expression is painfully soft, and Stiles hates it. So much. So much more than he can put into words. Because Stiles has carved himself a place in this world, a place for after the McCall pack. He is still close to Lydia, Liam continues to care for him in a way that's not entirely unlike a brother, Kira remains his friend, but overall, Stiles is alone. He's accepted this part of himself, the darkness he cannot quite suppress — not after what happened to Donovan. After the initial shock of being without a pack, Stiles found a place for him in the shadows of Beacon Hills. He's content there. He's okay.

Theo's smile, however, is a promise to belong somewhere exactly the way he is; flawed and dangerous, loyal yet distrustful, ready to do what's necessary. Still, Stiles doesn't trust Theo, not entirely, not the way he should in order to join him or his pack. His words play on repeat. I came for Void Stiles. It doesn’t leave him alone. The words. The thought. The fact that Theo, despite offering him a place, didn’t come back for him. He came back for a version of himself Stiles will never become again. The nogitsune is gone forever.

And it’s going to stay gone.

“Stiles,” Liam pops into the kitchen, eyes narrowing immediately when he spots them standing close together. This isn’t the first time it happened, so Liam’s reaction is as predictable as they come. Within the blink of an eye, the young wolf is right next to him. His glare is fixed on Theo, and the low rumble in his chest has Theo chuckling.

He pulls his hands away, however, and crosses his arms. “What?”

“You know what.”

While Liam is glaring at Theo, and Theo is regarding the other boy with distinct amusement, Stiles decides he should probably busy himself with making coffee. This is a bomb waiting for a fuse, and Stiles is not going to be the one to light it. He will stay far, far away from this mess. The last thing he needs is being in the middle of whatever war these two have going on.

“Leave him alone,” Liam orders in a low voice.

Theo scoffs. To no surprise. Out of everyone here, Theo would be the last person anybody is able to boss around. Maybe it’s pride, or perhaps he’s just insanely stubborn; alpha or no alpha, Theo doesn’t listen to anybody.

Shutting the water off, Stiles studies the coffee pot.

No, that’s not entirely true.

“Stiles?”

Fuck.

“I said you should leave,” Liam interjects, and Stiles wonders if he knew the influence Theo and Stiles have on each other. It wouldn’t come as a surprise. Liam sees more than he lets on, and since Theo isn’t exactly trying to keep whatever is going on between them under wraps, Liam most definitely knows something. Just like Lydia does. At least, Liam isn’t fucking annoying about it.

Theo lets out an audible breath. “I’m pretty sure Stiles can make decisions for himself,” he says in a low voice, sounding actually angry for the first time in a while. “Once he stops hiding behind the coffee pot.”

Huffing, Stiles puts the pot down and turns around. “What?”

Theo holds his gaze, expression now very guarded. “Do you want me to go?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll go if you want me to.” There’s a poignant pause, one that hangs very heavy in the air. “And I’ll stay gone.” For good. The words are poison between them, making it suddenly very hard to breathe or even think.

Despite knowing that this moment would come eventually, Stiles really hoped he’d have a lot more time. But it’s not like he can drag Theo along forever. He will have to give at one point, and if he doesn’t do it now—

“Stiles,” Theo whispers, all the heat gone from his tone, “do you want me to leave?”

Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat. They’re both looking at him, quietly, almost judgemental in Liam’s case. Stiles never bothered to be unreadable, but he certainly doesn’t enjoy being an open book. He really wishes his lack of response could be read any other way than what it means. Pressing his lips together, Stiles runs a finger along the edge of the coffee pot. “You know—”

Theo cuts him off, “I wanna hear you say it.”

Stiles licks his lips. “Don’t—” the words get stuck in his throat. This is going to be a decision that will change his life. It’s a scary thought. Having Liam and Theo stare at him doesn’t make it any fucking easier either. He crosses his arms over his chest and pulls his shoulders up. “Don’t go.” On a second try, the words roll over his tongue so much easier than he expected.

“What?” Liam widens his eyes.

“Okay,” Theo says, lips curling into a small smile. “I’ll stay.”

Liam’s head whips around. For a moment, he’s staring at Theo without saying a single word. Then he takes a step forward, getting right in Theo’s highly amused face. “Break his heart, and I’ll mail yours to the first wendigo I can find as a Christmas present.”

Theo raises his brows and his gaze flicks from Liam to Stiles and back again. Although he doesn’t step back — after all, he’s never been one to back down from a challenge — he does seem to take Liam’s threat seriously enough. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better, Raeken.” After one more not particularly thrilled look shot in Stiles’ direction, Liam turns on his heels and stalks out of the kitchen. It’s not too surprising that Liam isn’t jumping for joy after the shit Theo’s pulled.

Stiles curls his fingers into his sweater, eyeing Theo a little warily. The world has not yet burned down, so perhaps this was the right decision to make. “What happens now?”

“I’d like to get out of here.” Theo offers his hand, smiling a way that makes Stiles’ heart and resolve melt so much faster than he’d like to admit. Everything it took was an ultimatum, everything it took was Theo telling him he would leave if Stiles told him to. But a life without Theo in it just doesn’t seem to be possible.

It’s something Stiles doesn’t even want to imagine.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles grabs Theo’s hand. “Yeah,” he says softly, “let’s get out of here.”

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #stiles x theo #theo x stiles #*tv:teen wolf #*w:complete #*s:steo

47 notes · View notes

youbloodymadgenius · 4 years ago

Text

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 4

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 2877

Additional note: This is the final chapter. There'll be an epilogue, but you'll have to wait a bit because there are a lot of challenges I've signed up for and I'm way behind schedule.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

Devastated and angry at the world. That's how Ivar is feeling.

Holed up in his room since the night before, and despite Lagertha incessant requests, he doesn’t plan to come out, not now at least. Come to think of it, he might as well decide never to leave his room again.

He can't stand the idea of facing his brothers. He doesn't want to have to tell them about his failure. He doesn't want to endure Ubbe's pity and condescendence. He doesn't want to see the look of triumph on Sigurd's face. The thought makes his stomach lurch while at the same time a murderous urge creeps into his mind. No, he definitely can't see his brothers.

Surprisingly, and unlike Lagertha, his brothers have left him alone, as if sensing that entering his room would be as moving into a minefield. Only Hvitserk had taken a chance earlier, cautiously poking his head through the door. His disapproving look obvious when his eyes had taken in the scene before him, Ivar's belongings scattered on the floor, some of them smashed into pieces.

"I got you a chocolate muffin from the kitchen, baby bro," he had explained, putting it on a nearby shelf, and it had almost brought a smile to Ivar's face. To Hvitserk, there's no predicament that can't be improved with comfort food.

"Look, Ivar," scratching his neck, Hvitserk had then said, "I don't know what happened and I don't want to pressure you. You tell me when you're ready, if you are. But I'm here, okay? Whatever the time of day or night, you don't have to be alone if you don't want to. If I'm upstairs, just call me, okay?" With these words, he was gone, the door closed.

Ivar can't get the events of the previous evening out of his mind. Like a waking nightmare, they are playing over and over in his head: how he had freaked out when he heard the beeps; the confused and then so disappointed look you had given him when he sputtered his need to leave; finally, his shameful escape into the night.

What could he have done? What should he have done?

He does know the answer. He should have been more cautious. He should have checked the time, asked for your number and just walked away.

On the other hand, what difference would it have made? He would still have no future with you, right? He would still be a cripple, and you would still be... you... perfect... too good for him.

So yeah, he had run away like a coward. He lets out a bitter chuckle to himself. Run away? Who is he kidding? He hadn't run away, that would have been too easy. Cripples don't run away. Without his cane – why the fuck did he leave it behind?? – he had pathetically limped away, stumbling, his feet sinking into the sand. He had still been on the beach when the battery had died. He had had no other choice but to crawl like a worm the rest of the way, silently praying to the gods that the darkness of the night would prevent you from seeing him like this.

Tears of despair run down his cheeks for the umpteenth time. He's used to feeling humiliated, but feeling humiliated and heartbroken simultaneously is really too much to take. He feels like he's dying from the inside over and over again, cursing himself for wanting to attend the party, for wanting to see you again. He should never have let his walls down, he should never have dared to hope. What was he thinking? He may have walked, and even danced with you, but at the end of the day, he still is a pitiable cripple with stupid, crooked legs, in love with a girl way out of his league.

If he's being honest, that's what hurts the most. He now realizes how delusional he had been. Holding on to a dead dream for years, he had not forseen the painful yet unavoidable reality check. And now, it's like he's been hit by a train. Because there's no denying it, dreaming of a life with you is no longer an option, not after last night. And even though it's almost unbearable, he knows now he has to let go of you, of the idea of you and him being together. As much as this mere thought is devastating, he has no other choice. He has to stop fooling himself, for his own sanity, if nothing else.

Giving a guttural cry, much like that of a wounded animal, Ivar doesn't hear when the front doorbell rings. Not that he would have reacted even if he had heard it, too busy wallowing in self-pity.

***

"Thank you for having us here on such short notice, my dear." Your uncle states joyfully, his eyes sparkling, as Lagertha greets him with a handshake and a tight-lipped smile. Even though you don't know why, it's obvious that she's not his biggest fan.

Your uncle, who doesn't seem to notice – or doesn't care, you're not sure – keeps giving her a beaming smile. "My niece here," he turns his head toward you for a short moment, "has a weird request. She met a boy yesterday, during the party. He lost something and my sweet Y/N has been adamant since this morning that she wants to find him and personally return it to him. We were wondering," he turns his gaze in the direction of the couch, "if it could be one of your wards."

There are indeed three young men, half sprawled on the couch, who get up as one when Lagertha gives them a stern look. If you vaguely remember having seen them before, a single glance is enough for you to know that the one you're looking for is not among them.

You're on the verge of saying so but your uncle doesn't give you a chance to. "See boys," he unceremoniously grabs the cane you're holding behind your back, "here is the lost item. A cane! Fairly uncommon, if you ask me. Anyway... Does this... thing belong to any of you?"

Since you know it doesn't, you're surprised when two of the guys both take a step forward. "Actually, it's mine," they say in unison, each of them only then becoming aware that the other is speaking.

Dumbstruck, you look at one then the other successively. They've got a lot of nerve! You know they're lying, and you would have known it even if these two idiots hadn't spoken at the same time. They just look nothing like your handsome stranger – if he's a stranger.

"Sigurd, you know it's mine!"

"Don't play dumb, you never use a cane, Ubbe! Whereas me, I do sometimes. Everyone knows artists tend to be eccentric, right?"

The blondest one – Sigurd if you heard right – points his finger at a guitar leaning against the wall and then winks at you, "I'm a musician, you know?" You don't even have time to roll your eyes as the other one – Ubbe? – yells, his nostrils flaring.

"Shut up Sig, you're so full of shit! You know I've got a sprained ankle!"

"A sprained ankle, no kidding? Who did a ten-kilometer run today, huh? It's not me! So, you are the one going to shut up, you fucking douchebag!"

It's almost funny to watch them arguing back and forth. If you weren't so pissed off, you'd laugh. But right now, you're mostly mad at them. Their blatant lies make your blood boil with anger.

Are they really thinking you're a complete idiot? That you can be fooled so easily? Who do they think they are? Who do they think you are? Some stupid chick ready to fall for their good looks? If they think that, they're kidding themselves.

"You're the fucking douchebag, Sig!! Don’t forget I'm the oldest!"

"And what's the difference, huh? You can't have all the girls, Ubbe! Keep fucking Margrethe and just let me be! Stop being a controlling asshole!"

"STOP!!!! BOTH OF YOU!!!"

Lagertha's shout is deafening and if looks could kill, these two morons would be lying dead on the floor right here, right now.

"Y/N, my dear," Lagertha gives you an apologetic smile, "I'm so sorry for that. I swear they usually know how to behave, better than that at least. Guess they don't know how to handle your striking beauty. Now sweetheart, tell me, is one of these two knuckleheads the one you were with last night?"

The silence that falls on the room after her question is so complete that you could hear a pin drop. Acutely aware that all eyes are on you, you shyly lower your gaze, shaking your head slightly, as you clasp your hands over your belly. You eventually speak, your eyes meeting Lagertha's, and you can see she knows what you're going to say. "No, the guy I was with last night is not one of them."

"How can you be so sure?" Sigurd's voice is soft and tentative now, and Ubbe adds, seemingly for once in agreement with his younger brother, "yeah, how can you? It was pretty dark after all."

You give them a smile. "How can I be so sure? You mean beside the fact that you obviously don't need a cane? Neither of you?" The third brother, who still hasn't opened his mouth, chuckles, giving you a thumbs up. "Look, I appreciate your interest, I really do, but neither of you are the one I am looking for. Therefore," you look at your uncle, "we should leave, don't you think?" Checking the time on your watch, you shrug. "What about the Eyvindsson family? Didn't you tell me about three brothers? We may have time to go and see them tonight if we hurry."

Your uncle nods, handing you back the cane. "You're right, Y/N, we should leave." Taking two steps forward, he grabs Lagertha's hand. "Sorry dear, we will waste no more of your time."

You're about to thank her when one of the boys clears his throat. "Ahem..."

Turning your head, you're surprised to see the third brother, the silent one, raising his hand. "I think I might know who this cane belongs to." Frowning, he glances at his brothers. "And you both know it too."

"Shut up, Hvitserk!" Sigurd spits, clenching his hands into fists. "Don't bring the fucking cripple into the conversation."

"Sigurd! Keep your mouth shut!" Lagertha glares at him for several long seconds then her face softens as she looks at Hvitserk, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What are you trying to say, Hvitserk? Do you think this cane belongs to your baby brother?"

Hvitserk nods. "I know it does, actually."

"Come on, Hvit, you're talking nonsense. It cannot be, it just cannot. That guy was standing. It wasn't our brother. Our brother wasn't there last night." Ubbe stubbornly insists, but Hvitserk just shakes his head.

"Of course, he was. I saw him. And don't bullshit me, Ubbe, you saw him too. With Y/N." Hvitserk states. That's when you realize that your palms are sweating and your pulse is racing.

Hvitserk keeps going, now speaking to his guardian. "I know what I saw, Lagertha. It was him. I don't know how, but he was standing, Ubbe is right. He was even walking. It may sound weird but I swear, it was him."

Lagertha nods. "I believe you, Hvitserk." A beaming smile spreads across her lips and she tilts her head. "I wouldn't be surprised if Floki had something to do with such a miracle. Go get your brother, Hvitserk, please."

Your heart leaps at these words, you're barely able to contain your excitement and as you let out a nervous chuckle, you cannot help but jump for joy. Needless to say, Ubbe and Sigurd seem much less enthusiastic than you.

***

Reluctantly following his brother, Ivar mutters under his breath, "you're pissing me off, Hvit. I'm fucking not in the mood for whatever you have in mind."

Hvitserk pays him no mind though, a small smile dancing on his lips. "Trust me, baby bro, you'll be in the mood."

Ivar wants to protest, or maybe just turn around and wheel back to his room but all at once the sound of your voice reaches his ears and he stops, frozen in place, his eyes wide open. He may have stopped breathing.

Patting his shoulder reassuringly, Hvitserk whispers, "It's Y/N, baby bro, but I have a feeling you already know. She's here for you, she was looking for you, Ivar. Go..." before giving a single push to his brother's wheelchair, his right hand on the backrest.

Ivar honestly doesn't know how he manages to wheel himself into the living room. What he does know, however, is that you're suddenly standing right in front of him. The heart stopping smile you flash him blows all the air out of his lungs, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, and the outside world – Lagertha, his brothers, Harald – ceases to exist.

A little voice tells him he should be feeling self-conscious with his hair all messy and wearing worn sweatpants, but he can't bring himself to care, not when you kneel in front of him with stars in your eyes.

"Here you are, finally," you breathe, gently placing a hand on his knee. Ivar didn't know until now that one could die of happiness, but that's exactly what he's feeling and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Swallowing, he blinks several times. When he speaks, his voice trembles, his bottom lip quivering. "Hello Y/N, you were... looking for... for me?" He has trouble getting the words out, his nervous fingers fidgeting on his lap.

Grabbing both his hands in yours, you nod, your thumbs stroking his knuckles tenderly. "I was, yes, and for a very long time."

Shyly lowering his head, Ivar, almost feeling dizzy, can't wrap his head around your words. They're just too good to be true. "But... why?"

"Why?" You giggle, your laughing eyes lighting up your face, and he's positive, you're even more beautiful like this. "Isn't it obvious? I want to know more about you, what's your favorite color, what you eat for breakfast, where you see yourself in ten years. I just want to spend time with you, Ivar."

'Ivar' You've just said his name and it's like the sweetest music to his ears. He can't believe it. Wow. "You... You recognized me?" There's so much hope and joy in his voice, he cringes.

You shrug, your smile never leaving your lips. "I wasn't sure at first. You've changed a lot." Your hand cups his cheek. The sensation on his skin is so overwhelming he has to hold back the tears threatening to gush. Yet, he can't help but think you're speaking about his legs.

He grits his teeth. "Yeah... Standing tall can change a man."

"No! no, no, no," you retort without missing a beat, "That's not what I meant. In my memory you still looked like you did when we were ten, but look at you now, all grown up! Your hair was so short back then." Reaching out, you brush a strand of hair back and tuck it behind his ear before letting your fingers run slowly down and up his bulging biceps, your hand finally lingering on his forearm, "Plus, you clearly work out a lot. So, yeah, I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure. When we were dancing last night, I thought I'd ask you right after, but then you left and... well... I didn't have a chance..."

Ivar wraps his fingers around yours, a frown creasing his forehead. "About that, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left like–"

You shush him, holding a finger to his lips. "It doesn't matter, Ivar. You don't have to explain. All that matters is that I found you." Standing up, you lean forward and gently kiss his cheek and he feels like he's floating. Intertwining his fingers with yours, you whisper in his ear, "I reckon we got some lost time to make up, you and me. Can we go stargazing now?"

Hearing this makes Ivar's insides turn to jelly. Barely able to think, he is on cloud nine and wishes with all his heart never to come back down to earth again. But despite the daze, despite the fog in his head, despite the blinding happiness, he knows one thing: no matter how many stars he sees, you'll be the brightest one.

"Yes, Y/N, you're right," bringing your hand to his mouth, he gives it a kiss, "let's go stargazing."

And as he leaves the room, you walking alongside him with your hand on his shoulder, his heart filled with joy and wonder, he doesn't miss the thumbs up Hvitserk gives him, nor the scowl on Ubbe's and Sigurd's faces.

For a fleeting second, he thinks he should – he could – taunt them. They deserve to be laughed at, don't they? But then, he realizes he doesn't have time for that. The time for happiness has come, and it's far more important.

Giving you a beaming smile, Ivar inhales deeply before releasing a sigh of satisfaction. Yeah. Happiness. Happiness sounds good.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar’s taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

99 notes · View notes

gewhanaa · 6 months ago

Text

This fic is incredible and I still can't believe I was lucky enough to get Nivasi as my gifter 💜💜💜

If you read their other works I highly recommend them. They're so incredibly unique and creative, and I've gotten fully invested in every long fic they've written, and I've recc'd them below!

Driven, an F1 modern AU:

Gale Dekarios is a four-time Formula 1 World Champion at the top of his game, until he's involved in a crash that nearly ends his life as well as his career. Two years later, he's invited back to the sport by his old race engineer Aumar Elminster, now the Team Principal of the newly reformed Weave Racing. The only catch? His new teammate is a rich, spoiled daddy's boy who represents everything Gale hates about the sport.

Astarion Ancunin is an F1 rookie, with only one season under his belt. As one of the sport's most promising talents, he's thrilled when he's invited to be part of the renowned Weave Racing team. The only catch? His new teammate is a failed relic who expects Astarion to be his Number 2 driver.

Now, the two unwilling colleagues will need to learn to work together or watch both their careers go up in flames.

Hustle, a modern with magic Youtuber AU:

Astarion Ancunin works hard on his YouTube channel, sometimes spending weeks on the beautiful fashion films that show off his handcrafted gowns. His audience may be small but he's proud of his content. Which is why it's so godsdamned irritating when the self-named 'Wizard Of Waterdeep' starts posting hideous videos of his endless rambling and gets two million subscribers almost overnight.

Meanwhile, Gale Dekarios is selling his soul to make 'content' (ugh), just to try to get people to love magic again. He hates his channel and he hates himself, so he seeks solace in his favorite corner of the internet: r/galehaters — with his new online BFF, WhiteBat.

What Friends Are For, post canon friends to lovers:

In all the storybooks Gale Dekarios read as a child, none of the great heroic romances ever ended in divorce. When he confessed his love to Adriana, under an aurora of his own making, he meant it for good. Sadly, it turns out, she did not. That’s why he prefers magic to people, people are too unpredictable. And none more so than the bloody vampire who’s just been sent to check on him…

The team at the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette are doing their annual Secret Santa, and Gale has drawn Astarion’s name. Which would be fine, if it wasn’t for what happened between them last Christmas.

"Swap with me."

Gale tries to be as surreptitious as possible, leaning on his colleague’s desk, all casual-like. Fortunately, as the paper’s resident investigative journalist, Jenevelle is the only one afforded a private space in the open-plan office, a desk with a screen and privacy film across her laptop.

Shadow-lined eyes squint up at him through a black fringe, and one black earbud is removed with irritation.

“What?”

“Swap with me!”

“Lives? Bodies?” she snaps. “I’m good but I’m not psychic.”

“Secret Santa!” Gale hisses, glancing over at his own desk on the other side of the office, making sure no one is listening. Well, someone.

“Oh,” she huffs. “No, thanks.”

The earbud is going back in when Gale’s frantic waving makes her pause.

She sighs. “Who did you get?”

“Astarion.”

🎄

My modern no magic AU for the Bloodweave Brainrot Secret Santa, as prompted by the awesome @gewhanaa. Read the rest on AO3!

#bloodweave fic #bloodweave #fic rec #astarion #gale dekarios #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

20 notes · View notes

xneens · 5 years ago

Text

side to side

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: In which you're performing your hit single in front of your fellow Avengers cast-mates and Chris can't seem to take his eyes off of you, catching the attention of a few cameras.

"I'm here with the biggest pop-star of this generation, and she plays the very talented daughter of Tony Stark," the interviewer announced your name, smiling brightly at you as the camera panned your way. The hundreds of thousands of fans at home screaming when your face appeared. "How do you feel with all your nominations tonight?"

You smiled at the camera, giving a small wave at the people watching at home. "Honestly, I'm just glad I was even considered for these nominations. I mean, my girls Taylor, and Billie...they're amazing and I'm so happy to be put in the same category as them."

The lady grinned at you, her eyes twinkling. Or maybe it was her sparkly dress, the fabric nearly blinding you with how it shined under the lights. "If you ask me, you've got a pretty good chance at winning. I mean, your hit single—Side to Side—surpassed, like, a billion views in just a month? That's impressive."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without my fans." you replied, winking at the camera.

It was that time of the year again, where every artist, actor, and YouTuber hit the stage for the People's Choice Awards. With your crazy schedule, and the lack of sleep, you had planned to skip the award show until your friend, and co-star, Chris Evans—Captain America himself—convinced you otherwise. Even with the categories you've been nominated for had been more than a handful, but it was the begging and constant complaining from Chris that made you get off your tired ass and put it into a tight dress.

Your hit single, Side to Side, had everyone anticipated for your performance, unsure if you would be performing until the producers had put your name into the advertisement, making fans blow up Twitter. You were sure they had advertised your own song, along with your movie nominations, more than you ever had.

With nominations of Movie of the Year (Avengers: Infinity War), Action Movie of the Year (Avengers: Infinity War), Female Movie Star of the Year (Amara Stark), Female Artist of the Year, Song of the Year (Side to Side), Music Video of the Year (Into You), Beauty Influencer of the Year, and Social Celebrity of the Year, you had your hands full, which had only made your manager glow with happiness.

"Of course!" the interviewer agreed, glancing at the teleprompter filled with tiny words. "It was rumored that you wouldn't be coming, and a lot of us were upset, including me. Was that just a rumor or..."

"Actually, it's not that far off. I'm fucking—oh, shit—oh no!" you gasped, covering your mouth before anymore foul words could come out on live television. Instead of correcting you, the lady laughed, patting your arm softly. "Can't say that on tv. My bad. I, uh, with everything going on, I've been really tired, and I haven't slept in a week. I just wanted to chill, and accept my nominations at home but someone convinced me to come. So, if I say or do anything ridiculous tonight, I'm blaming him and my lack of sleep."

She nodded, clapping slowly. "I think that's fair. Is that someone, your onscreen father, RDJ?"

"He was one of the many people who unsuccessfully changed my mind, but no, it was Chris Evans. He promised me a day with his adorable dog, Dodger, and I couldn't refuse." you said, grinning at how his face had changed from hopeless to cocky as soon as he brought up Dodger.

"If I'm remembering this correctly, Chris Evans is that very handsome man you had kissed in your music video earlier this year. Into You, right? How do you feel kissing one of your co-stars outside of the movies your working on?"

"Technically, it was still acting, and I have kissed him before, so it wasn't awkward at all." you answered, glad Chris had accepted the role. Not only had it sky-rocketed the views and streams, but it made you feel better that it was his lips you were kissing and not a random model's. Yet, it didn't feel as professional as it had before when you pulled away after a take.

In scenes where you had to kiss the Boston actor, it was as professional as kicking Anthony Mackie's ass in Civil War but the kisses you shared on the set of the music video was definitely more personal. At the time, you had brushed it off as Chris being recently single, but now that you had broken up with Henry, you started questioning it again.

The interviewer nodded, squinting once more to read the words off the teleprompter before asking you another question that would certainly make the headlines. "I've been reading up on all those juicy tabloids and I've got one question that would satisfy my curiosity. Was Into You written about Henry Cavill or Tom Ellis?"

Usually, that type of question made you change the subject or altogether avoid the matter but this time, you wanted to joke about your failed engagement. "Henry, but Side to Side was written about Tom since I wanted more Grammy's considering the last album I put out won me a few. But this time, I'm gonna do it without an engagement."

The woman faked a laugh, surprised by the blunt honesty of your answer. "Um, you certainly do have a thing for British men, eh? I don't want to keep you up, but one more thing, for the fans. They've been dying to know if there's anything going on between you and Chris Evans. Any tea you wanna spill?"

"There's none to spill. We're just friends but it's always amusing scrolling through Twitter to find these edits of us." you replied, fidgeting slightly with the hem of your dress. Like usual, you had wondered if you should've worn something less extra but you had let your stylist play dress up with you for the past few months.

"Of course. Well, good luck to you, and I can't wait to see your performance." she said, giving you a little pat on the shoulders before announcing your name once again.

You got off the little platform, immediately taking Chris' awaiting hand, holding onto it as you climbed down the steps in your dangerous stilettos. Sighing, you leaned on him, trying to avoid the blinding camera flashes. "That was more exhausting than I thought it would be. You need to get me some caffeine after this is over because there's no way I'm making it to the after show without at least a few cans of Red Bull."

"So dramatic." Chris grinned, childishly sticking his tongue out as he guided you down the red carpet, stopping when told to take a picture. He let go of your hand, only to wrap it around your waist as you posed for the pictures. "Are you going to the after party?"

Posing seriously for a few seconds, you let your smile back on your face, facing the man beside you. "I was thinking about it, take a few photos, and head back home. Aren't you?"

"Actually, I was thinking we could ditch it and just hang out. You know, I did promise you some time with Dodger and you could waste a couple hours sleeping." he replied, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your waist. Flashing you a shit-eating smirk, he nudged you a little, pulling you away from the blinding flashes. "What do you say?"

You opened your mouth to answer only to be cut off by your manager, Alexandre coming out of nowhere to rip you away from Chris' arms. The latin man sighed in annoyance, glancing at his watch while giving you the look you've seen too many times before. "You're supposed to be in wardrobe right now. Get your ass backstage, and change before you miss your own performance. As for you, Mr. Evans, Megan wants your ass in a chair."

"I'll see you after." you say, getting dragged by your manager, winking at the actor before walking towards the changing area, the cameras following you until they couldn't enter the area.

Getting ready before a huge performance always calmed you down, maybe it was the smell of makeup or the feel of designer clothing made especially for you, but something about it made you feel comfortable and cozy. It was like a routine, especially with all the music videos and movies you had to film, the makeup, the hair.

They made you sit back, giving you your phone like a child while they made you even more sparkly than before, making sure you'd stand out against the flashing lights during the performance. A performance you made sure no one would ever forget. Smiling, you let your thoughts drift back to a certain super soldier as you were pampered.

—

"Welcome to the People's Choice Awards!"

The room darkened, the blue and pinks lights focusing on the stage as cameras all turned towards your shadow. Making sure your mic was set properly, tried to see past the darkness, to see a familiar face or two but with the headache coming on from the tight half-ponytail didn't help your case. The music started, the beat vibrating, you flipped your hair, and started.

"I've been there all night

I've been there all day (Nicki Minaj)

And boy, got me walkin' side to side (Let then hoes know)"

You rode the bike, belting out in your microphone, the attached headset limiting your movements a little. Gripping the handles, you made eye contact at the camera to your left, winking at it as you pedaled.

"I'm talkin' to ya

See you standing over there with your body

Feeling like I wanna rock with your body

And we don't gotta think 'bout nothin'

I'm comin' at ya

'Cause I know you got a bad reputation

Doesn't matter, 'cause you give me temptation

And we don't gotta think 'bout nothin'"

As you had sung, your eyes had adjusted to the bright spotlight focused on you, seeing a shadow of the one person you wanted to make you walk side to side. While you had answered the reporter's question, you hadn't been completely honest. Some of the lyrics had been written for the Bostonian; or to be more exact, your sex fantasies. With the chorus coming up, you let go of the handles, trying not to fall on your ass as you clapped your hands above your head, the claps matching the beat.

"These friends keep talkin' way too much

Say I should give you up

Can't hear them, no, 'cause I..."

Trying to be bold, you stared at him, his face in particular. The spotlight had blinded you so much that you couldn't see what his reaction was—or anyone's for that matter—but maybe it was a good thing. After all, his gaze always made you blush no matter how hard you tried not to. Pedaling faster, you threw your head back, hoping the motion would draw everyone's—Chris'—eyes on your chest.

"I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side

I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side"

With the help of a shirtless dancer, you got off your bike, taking the sheer jacket from him, and putting it on as you walked towards the front of the stage, moving your hips in to the beat of the song. Resting a hand on a shirtless dancer, you positioned yourself so you were grinding your ass against his crotch, throwing back an arm around his neck.

"Been tryna hide it

Baby, what's it gonna hurt if they don't know?

Makin' everybody think that we solo

Just as long as you know you got me

And boy, I got ya

'Cause tonight I'm making deal with the devil

And I know it's gonna get me in trouble

Just as long as you know you got me"

Sashaying to the little balance beam at the front of the stage, you made sure your hips swayed more than usual.

"These friends keep talkin' way too much

Say I should give you up

Can't hear them, no, 'cause I...

"I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side

I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side"

A few seconds after your note ended, you strike a pose on the balance beam, posing for a few more seconds while the cameras turned their attention away from you and onto the queen of rap herself: Nicki Minaj. The leather, pink bodysuit was identical to yours except for the color, her attitude fitting the badass outfit. She began to walk towards the stage, never breaking eye contact with the camera in front of her while the men pretending to work out to the choreo.

"Uh, yeah

This the new style with the fresh type of flow

Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle

Come through yo, get you this type of blow

If you want a ménage, I got a tricycle

All these bitches' flows is my mini-me

Body smoking, so they call me Young Nicki Chimney

Rappers in they feelings 'cause they feelin' me

Uh, I-I give zero fucks and I got zero chill in me

Kissing me, copped the blue box that say Tiffany

Curry with the shot, just tell 'em to call me Stephanie

Gun pop, then I make my gum pop

I'm the queen of rap"

By the time she had finished her verse, you had caught up with the multitasking of both working out and singing, able to use your full singing capabilities for your high note. Nicki joined you on stage, hyping up the crowd while you built up for the high note, almost every camera pointed at you except for the one focused on capturing the headline-worthy expression slapped on Chris' face.

"These friends keep talkin' way too much

Say I should give em up

Can't hear them, no, 'cause I...

"I've been here all night (Been here all night, baby)

I've been here all day (Been here all night, baby)

And boy, got me walkin' side to side (Side to side)

I've been here all night (Been here all night, baby)

I've been here all day (Been here all day, baby) (Ooh, baby)

And boy, got me walkin' side to side (Side to side)"

Both you and Nicki motioned for the dancers to come towards you, curling your index finger at the sexy men. Singing the refrain, you both made them drop to their knees in front of you, as if they were kneeling at your command.

Just as the last note was sung, everyone clapped, the majority standing up, and more cheered. You noticed Chris hadn't done either, still sitting in his motionless while two camera men pointed their cameras at him. Your eyebrows furrowed, thankfully after the spotlight had shifted over to the miniature stage where the two hosts were babbling about nominations.

You were ushered off the stage along with the queen of rap herself, taking a few backstage photos before quickly returning back to your dressing room to change into your tailored dress. Your mind had wandered to why Chris hadn't applauded—not that he was obliged too, but a little something would've nice, especially with all the days put into the performance.

Taking a deep breath, you entered the big room, filled with your co-stars and other A-list celebrities. Little did you know you'd find out the reason to your question in the morning.

—

The loud ringtone woke you up, the sound obnoxious and borderline abuse to your ears. Beside you, Chris groaned, rolling onto his stomach, trying to muffle the sound of the call with his arm draped over his head. Putting him out his misery, you lazily reached for your phone, pressing the green button with dread, seeing the name across the screen.

"Hello—"

"You're trending on Twitter." Alexandre announced, happy with the results of the previous awards show. While it wasn't something as big as a Grammy or Oscar, judging by the amount of awards you had taken home, you became the people's favorite. "Hold on, lemme rephrase that. You and Chris are trending. Number one, world wide."

Glancing at the man sleeping beside you, you sat up, confused by the information given to you. You blamed Chris for making you stay up so late for your confusion. "Um, why? Did I accidentally have another nip slip?"

"What the hell?" Chris mumbled, rolling onto his back, his arm grazing your bare stomach. He immediately took it back, sitting up to look over your puzzled face. "What's going on?"

You shrugged, putting your phone on speaker so Alexandre could explain. Your manager chuckled, knowing you had stayed the night with Chris. He was just waiting for the day you'd finally have the guts to speak about the growing sexual tension. "Okay, Alex, explain."

"As much as I would love to go into full detail, I have other stuff to do so, I'm going to give you the basics. Chris' reaction to your performance went viral, people are shipping the both of you, and there's been thousands of memes made." Alexandre replied, a smile evident in his voice. "Anyways, I have to go. Got some interviews to schedule. Have fun getting your way out of this, Chris."

Your phone screen went back to the home screen, a picture of your family dog, Buster, smiling widely. Looking at Chris, you saw his eyes widened, his hands coming to rest of his face in embarrassment as he fell back onto the bed with a bounce, his head nearly hitting the headboard. "Oh, fuck."

"Are you going to show me what your face looked like or do I have to scroll through Twitter until I find it? Oh! Maybe they edited it in my performance." you thought out load, tapping on the YouTube app. You hadn't trusted yourself enough to log into your official account, knowing you'd probably make a mistake so you opted for having a secondary account where you could watch cat videos without the anxiety of posting something stupid.

Chris' hand snatched your phone away, tucking it in his pocket, the sweats he had slept in was somehow wrinkled, and his shirt damp from the warmth. "You wanna get some food? I'll cook some bacon but you'll have to make the pancakes 'cause the last time—"

"I wanna see your reaction." you whined, reaching across his stomach for your phone. Chris turned his body away from you, shielding the phone from your reach. "Chris!"

He waved your attempt away, rolling off the bed, his feet hitting the floor before you could fall back on the mattress.You poured, getting on all fours, crawling towards the edge. Chris took a step back, brows furrowing. "It's not important. Let's get you some food."

"Fine." you mumbled, an idea making you light up. Rolling off the bed, you glanced at his phone on the nightstand, exposed and easy to take. With quick reflexes, you grabbed his phone, rolling back on the bed until you reached the other side, making it impossible for him to reach for his phone back.

"Hey!" the Bostonian shouted, launching himself on the bed in attempt to get his phone back. He made a noise as you rushed out of your room, locking yourself in the nearby bathroom, laughing evilly when he threw himself at the door. He yelled out your name, his fist banging on the door. "I'm serious! Don't!"

Ignoring his begging, you opened his phone with your thumbprint. How ironic how much he didn't want you to look at his phone when he was the one who insisted you have the password to it. His arguments became louder as you opened up his Twitter, immediately heading to the trending section, seeing both your names at the number one spot.

"Damn, I look hot." you joked out loud, making Chris silent for a second before pleading for you not to continue. You smirked, scrolling through the tweets, trying to find his reaction. "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to you? Did you fall on your face or something?"

Chris groaned, banging his head on the door in defeat as he heard your almost inaudible gasp, that quickly turned into little giggles. If he wasn't so embarrassed, he would've broken the door down to hold you in his arms. "Oh, no."

Bursting out into hard laughter, you fell into the large bathtub, hitting your head on the wall but you couldn't care less. The expression on his face during your performance had been borderline comical, the wide eyes, the jaw hanging open, the open hand resting on his chin while his eyes stayed strained on you the whole time, never wavering from your body, the sexy choreography making his jeans tight.

Cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West, tears ran down your cheeks, your stomach cramping from the maniacal laughter. Lifting yourself up from the tub, you stumbled to the door, your loud laugh ringing out towards the whole house. You let Chris in the bathroom, his phone quickly taken from your hand but it was too late. The blush on his cheeks wasn't going away anytime soon. You leaned against him, your head resting on his chest, while you panted out a question. "Why did you look like you were trying to attract flies in your mouth?"

Chris groaned again, covering his eyes with a hand while the other rested on your back. "You're not going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Oh, God, no." you giggled, wiping the tears away, beginning to calm down. Glancing up at him, you noticed everything above the shoulders was gleaming red, the embarrassment too unbearable for him. "Chris, you looked exactly like the first time we were forced to share a bed together."

"Yeah, you have that affect on me."

"You gonna tell me why you looked so ... shocked? Or do I have to search through Twitter and go with whatever fan theory makes the most sense?" you asked, unable to keep the smug grin off your face. Chris closed his eyes, wishing he hadn't made you come to the awards show in the first place. You raised an eyebrow, fingers itching towards his phone. "You know I'll do it, Evans."

The man raised his hands, taking them off of you as he paced around the bathroom, deciding if this embarrassing moment was the right time to finally confess. "It's just, you know, the dance was so ... sexual and hot that I probably wasn't the only one looking at you like that. You can't exactly blame me for being shocked, watching the girl I'm in love with—"

Chris stopped as you be watched the colors drain out of your face, immediately freezing when he realized what he had said. Both of you stared at each other, eyes wide, not moving a muscle, barely blinking; the atmosphere so tense neither of you were breathing, waiting for the other to talk. But neither of you wanted to go first, terrified.

It wasn't until you started to feel dizzy that you realized you hadn't been breathing, letting out a huge breath, trying to relax while Chris did the same, his hands shaking, a nervous tick he got whenever he was anxious. You got the courage to speak first.

"What?"

It was better than nothing.

Chris was so nervous he nearly ran out of the room. There wasn't some kind of handbook or script he could read, helping him tell one of his best friends how head over heels he was for her. So, he said what his brain was stewing. "What?"

"What—what?" you replied, unsure if he even said the L word, so lightheaded by the sudden confession.

The actor stilled, eyes widening even further, while his eyebrows shot up his forehead. "What?"

"What?"

"Say what one more time, Evans, and I will make nothing but mac and cheese for the rest of your stay." you threatened softly, getting tired of not having an answer to your one-worded question.

Chris took a deep breath, hands trembling as he clasped them together, hoping to find the right words, hoping his inner thoughts would come out clear, giving you the answer you asked for. "I'm sorry. What do you want me to say?"

"What you were saying before. You know, before you looked like you saw a ghost and almost stopped breathing. I think that would be a good start." you replied, backing up to take a seat on the plush chair. Chris mirrored your actions, putting down the lid to the toilet before sitting down.

"This isn't the way I wanted you to find out." Chris whispered, his blue eyes trained on the emotions that flashed on your face. Your uncertainty of the situation didn't help his anxiety.

"Okay, um, were you going to tell me in the first place?" you asked, playing with the hem of your shirt—it had been a borrowed Patriots shirt from him. Looking back, you realized all the little things he'd done hadn't been because his platonic love for you. "Or were you just going to keep letting it be this way?"

Fidgeting with his hands, Chris peered through his eyelashes, seeing the hurt flash across your face before you quickly composed it. "Scott was hyping me up, trying to convince me to tell you before you got into another relationship. Do you know the real reason I broke up with Jenny? It hurt like hell when you announced you were engaged. Fuck, I couldn't even pretend to be happy because you were going to have the life I wanted with you, with someone who wasn't me. It was selfish and I got really mad at myself for being a dick."

"But—"

"And then the horrible, horrible relief I felt when you called off the engagement." Chris continued, his heart clenching. "Truth to be told, that was the day I found out I was in love with you, breaking things off with Jenny. Of course, I wanted to wait until you moved on, hoping to be the friend you went to but with my schedule, that was impossible. So, you seemed out comfort in Henry fucking Cavill."

"You're in love with me?" you whispered, hoping this wasn't some kind of cruel dream. If it was, you wouldn't mind staying.

The actor nodded, waiting for you to call him names and rush out. "Yes. You can leave or slap me or whatever you want to do but I love you."

You got up, running a hand through your hair. "Okay."

Chris' heart sank, wishing for any other kind of reaction, wishing you'd do something. Taking a deep breath, he got up. "Is this a goodbye?"

Frowning, you walked up to him, taking his face between with your hands, pressing your lips softly to his. You could feel his heart beat, the little organ beating so hard. You pulled away before he could recover from his shock, before he could kiss you back.

"Hello."

#chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #reader insert #marvel #chris evans x singer!reader #nicki minaj #ariana grande #fluff #side to side #song fic

585 notes · View notes

roo-bastmoon · 3 years ago

Note

See people (tkkrs) can't just say they think tk are dating and therfore don't think jikook are dating they have to say they've never been friends and everything is fanservice and they hate each other when that's objectively untrue BE NORMAL

It really concerns me, the need to vilify Jimin as the maknae's predator or a fanservice freak or clout chaser. He is a lovely, talented, sincere human being and doesn't deserve any of that bullshit.

Frankly, there are a lot of frightening parallels between the Taekook fandom and Trumper Qanon. You can't trust authority (Hybe / government). A false narrative is being pushed for profit (Jikook / liberals). The people in power have an agenda (Kpop executives / elite moguls). Only a small merry band of rebels know the truth (Taekookers / patriots). They see all the lies (two members are forced apart all the time / pizza shops are fronts for child sex trafficking rings). But the true believers also see the hints of truth (hearing voices off camera, insisting they can see details in grainy photographs, believing third-hand accounts from "fans" / all those Qdrops online). And this bonds them all together, because only they know the truth, and everyone else is out to get them. Through it all, they just have to TRUST, regardless of evidence, and someday, they will be the heroes and everything will work out exactly as they'd hoped. This group thrives on misinformation and bullying. That's a cult. That's straight up cult dynamics. And no one has time to individually deprogram millions of followers.

If Taekook had half as much evidence of genuine off-camera bonding as Jikook, there would be no need to create obstacles to their love story--it would just be obvious. Plus, it's the most popular ship around the globe; Hybe could be making so much more bank just by making them a subunit and pushing that ship hard. They don't. Because it's fantasy. The company won't kill the idea of any ship, because they don't want to alienate fans and forever get into the bullshit, but I don't believe they manufacture intimate moments on members' downtime and then force them to talk about it during Vlives or whatever. BTS doesn't need to get sales like that. JK has straight up said Tae is his friend. Tae said it's not good to stay in your imagination, please love all of us equally. But the cult has to dismiss anything that doesn't jive with their desired narrative. So they don't trust what the members actually say or do. JK and Tae "have" to say that because they are being "forced" all this time to hide. This line of thinking shows, at heart, a deep disrespect for Tae and JK's autonomy and individuality (and also just decent business practices).

I'm sure there are lovely BTS fans out there who just prefer the Taekook ship (not just as two visually appealing men, but, who like, genuinely believe Tae and JK are in love) and they go about their days, enjoying fics and fan art and making friends online, without ever talking shit about others or harassing brands or hiring protest trucks or stalking celebrities. I'm sure they are out there. I haven't met them, because I'm afraid to get too close, because the cult genuinely scares me. Jikook is my happy place where I come to mentally relax after a battle with cancer (which I'm winning by the way, HUZZAH!!!). I don't want to wade into the middle of a war--particularly with enemies who deny facts as part of their personal identity.

But yeah, the smear campaign against Jimin absolutely disgusts me. The Kim Taehyung and the Jeon Jungkook I've been watching all this time would light those toxic fans on fire to keep Jimin warm. They both care for Jimin deeply, even when going through tough times. That should be enough. Regardless of who you ship (or don't ship), the fact that they all have repeatedly shown genuine care for each other means you don't need to put down one to lift up another. The second you do, you've lost.

2 notes · View notes

wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Long time lurker, big fan of this blog. Can I request either a headcannon or a fic of Viv Tang?

Basically, it goes like this, it's an AU of some sort, where Viv and the Poppy leave MC. MC tried to hate them and forget them especially Viv, but couldn't do it. So out of spite and care, MC creates a whole organisation that revolves around protecting Viv and the others. (Making sure their heists go well, the police/government never finding them, making sure that their old enemies never get to them etc.) They've been doing this in private, but Viv and the others catch on, and that thought bothers them. Enough to make them distracted in their latest heist.

Their heist went down in shambles, leaving MC's crew to step in and made sure they're safe, leaving MC's mark to take the blame.

They were confused ofc, but MC's crew was just giddy and happy that they get to meet their leader's old crew.

Basically, they meet MC, MC makes them make it up to her.

And we know how in the original Viv route, we try really hard to pry her open and get her to trust us, well Viv does the same, trying to get MC to forgive her. And just angst ending with fluff please?

Lots of Love <3

This will contain both HC and story parts.

…

· After Vivienne leaves MC poisoned in Paris, of course she’s pissed.

· A talk with Jace (and some stress painting) later, MC feels like she has a pretty good grasp of Vivienne’s decision

“She was scared,” she muses, idly playing with one of her brushes, a thoughtful frown on her face as her mind wanders to the other members. “And they were… willing to give her a way out, I guess? Pretty messed up, considering they got me in this whole thing to begin with…”

Thing is, they hadn’t left her without something. Zoe had made sure MC could return to her normal life ‘after you lay low for a bit, probably two months’, advice left in a letter alongside some cash. Enough to buy a few plane tickets around the world. First class.

Even after their most recent decision, MC could recall how careful and welcoming everyone had been. Vivienne was always a mystery, of course, lingering at the edge while MC got to know Jett and Zoe in the Art Club they had formed, or as MC debated with Remy and Leon about a movie they had been watching. With Nikolai, it was mostly challenges Nikolai loved to issue and MC was too proud to deny. But she was always there, in the background. She had become a rather comforting presence, as MC had formed bonds with everyone.

“This was not the best course of action, but they took it anyway.” Vivienne’s choice had been driven by emotion, raw panic, but MC just couldn’t wrap her mind around Nikolai or Zoe, both logical to the bone, supporting it. “There must have been something else, there.”

· With the anger slowly cooling off, MC thought she could almost begin to understand their reasons. The Poppy isn’t the sort of group to taint their hands with blood, not unless it’s absolute necessary.

· Celine had pushed everyone, even if the heist ended on a positive note.

· ‘I believe you have a place with us’, Nikolai had said. MC remembered the heist and how everything could have gone wrong.

· Their talent and quick-thinking are the only reason they got out of that situation relatively unharmed.

· No doubt the rest of their heists carried the same danger.

· MC thought of Celine, gun aiming at her chest, eyes glinting in Vivienne’s direction and made a split-second decision.

· There was no way, no way at all, that she was going to let anything happen to them.

…

· When Vivienne had first noticed the sudden lack of danger in their heists, she was instantly suspicious.

· She couldn’t afford to brush anything off in her line of work.

· Zoe finds the source in no time.

· To say they were confused as an understatement.

“I thought she was back in New York?”

“I don’t understand, why would she choose this?”

“We’re hardly so incompetent as to need a guard.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“Couple months, so maybe they started operating around March?” Zoe throws them a withering look so they’ll shut up, and lets out a long sigh once they do. “Point is, we’ve gained a new stalker, even if it’s her. She got a whole organization going, she’s pretty dedicated.”

“Of course she is, it’s why we choose her in the first place.”

“Technically, Vivienne did.”

“Well, yeah. Still, this is insane. So little time, and yet…”

“MC was always a fighter,” Vivienne says, quietly. “It’s certainly an… interesting choice…”

“She seems to have very good intel,” Zoe continues, eyes glued to her laptop’s screen. “Too good. She knows our every movement.”

“Which means she will be lurking around this heist.” Nikolai drums his fingers against his armchair, a frown firmly in place. “That might be a problem.”

“She’s been doing this for months, but we’ve never caught a glimpse of her. It’s safe to say she won’t approach us, right?”

“We probably shouldn’t, either. Not for now. We need more info on this organization of hers.”

“We’ll proceed as planned.”

· Except nothing goes as planned.

· Jett’s bombs don’t go off when they should, providing no distraction and thus no way of escape for Vivienne and Nikolai.

· No safe way, at any rate.

· The guards get suspicious of their malfunctioning equipment remarkably quick, moving to search the place.

· Remy gets found out first, though he stalls as much as he can.

· It’s enough time for Leon and Nikolai to think for a way out, though Remy is still with the guards.

· The bombs go off at that moment, and Vivienne is trapped.

· It’s at that moment that MC’s crew intervene.

· The guards are the most important issue, and so most of her crew go handle it.

· MC takes care of Vivienne personally.

“Well, that went great.” MC says, flashing Vivienne a cheeky smile when she finds her. Vivienne looks up at her with wide eyes, brown eyes glinting under the light of the room.

“How did you…”

“Questions later, darling. Can you walk?”

Vivienne blinks, taking a deep breath. The motion helps her get rid of most of her surprise. She knows she doesn’t have time to lose, so she accepts MC hand and follows her out. The trip is quiet, of course. Vivienne keeps a carefully neutral expression on, eyes flickering from the woman in front of her to the rest of their escape route.

It’s hard, trying to compare this woman with the one she had kissed all those months ago. She remembers how her hands grasped at her robe, passionate, truthful, those sweet words MC had muttered against Vivienne’s mouth, before the poison had taken effect.

MC had said she would never hurt Vivienne. Vivienne had poisoned her, afraid she would hurt MC.

It didn’t feel like she could hurt the woman before her, though, standing tall and strong and confident, a leader, someone made out of stone. For a moment, Vivienne had the impression poison wouldn’t even work on her anymore.

· MC had changed. It was as clear as the water glimmering outside the organization’s HQ.

· She wasn’t the same bubbly, hopeful girl Vivienne had taken around Paris, teaching everything she could about thievery.

· She wasn’t the same passionate, proud artist she had been, brush in hand, smiling in wonder and then frowning in concentration when she tried to capture something beautiful. Somehow, most of the time, the subject of her painting was Vivienne herself.

· She was steely, snarky, commanding the room with her very presence. All eyes followed her as she went, speaking clear orders for the crew to follow.

· In the beginning, they had stuck to the Gilded Poppy like glue, curious. No doubt they were trying to see why MC cared about them so much to go through this kind of trouble.

· One look from MC was enough to get them to disperse.

· This change… everything it entailed… Vivienne wanted to know more.

“So, how did it feel?” MC had asked her as soon as they got a moment alone. Vivienne shot her a glance, trying to decipher something in her expression.

“How did what feel?”

“Thinking you could force me out of this. You got me in this life.”

“I gave you a way out.”

“But I told you, didn’t I? I wanted this, and you…”

“I’ve lived all my life like this. I didn’t want you to face-”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have chosen me, then. Ever think of this little thing called consequences?”

Isadora flashes through her mind, quick, too quick. It leaves a trail of golden hair in the back on her mind, all too real when she closes her eyes. Vivienne presses her lips together, forces herself to focus.

“This organization…”

“Don’t let it get to your head, darling. It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“…The others, then.”

“Yes. Quid pro quo, and all that. I’ll see what I can ask in return later.”

“We didn’t ask you to intervene.”

“You didn’t ask before poisoning me, either. I feel like doing drastic things without asking for permission are common place around here.”

“That doesn’t even-”

“Ah, ah, ah. Did I save your lives, yes or no?”

Jett had said, before they got released from the medical ward, that the plan failing was entirely his fault, after getting too distracted thinking about MC to get his usual formulas right. Vivienne didn’t doubt him – Jett was, after all, very dedicated to his craft. A mistake was unthinkable, unless something of this magnitude managed to get to him.

He felt guilty and weirded out, probably, she thinks bitterly, despite everything being my fault, as per usual.

“…you did.”

The smile that stretches over MC’s face is almost predatory, brown eyes glinting with satisfaction. “That’s what I like to hear.”

#Anonymous #answered #lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction #lovestruck vivienne #lovestruck qot #queen of thieves #qot vivienne #vivienne tang #queen of thieves vivienne #vivienne x mc #soft angst #light angst #woeful wednesday

73 notes · View notes

coffeemusings · 25 days ago

Text

All eyes were now on them as they took to the dance floor.

They danced together effortlessly, in step and in sync, and though the Queen knew some nobles watched with a look of displeasure because of whom she was dancing with, she did not care. All she cared about, all that mattered, were the two of them in this moment, moving about together on the dance floor as though they'd been dancing of years.

Some nobles, however, looked impressed as they watched the two of them. No doubt surprised with Zidane's talent for dancing, though it didn't surprise Garnet. In part because this wasn't the first time they've danced together, but Zidane had always been good on his feet. Agile, skilled, and acrobatic, so it was no surprise to Garnet that he was quite the dancer. Not to mention his time with the Tantalus Theater Troupe.

He was also quite the actor and he's more than proven that. Ever the entertainer and performer he was, drawing all attention to him, to them, with collective oohs and awes heard around the room. But eventually, everything, and everyone, around them began to fade, focusing only on Zidane in this moment as he held her close to him. She smiled as they moved in sync, never missing a step, never going off beat. Their hearts, she was sure, were also in sync - strong, quick and alive. Because that's what he made her feel.

The song came to a close and their movements slowed with it, but still, her eyes remained locked with his, not daring to look away. Their hands remained threaded, little space between their bodies, and had the music not started up again, she would have kissed him right then and there. The music picks up, nearing the end. They twirl and glide, he spins her in and pulls her back in, they glide some more, one more spin and then their bodies come back together when the song finishes and the Queen, too, is breathless. But still, she smiles.

Even has everything around them comes back into focus. The applause, the chatter -- she's blushing and giggling and her head falls to his shoulder for a brief moment while catching her breath. Then she hears his question and pulls back to look at him. "...I am." She admits, feeling a little guilty for saying so. Given she needed to be here. Queen and all. "But I can't exactly leave now, Zidane." She frowned, keeping her voice quiet, so only he could hear the disappoint in her voice. "Unless I've a reason to," her eyes lit up, a mischievous glint within. "You look unwell after that dance," her voice raises just a little, concern filling her eyes as she places her hand gingerly against his cheek. "Are you alright?"

Your Highness.

Your Majesty.

My Queen.

Garnet was used to hearing all of it. She was all of those things. Those titles belonged to her.

But more often than not, she found herself wondering: did they, really? Did they truly belong to her?

It probably wasn't something she should question, but... she couldn't help it. After all, she wasn't the real Garnet. That name didn't truly belong to her. And neither did the titles that came with it. But she kept them. She kept them because the people of Alexandria needed her to. They needed her. Their Princess. Their Queen. And she had vowed long ago to lead them and to protect them... yet there were moments her being Queen felt… wrong. Because no one, except those closest to her, knew the truth.

No one knew that she was not the true heir to the throne. No one knew she was not truly Brahne's daughter, that her real daughter had died. No one knew she had been found as a child, having fled from her home's destruction, and taken in and raised as though she were truly Garnet. No one knew that she was from the Summoner's Village and that to hide it, her horn was removed.

No one knew that her real and true name was Sarah.

Garnet didn't know any of that until some several months ago. The revelation having happened after a series of life changing events, yet here she was, wearing the crown as though it belonged on her head. As though she belonged here. But sometimes she wondered: did she? Or rather... did she want to?

Because admittedly, sometimes she felt... trapped. Like a caged bird. A caged bird that longed to be free after having had a taste of it. Her entire life had been a lie and there was still so much she didn't know. About herself, about her home, about the world...

And she knew she wasn't the only one missing the world outside of Alexandria.

Did he feel trapped, too, Garnet wondered, as her eyes searched for him among the crowd. She would often find him staring out the window, or beyond the balcony, as though the world outside was calling to him... like it sometimes - often - called to her.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” A female voice startled Garnet from her thoughts, bringing her back to the moment, and she was quick to flash her a warm smile, though forced and mostly false.

“Yes. I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“The festival of the hunt is fast approaching. I’ve heard they’ve far more dangerous beasts this year. Will you attend?” The female asked, standing in the middle of two others.

Garnet nodded. “I will. I may even participate.”

That gave the three of them pause. “You… really? The Queen participating in The Hunt?” It almost sounded judgement al the way the women questioned it. Questioned her. As though it was unheard of and outlandish. Unheard of, yes, since no Queen of Alexandria had ever dared, but outlandish? Garnet didn’t think so. She quite enjoyed watching it last year and given how far she’s come and how much she’s learned, she wanted to take on the challenge. It was exhilarating just watching, but now she wanted to experience the true thrill of it.

They stared at her and Garnet felt herself growing rather irritated. Was she not allowed to enjoy things? Was she not allowed to… be herself? It was becoming far harder to do as of late and left her with a deep sadness and longing in her heart. A feeling that only one other person seemed to understand. But where was he? Garnet would understand if he decided to leave, feeling out of place and uncomfortable, perhaps. Something she was becoming all too familiar with ever since learning about the world around her and more importantly, herself.

Though her heart ached at the thought of him having left and her eyes continued to search through the crowd in hopes he was near. The only person Garnet felt that she could truly be herself around. She didn’t have to hide or pretend with him. When he was near, all her worries disappeared and she simply felt… happy and safe. Where—

“Care to dance, your Majesty?”

It was as though he sensed her discomfort. As though he knew she needed saving. He always knew what she needed and she was grateful for it. So, without hesitation, the Queen slipped her hand into his with a wide smile, one that conveyed appreciation and love. “I would love to.” And just like that, she was being whisked away, leaving the nobles behind, no doubt disapproving of not only her decision to join the hunt, but with the one that her heart belonged to.

Once on the floor with the other dancing nobles, she let out a sigh of relief and her smile turned warm and bright. Genuine. “You seem to always know when I need rescuing.” She chuckled, her arm moving around his neck while their hands became locked, closing the distance between them and enjoying the closeness and warmth that was Zidans.

#time for a little show hahaha #your time to shine zidane - get her out of there!#c; garnet (ffix)#tribalxthief

10 notes · View notes