#you ever just have a giant piece of cake and stare off into the distance? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

happyocelot · 2 years

Text

For @giustoart, Kiba introducing Tamaki to his family.

***

"Right now, I believe it would be wise to get lunch. Why? Because – "

A pair of hands slammed down onto Shino's shoulders.

"All right! Thanks for taking care of Hinata, guys. Ya know, I was just thinking, Ichiraku is having a special today – "

Shino's face darkened.

Kiba gritted his teeth.

Hinata beamed like the sun had decided to shine that day, just for her, only for her.

"So Hinata, race you there!"

Naruto rushed off, tugging Hinata along with him, her long, dark hair swishing in the wind. Akamaru barked after them.

"I thought he was going to race her," Kiba grumbled.

"He completely ignored our presence. Again." Shino stared after the happy couple, voice flat, dark, and a little menacing. Small cracks appeared on his glasses.

***

Once was a coincidence. Twice was somewhat irritating. Three times was extremely irritating.

The fourth time Naruto intercepted Team 8 at the gates of Konoha, newly returned from a mission, just to drag Hinata away to Ichiraku with that stupid, stupid smile of his, Shino and Kiba finally snapped.

"THAT'S IT! NARUTO, YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE HERE WHO CAN PLAY DIRTY!" Kiba roared after stupid Naruto and his stupid smile, taking their teammate off to stupid, stupid Ichiraku and cutting into their precious Team 8-only missions and get-togethers.

Naruto didn't appear to have heard, he and Hinata mere specks in the distance now.

"SHINO!"

"You do not have to shout. Why? Because I am right here." Shino clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned ghostly pale. He turned to meet Kiba's identical burning gaze. "We must take vengeance on the buffoon. Why? Because – "

"Man, I'm happy for them and all, but does he have to butt in like this all the time? I mean, I wouldn't be this annoying about my girlfriend."

"You would be far worse than him," Shino snapped.

"No, I wouldn't!"

"Yes, you would."

"No, I wouldn't!"

"Yes, you would."

"FINE. I'll prove it. I, Inuzuka Kiba, will be the LEAST ANNOYING boyfriend on the planet! WAY LESS annoying than Naruto! Wanna bet on it, Shino?"

"No. Why? Because you don't even have a girlfriend."

"I do too!"

"Prove your claim."

"How?"

"Tea."

Kiba squinted suspiciously at Shino.

"Take a photo of yourself and your girlfriend having tea with your relatives."

Kiba grinned, showing all his teeth. "That's it?"

"No. It must be a peaceful affair. No fighting. No squabbling. No stupidity. I will issue the same challenge to Hinata. If Naruto irritates the Hyuuga, you win. If your imaginary companion irritates your family, then he wins."

Kiba grinned again. His canines glinted in the light.

That would be a piece of cake. Hinata's father was the most constipated-looking man Kiba ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. You could irritate him by breathing. There was no way that he could ever lose with Tamaki on his side.

"It's a deal."

"Very well." Shino stalked off. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must get vengeance on that buffoon."

"Huh? Wait a sec, you can't do that without me!"

"I very well can."

"No, you can't!"

"Yes, I can."

"Oi, Shino! Wait up! SHINO."

***

The scent of salmon wafted from his home and onto the street. Salmon. Tamaki's cats' favorite.

Kiba smirked, cracking his knuckles. Knowing Hinata's constipated father, Naruto was most likely facing an impending war that would crack the Hyuuga household at its very foundations. That clan was prim and proper, expecting perfect manners and painful seiza. They never spoke in slang, being snobbish, aristocratic, and with giant sticks up their rear ends.

Naruto was orange. There was no way that "tea" with Hinata's family would ever go down well.

This would be the easiest victory Kiba ever scored against him.

"So, anyway, Hana," Kiba said, arms behind his head, strolling into the house leisurely. "This is my girlfriend from Sora-ku! Tamaki! Her grandma is Nekobaa, and – "

"Nekobaa?" Hana looked up from lunch, eyes landing on Tamaki, then on Tamaki's arms with their telltale cat scratch marks, and finally on the fluffy brown cat resting contentedly in Tamaki's arms. She dropped her fork, her face turning red, then green, then a jaundiced yellow. "Did you just say Nekobaa?"

"Uh...yeah?"

"Your girlfriend's grandmother is Nekobaa?"

"What's the problem?" Kiba snapped, scowling. "How does it matter who her grandma is? Big sis, you better not be nasty to my girlfrie – "

"You fool! Of course it matters! Nekobaa is our clan's MORTAL ENEMY."

Mortal enemy echoed around the house, settling in, making itself cozy, almost mockingly.

It was like a long, low rumble, signifying the cymbal clash of the thunderbolt. The ominous tremors preceding an earthquake, and the way the ocean receded, revealing unfathomable depths before surging onto land. It was that tingling at the back of one's neck, making your hairs stand on end.

Mortal enemy.

They were mortal enemies. His and Tamaki's clans.

Mortal enemies.

Duck. Run away. Run far away. Take shelter and do not think of emerging until the wrecking ball had passed you by.

That was the funny, funny feeling in Kiba's mind when he heard the words mortal enemy.

Hana had by now long since abandoned thoughts of eating, scowling darkly.

"How long has it been since Hashirama-sama split us both off? Eighty years? No, I think it was ninety? Just a few years after the village's founding."

"Since the village's founding?" Kiba asked. "We've been mortal enemies with Nekobaa since back then?"

"It was the worst crisis Konoha had faced since Madara himself, the Great Cat-Dog War that split the village in two. The Hokage just barely managed to broker peace. People almost died, Kiba, they almost died. It was cat against dog, brother against sister, family against family. Inuzuka against Nekobaa's clan. We were never supposed to meet again."

Hana glanced around like she was in a daze. Her eyes landed on a glass of water. She lunged for it, gulping it up like a fish dropped headlong into the sand dunes of Sunagakure.

Kiba swore he heard Shino's voice in the back of his mind, saying I told you so. He viciously suppressed that annoying voice.

Hopefully the war at the Hyuuga compound would be worse. There was no way he would lose to Naruto over some bullshit Cat-Dog Wars from ninety years ago. He couldn't.

He glanced at Tamaki nervously. She looked just as baffled as he was. Clearly he wasn't the only one who hadn't received that history lesson in childhood.

Then the cat in her arms spoke.

"This place smells like dog urine, but the salmon's pretty nice, mongrels!"

He jumped out of Tamaki's arms and landed directly in front of Hana's half-eaten plate of salmon, pawing at the spoon. A deep growl emanated off in some distant corner of the house.

There was a long, still silence.

"Ma's gonna be pissed when she finds out," Hana said.

***

"I told you so," Shino said smugly, taking in Kiba's mummy-wrapped form, the purple swelling near his left eye, the odd-looking cat scratch marks criss-crossing his arms.

It was horrible. So horrible. Everyone in the village heard the commotion. People fifty miles away heard the commotion. The Hokage had to intervene. People almost died. He almost died.

Shino held up a photograph.

It was horrible. So horrible. It was Naruto. It was Naruto and the entire Hyuuga clan, posing for a family portrait. Naruto and the snobbish, aristocratic, sticks-up-their asses Hyuuga clan. They were smiling. All of them. Even the Head Constipated.

Hinata's sister was holding up a V sign, sticking her tongue out at the camera, sticking her tongue out at him.

Once again, something inside Kiba snapped.

#inuzuka kiba #tamaki #aburame shino #hyuuga hinata #team 8 #naruhina #kibatama #naruto

63 notes · View notes

liz-allyn · 3 years

Text

shudder, part 5/6 [agent mobius x gn!reader]

After disaster places your life in danger, Mobius makes a consequential choice.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 4k

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Language; Graphic Violence; Whump; Angst; Panic Attack; Hurt/Comfort; If the movie Titanic stresses you out too much-this isn't for you, chief; Mobius x reader

2889. Hell was erupting on the planet of Olympus-V in its final hours.

A fierce rainstorm barreled down on the alien world’s rocky cliff face. A dangerous surf crashed on the rocks, the sea threatening to scale the cliffs. The sky glowed crimson, illuminated by a Red Giant that was hours from its own collapse. The red light gave the rainstorm an eerie hue. It looked like it was raining blood.

The landscape was crowned by the fiery wreckage of an alien ship. It was the intended getaway vessel of a dangerous variant that managed to escape your team through a hijacked Time Door. Your team followed him boldly, not realizing it was never a getaway. It was a suicide mission. And you walked right into a kamikaze attack.

The variant was dead. Eight other Minutemen were dead. Your still-sorta-new analyst partner was dead. B-15 was badly wounded and unresponsive. You and C-20 were stumbling through the corridors of the ship, both sporting nasty head wounds, as you dragged-carried B-15 towards refuge.

Catastrophe was a mild description, never mind the looming apocalypse outside.

“Help!” another voice rang out from the distance. It was U-91. “Somebody help me!”

You turned towards the sound of the man’s voice, stopping in your tracks. You looked at C-20.

The ground beneath your feet was subtly moving, quaking the ship with every inch. The rocky soil beneath you was giving way under the weight of the wreckage. You and C-20 knew that soon the ship would be a fireball at the bottom of the cliff. But you couldn’t leave him behind.

“Go,” you ordered. “Get her outta here.”

You turned around and rushed back into the smoke and flames. C-20 watched you anxiously as you disappeared. She carried on her rescue mission, dragging B-15 towards a temporarily opened Time Door that would lead them safely back to TVA HQ. It would stay open, as long as the ship didn’t crumble down the cliff.

You were alone again, covering your mouth with your jacket sleeve, following the painful groans as they grew louder.

“I’m over here!” U-91 hollered, his voice echoing down a corridor that was bent nearly vertically. You spotted his position, flush against the ground, but you would have to scale walls of the hallway at a steep angle to reach him. “I’m stuck on something!” he shouted.

“Hang on!” you replied. You approached the base of the corridor with trepidation. Carefully and quickly, you began to climb up the hallway via the walls. You gripped door frames, pipes, handles - anything that you could use to scale the corridor.

“Where’s A-19,” the Minuteman shouted about his partner. “I can’t find A-19!” He sounded panicked, which was never good.

“Hang on, I’m almost there!”

“Did you find A-19?”

You didn’t immediately reply, seeing from your vantage point what he could not. U-91 was less than 10 feet from you, and was truly “stuck.”

His leg was impaled on a ripped pipe that had torn away from the wall in the crash. He was hanging there helplessly by his limb. You winced at the sight and scanned your eyes over the area. You locked on to another gruesome sight: the body of his partner of many years, A-19, crushed by a beam just feet away..

“I c-can’t move,” U-91 said with a choked-out sob. You’d never seen this hunter anything less than tough-as-nails. But now he was weeping. “I-I… I can’t find A-19.”

“It’s okay,” you said as calmly as you could.His wailing broke your heart. “I’m going to get you.”

The final hurdle was going to be just that. You needed to jump up and reach the top of the doorframe to be able to free U-91. You glanced down the corridor warily.

The ship growled impatiently as it shifted another inch.

You used all your strength to leap up in the air and catch the doorframe. You’re pretty sure you sprained your shoulder, if you hadn’t already in the crash. You struggled to keep a firm grip as you shimmied to reach him.

While supporting his weight, you pulled the pipe downwards and freed him. His weight fell on you, unleashing cries from you both. But you didn’t let go.

U-91 looked at you blearily, body wracked with pain and exhaustion. He froze. His eyes went black. You knew exactly whose body he could finally see.

“No,” he cried out pitifully. “No!”

“We have to go!” you implored him. “The ship is unstable and we’re going to fall.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of his partner’s body.

You held him tightly, and looked down the corridor to where you began. This part was basically a giant slide if you aimed just right. Just like at a water park. Piece of cake.

You said a brief prayer and leaned U-91’s weight across your chest as you both slid down the walls of the corridor. You landed with a harsh thud and U-91 cried out again in agony.

You looked up at the Time Door, still open where you left it - where C-20 and B-15 had already made their escape. It was just you and U-91 alone. If you ran now, you could make it.

“You did this,” you heard U-91 moan beside you. He was delirious; you could only imagine the immense physical and emotional pain he was in. “We should’ve never followed you—”

His sentiments burned like acid, but you shook them off. “Come on!” you hissed, using all of your strength to pull him onto your back. Your shoulder was buckling from the weight, still ravaged from your last injury in the field.

Maybe you were bad luck. Maybe U-91 had a point.

“I need you to walk!” you ordered him.

“You killed us,” U-91 repeated through chattering teeth. “You killed us...”

You tried to throw him on your back and carry him fireman-style towards the exit. Four steps in and you lost your balance. Both of you fell to the ground as the ship started quaking. This time, it didn’t stop.

You felt a strong hand grip your upper arm and yank you to your feet. For a moment you expected to see C-20 back to rescue you. Your heart skipped a beat at who you saw instead.

Mobius pulled you up close until you were nearly nose-to-nose. You gaped at him like a literal deus ex machina come down from the heavens to deliver salvation. He wasn’t supposed to be on this mission. He wasn’t on the mission. How did he get here—?

The Time Door. He went through the Time Door. He came there for you.

“We gotta move!” Mobius shouted as the vibrations jolted you both into action. He reached down and grabbed hold of U-91, and you grabbed the injured man’s other side. It was much quicker to carry the man down the hallway until you were steps away from the time door.

Then the ground shifted, and your world was upside down.

When you came to, the first thing you felt was the cold. You were laying on the ceiling of the ship.

There was a voice echoing— Mobius’ voice. He was crouched down over you shouting something that you couldn’t hear.

You noticed his TVA flank jacket and tie. Paired with the mustache he looked like a detective on a procedural cop show. This stupidly-handsome, hero time cop walked into an apocalypse to save you, now stared down at you with wide, terrified eyes.

That’s when you realized you couldn’t move.

“Stay with me,” he implored, as he lifted your head out of the water.

With your ears clear, you could finally hear the chaos around you. A symphony of groans from twisting metal squealed and cracked through the halls of the ship. You could hear another crushing sound on top of the din. Rushing water.

You lifted your head to see why you were cold. You were laying in rising water with your hips pinned to the ground by a fallen steel door. Mobius was pulling up on the door desperately trying to free you.

Your heart began to pound.

The ship had fallen off the cliff into the ocean below. You were now sinking, the wreckage falling deeper into the sea, with you trapped inside.

You saw water rushing in through the hallways, filling all the corridors. It surrounded you. It was going to bury you.

“Agent Mobius!” you heard from a distance. “Get through the portal!”

You turned your head to see two Minutemen shouting as they dragged the injured U-91 through a flickering Time Door. They were so far away.

“Get help!” Mobius ordered frantically. “I can’t lift it off of her!”

“We can’t keep it open!” one of their voices echoed back. “Sir, you gotta get out bef—”

The door shorted out and vanished. And now, you were both trapped. .

“Mobius…” you exclaimed, barely able to breathe through your terror.

The water was rising quickly. Mobius glanced down at you again, and he reached down deeper to get a grip on your restraints. You both struggled and grunted, but the door only slid a little further without freeing you.

You were allowed a little more space to breathe, and were able to lift your torso a little higher out of the water. The relief was short-lived. The water was flowing rapidly and neither of you were strong enough.

“Damn it!” he roared in frustration.

You glanced around frantically and spotted an opportunity. “Look! There!”

He followed the end of your finger to a pipe nearby. He was on his feet immediately, kicking the piece of metal loose as you continued to try to push the door off of you. Once he broke the pipe free, he brought it over to you and stuck it in the space between your body and the watery ground, driving it down deep beside your leg. He gripped the pole tight and lifted with all of his might.

You pushed up on the door as he shouted, his muscles burning. You were shifting and thrashing like a fish in the frigid water until you were finally able to pull your hips out. You kicked furiously in the tiny crawl space until your legs were freed.

Mobius dropped the weight, and collapsed on his hands and knees. You were reaching for him desperately, your fingers aching to hold him. He wrapped his arms around you, embracing you tightly, as you both kneeled in the ocean water.

A sob escaped your lips as you buried your face in his neck. “You came back for me…” Your body shook as you cried like a child.

He tightened his hold on you and you felt the hair of his mustache graze the delicate skin of your neck.

“Of course,” he replied.

You wanted to hold onto him forever, letting the tears flow freely down your cheeks. It was the greatest act of love that anyone had ever shown you. And it was about to be the last.

Your eyes focused ominously on other imminent danger pounding its way through the doors.

“Moby...” you shuddered as he pulled you up to your feet. The water level was crawling up your thighs, rushing in from everywhere.

He snapped into action, grabbed you by the wrist, and pulled you back down the (inverted) hallway where the Time Door once stood. You took giant strides to push through the current towards a less-submerged part of the corridor.

It became easier to run, but everywhere you looked, your nightmares were coming to life. Your brain began to cease; your mind locked up. You were being paralyzed by terror.

Mobius was shouting something again, but you only caught part of it.

“...outer ring of the ship. If we swim we can make it.”

“What?” you blinked incredulously. He pointed towards a submerged hallway. A water-filled tunnel into the deep darkness. You looked up at him with wide eyes, horrified at his suggestion.

“The ship’s emergency systems would’ve opened the door passages in the event of a crash,” Mobius rushed to explain. “The way should be clear. If we swim now, we can make it out of the ship and up to the surface.”

You were shaking your head, trembling uncontrollably.

“We can do this,” Mobius breathed, pulling you towards the deeper end of the water.

“No-no-no,” you shrank away from his grip. “No, please, no..!”

“We don’t have a choice!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you. He took a breath and calmed himself once more, “We’re running out of time.”

“Please, don’t make me!” You were crying again. “I-I-I can’t, I’ll drown.”

“No, you won’t—”

“You don’t know where you’re going! You don’t know if there’s even a way out!”

“We have to try,” he explained, meeting your pleas with calm declarations. “If we don’t, we’re gonna die in here. The more we wait, the deeper we sink.”

He had stopped pulling you towards the water, but he wouldn’t let you pull away. He held your body close to him, and for a moment you thought he’d drag you under. He was begging you not to give him a reason.

“Please icanticantocant…” You gripped his chest desperately.

His hands went to the sides of your head, a placating touch matched with a stern voice. “Look at me,” he ordered. He was once again that person that you’d met in the time theater: calm, compassionate, but equally authoritative and focused. “Look at me,” he repeated. You did, and that was the last time he’d ever have to give you directions twice.

You reached up and covered his hands with your own as he held your face. His dark orbs were gentle as they drew you in, hypnotizing you into a vague sense of calm.

He was reading you again—reading and dictating the pages of your mind, writing miracles in the margins of your nightmares.

“You can do this,” he declared with resolve. He whispered to you at a frequency you could hear, even over the crashing current. “You’re the best hunter we have. I’ve seen what you can do.” He gazed at you like he could see the sun rise through your eyes. “You can do anything.”

Your heart swelled and ached.

“I swear to you,” he said softly, as if in prayer, “you will make it to the surface.” He touched his forehead to yours as he wiped the tears from your face with his calloused thumbs. “You’re not going to drown.”

He sounded so confident. Like it was already written and he’d read it many times before, and this was all just another page in the chronicles of the Sacred Timeline. You wanted to believe him. He was asking you to believe him.

That was the moment you realized it.

He was the only thing in the universe that mattered to you.

You couldn’t fathom a version of your story without him in it. You believed in him. And even if he was wrong, it was worth dying for.

You wanted to cry out; to tell him all of the things you felt for him - that you loved him, and would die for him, and wanted nothing more than to be back in his bed at the TVA where he could hold you and tell you that the nightmares were over and that you were safe with him.

“Okay?” he said to you, his eyes fixed.

You blinked at him, and gave him a gentle nod. “Okay.”

He took your hand in his and walked you into the icy water. You were soaked already but your body jolted from the shocking cold.

“We need to slow down our heart rates,” Mobius explained. “Preserve the oxygen a little longer, alright? So we’re going to take five deep breaths - together, then we go under, okay? I’ll give you the signal when it’s safe to breathe.”

You nodded, despite your terror. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, trying to burn into your memory every line and curve of his face.

“Just don’t leave me behind, okay?” you pleaded with him meekly. You didn’t even think about what you’d said until it was done. His eyes softened as they rested on you. “Promise you’ll stay with me?” you asked.

He contemplated you, then reached out and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Always,” he promised.

You both turned towards the water, then back to each other. “Okay, five deep breaths,” he instructed. “In and out. Through your nose.” You filled your chest with air and exhaled deeply.

“That’s one,” he counted. “Pull in from the diaphragm.” Mobius rested his hand on your stomach and watched it move with your next inhale and exhale.

“Two.” Another deep breath. He removed his hand from your belly and grasped your hand. There was no way you were going to let it go.

“Three.”

You were gazing into his eyes again, losing yourself in their warm earthy tones.

“Four. One more, in and out.”

You pulled the air in through your nose and out through your mouth, in sync with him.

“Five. Deep breath.”

You filled your lungs as tightly as you could, and dived beneath the surface with him.

It was so much darker than you’d expected. You might as well have been swimming through a starry sky, and in your mind that’s what you wanted to pretend. There were brief flashes - sparks from blown fuses, mostly - that would illuminate your surroundings. You pretended they were flares from stars dying out as you swam through the milky way.

The water was so cold. It was the kind of cold that your skin doesn’t acclimate to. You started counting in your mind as your feet kicked. You weren’t sure how long you'd been holding your breath, but you’d only made it down the first hallway. Mobius pulled you around another corner, continuing on to some blind destination.

How did he know where he was going? You didn’t let your mind dwell on it, as you felt your heart start to pound under the exertion. He knows about space ships, probably an expert. An expert on space ships and jetskis.

Down another corridor. It was getting darker. Were you supposed to be swimming up, or down? You were moving so slow although every muscle in your body struggled to propel you forward. Maybe the cold was slowing you down.

Your chest was burning.

Mobius was still kicking and pulling himself through the water, holding your hand tightly. He was a strong swimmer. Fit for his age, which was… 1,000? Time moved differently in the TVA, so you didn’t know. He was moving slower now, you noticed. Or maybe time was slowing down. Maybe you were drowning already.

God, your chest hurts.

You reached another intersection. He hesitated, looking back and forth briefly. Your mind registered the brief pause, but before you began to panic he pulled you along.

The stars had all gone out. It was so dark.

You kept thrusting your arms deeper through the water, picking up the pace. They were burning from lack of oxygen, but it only made you fight harder.

Mobius pulled you to a stop and you went through another door. It was an elevator shaft of some kind, and the sparks above illuminated the path forward.

Bright lights were filling your gaze, but not from the sparks.

You kept kicking. You could see light. Red light.

Mobius is pulling you forward now. The opening is right there. You’re almost out of the ship and can see the red glow of the surface.

Every thrust of your arms makes them weaker. Like you’re swimming in molasses.

Your lungs are on fire. You’re kicking freely past the confines of the ship. The surface is getting brighter. How deep were you - maybe 40 feet? 30 feet?

You weren’t going to make it.

You were running out of air fast. Your body was beginning to convulse as Mobius held you against him. The world around you was getting brighter and darker.

You weren’t going to make it. You were running out of time.

Mobius stopped his upward push and for the first time you could feel he was losing it too. He let go of your hand, but grabbed the sides of your face. His mouth was on yours, and he gripped the knape of your neck.

That’s when you felt it. The double-squeeze. The signal.

You breathed inwards instinctively before you realized what he was doing. He emptied the last bit of oxygen into your lungs and you felt his grip soften.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to save you from blacking out. You felt his touch disappear. Your hand shot out through the water and gripped him by the arm. You turned your gaze up to the surface and kicked as hard as you could, reaching up for the sky.

No, no, no, no, no.

You were busy trying to convince your mind that this wasn’t really happening. That Mobius was not limp in the current beneath you. You climbed furiously upwards. 15 feet. 10 feet. 5 feet.

Your head ripped through the surface as you gasped for air, choking on the blistering pain. Rain pelted your face as you kicked to stay afloat on the surface. “Mobius!” you cried out as you dragged him up above the water. His head rolled back in a way that gutted you.

You glanced around frantically as a wave crested over you both, filling your mouth with sea water. You spat as you broke through the surface again, kicking even harder to keep him afloat.

You started swimming towards the shore. The tide allowed you to ride the current most of the way. It was dumb luck. You probably would have drowned otherwise.

You held Mobius tight, fighting to keep his head above water, as another surge pushed you forward. A beachhead at the base of the cliff was visible in your sights. One more wave and you both washed up on the crystalline white sand of the shore.

Every muscle in your body throbbed, but you didn’t stop. You squirmed to your feet and dragged your partner with all of your strength further up the beach.

He wasn’t moving. You crouched down beside him, your body shaking with terror. You dropped your ear to his mouth.

He wasn’t breathing.

“No... no, Mobius...”

Your teeth were chattering cold while hot tears flooded down your cheeks. Your mind struggled frantically to process a solution.

You stacked your hands firmly in the center of his chest and sat up on your knees, counting each compression under your breath.

After the count of ten, you tilted his head back, opening his airway, pinched his nose and breathed deeply into his lungs. Tears were falling freely from your eyes onto his face, and you choked back a sob after your second breath did not resuscitate him.

“No,” your voice was thick with anger. “No - you promised me.”

You repeated the process of CPR, compressing his chest and breathing into his mouth to no avail.

“You promised me, you son of a bitch,” you hissed. “You promised you’d stay with me!”

You shoved the heel of your palm into his chest even harder. Your shoulders were filled with a strength that the rest of your body was drained of. This was worse than heartbreak. Your soul was crumbling.

“Please don’t leave,” you were begging. “Please come back... Please, I need you...”

A cough sprang forth from his throat as water shot up from his mouth.

The rush of joy winded you and knocked you to your elbows. Mobius turned his head and expelled the rest of the sea water from his lungs, coughing harshly, his whole body shaking.

You were shaking too, not just from the cold.

“God,” you breathed, overcome with immeasurable relief. Hearing him gasp for air was the closest you’d ever come to heaven.

You laid your head on his chest as silent cries racked your body. You were now a disciple, a humble and devout witness to whatever miracle brought you two together. You squeezed your eyes shut as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat, the gentle sound of each blessed breath. And you worshipped him.

“S-See,” he said with a cough, that sly smirk on his face. “To-toldya w-we’d make it.”

And for that comment, you were going to kill him.

Part 6

A/N: Ok kids, the next chapter is straight up hard R-rated. Like X-rated. Like. The. Whole. Chapter. I’ve never written anything like this. And it’s long! Is that weird? I keep thinking 4k words of smut is like… whoa… Your thoughts in the comments, please. Part of me also just wants to cut the smut in the middle but that would be cruel, right?

Did you like this chapter? Reblog & let me know! If you're not tagged, it's because I couldn't tag you.

@generalhugzzz @isaxbella749 @yodaboo @aloyssia

#mobius x reader #agent mobius x reader #mobius m mobius x reader #mobius #agent mobius #mobius m mobius #mcu fanfiction #loki tv series #loki show #owen wilson #mobius fanfiction #mobius imagine #Lizzy writes.#Lizzy writes!shudder.#mobius x you

234 notes · View notes

dreamii-yume · 3 years

Note

My guy's birthday is on the 18th Yume, there's a scarce amount of spice for him unfortunately, so for a crumb idea

Ruggie wanting to confess after receiving a gift, even though it wasn't the gift he really wanted if you know what I mean 😏

Anonymous asked :

"No thought, head empty, just fluffy romantic Ruggie with mc on his birthday"

*****

Ruggie looks SO GOOD in a suit Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→

An extravagant birthday party.

A delicious feast spread out on the table.

A well-made suit.

Ruggie’s eyes could scan his entire surroundings all day and would still find something worth to notice about all of this. Despite already having experienced such luxury celebration in his first year here in Night Raven College, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the number of things he can receive in this particular day. Not that he’s complaining though, look at all these donuts he can eat, all the gift his friends got for him, all of which something that he can only dream of having as a child. For someone like him who was born with nothing of value, a piece of cake alone was the highlight of his day, so you can forgive him for savoring such moments.

Though there was just one little thing that this year had that made it more special than the last, that was you socializing in the background, a great distance away from him. With a donut stuffed in his mouth he rests his cheeks on his palm, just staring at you with a drink in your hand, conversing with someone so happily. Even as his powerful ears twitched in effort, he can’t get a good grasp over what the conversation is all about. He’s curious, you looked excited that it was bothering him a little, what are you talking about?Glancing over to the side instead, he saw the small mountains of gifts from friends piled up on the floor. All special in its own ways, yet one thing only sticks out to him the most is the one that he had on his hand.

A sweet little thing, a hand-sewn plushie of a cartoonish hyena with similar color scheme as him, wrapped in a neat ribbon with a birthday tag that you clearly written yourself. It wasn’t food that can fill him up, or any tool that can help him in his daily life, but it was something that put a smile on his face. It wasn’t the best plushie in the world, he could see the little ripped seams on the side that you tried to cover up and uneven stitches, this probably wouldn’t cost much if he were to sell it, but who said he’s going to do that? It was cute to see effort place on a gift like this. Though, it made Ruggie chuckle a little remembering how you gave it to him, smiling ever so nervously to cover any mistakes you might make.

“Here, so you won’t be too lonely at night, hehe…” You sounded like you were joking around, and it did make him laugh, though he knew it that you were only half-serious about it. That childish reasoning was endearing after all, and if we’re talking about something embarrassing you should’ve heard his thoughts at that moment. The moment you walked up to him with a smile and a cute little blush in your cheeks, it got his imagination going crazy.

Wouldn’t it be funny if that gift could be that three special words that he wanted to hear from you? One that can confirm his feelings in return.

...But of course, he’s kidding. There’s no way in hell that you’ll actually ever say that, this is just his own delusion after all.

“Ruggie-senpai, do you want some milk to go along with those donuts?” Ruggie flinched as he suddenly heard your voice and quickly turned around to face you, for a moment he thought he might be imagining you again. He was too distracted by his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice you strolling down towards him. In your hand was a glass full of cold and fresh milk, one that would really go well with his favorite treat.

You smiled, and Ruggie couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it for a split second, he thought of how shining it looked in his part. Eventually, he did give a toothy grin right back at you, before anything could be considered suspicious. “Right. Thanks for the offer, (Y/N)~ I’ll happily take them~” He said as he gulped down the dairy liquid, washing off the sweetened flavor of the donut with a satisfying gulp. You tilted your head to the side, blinking as you observed how his ears twitches excitedly because of it.

“I’m glad that you seemed to be having fun, Ruggie-senpai. This is a day to treat you like a king after all, so please help yourself as much as you want.” You said, Ruggie couldn’t agree more as he nod excitedly and quite shamelessly in the matter. He noticed how you stared at him curiously as he grabs another donut from the plate, you look like a newborn puppy. “...Those donuts really look good too, huh...I wonder…”

Ruggie heard you mumbled out the last part as he bit into the dough, and turned to you as he chewed it. It took a few seconds until he puts on a mischievous smirk when the both of you just realized that you said something you don’t intend to be heard by anyone out loud. “A-Ah, wait...! That’s not—!” You hold your hand up in defense, cheeks flaring up.

So, you wanted a taste, huh? Well, if there’s a giant plate of delicious treats in front of him like this too, he can’t blame you for wanting to grab one for yourself. “…Want one?” He asked in a clearly teasing and smug fashion, his tail wagging behind him.

You pouted like a child, but your mannerism clearly shows that you do. “N-No, thank you…This should be something that’s only for you…! I don’t have the right to…have a taste…” You said, averting your eyes away from the temptation, but he could clearly see those small glances from time to time. The way you gulped down your saliva as well, your voice slowly lowering down the more you talk. Ruggie could only sigh, you’re such an easy book to read that he worries how you’ll even survive out there. “I’ll…I’ll go for something else, like…Like the cake or something…”

“Alright, alright~ I get it, you’re a humble little lady~” Ruggie said, sighing loudly with a shrug and for a moment, you thought he gave up in trying to convince you. However, you were proven wrong as he looked straight back at you with his usually lazy eyes looking weirdly intense. “But I like you if you’re a bit naughty too sometimes, y’know~?”

Then, he pulled you by the arm so suddenly that you almost stumbled over, but quickly caught off-guard as he grabbed your jaw in a tight hold. Grinning, he holds out his half-eaten donut in front of you. “Right, open up, Sweetheart~” He said in a teasingly loving way, pushing your cheeks together to force open your mouth, enjoying the little surprise noises you’re making. Then, he began to push the donut inside, allowing the sweetness to fill your taste buds almost immediately. Trusting that there was enough dough filling your mouth to not let the rest fall to the ground, he let go of your jaw and chuckled. “See~? It’s delicious, isn’t it? Crunchy on the outside, fluffy on the inside!”

Though still in shock and confusion, you unconsciously nibbled on the piece of treat, slowly basking in the taste and your eyes sparkling at the sudden burst of flavor. You bit a piece off with a hand ready to catch the remains, but before you could do so, Ruggie leaned closer and holds the piece for you. “…Especially when you share it with others.” He said as he opened his mouth and bit the other side of the donut.

Gasping, you widened your eyes and blushed deep red, he was so close and was coming closer every time he bits off a piece of the dough. You tried backing up, only to realize how his hands were wrapped tightly around your wrist, preventing you from getting away. Stuck onto the other side of the donut, your heartbeat began to race as Ruggie began closing in on you. He’s inches away from your lips and like a deer in a headlight, your mind and body froze, you didn’t know what else to do. Shutting your eyes tight became your last resort as you felt his breath brushing against skin, a drop of sweat fell in the side of your forehead.

Ruggie opened his eyes slightly to see your reaction, to see how much your body was trembling, your lips trembling from his presence alone. Your nervous breaths, shaking and airy with your hands slowly dampening up against his. He thought of how cute it is that even with the other side of the donut stuffed in your mouth, it almost seems like your lips were puckering up to ready themselves for what’s about to happen, for him. One literal bite away and your lips would touch, Ruggie couldn’t help but to wonder how it end up like this, it was the force of habit and was something he thought of right on the spot. He’s heart was racing just as much as yours, his cheeks are probably just as flushed as yours too, but there was not a tinge of hesitation in his actions.

…He was going to do this. You being right here in front of him, eyes closed and unconsciously preparing yourself for something that you don’t even realize is a kiss, it’s a risk that he was willing to take…Who cares if he didn’t get what he really wanted for his birthday? It doesn’t have to be a special day to show you his own side of the story, what he’s really feeling for you. He…can say it, he can show it at any time of the day, as long as you can understand.

And with the final piece of the donut gone, and your soft lips clashing against his, Ruggie had taken the first step towards that goal.

I ended up making a sweet and spicy dish lol Sorry, Darling~ (*/▽＼*)

#twisted wonderland #ruggie bucchi #Birthday Crumbs (Ruggie)

131 notes · View notes

wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Inception: Chapter 5

"Pft! I-Ahahaha!" You were doubled over the table trying to stop yourself from choking on your food while Ajax crinkled his nose in disdain. The two of you were at Xinyue Kiosk for a late-night dinner that he had insisted was his treat. You've only ate at fancy food places like this every once in awhile; these meals were so freaking expensive! Your initial hesitance to join Ajax on the basis of money was soon overshadowed by the entertaining sight sitting across the table.

"Tch...tsk..." With every effort, he grew more impatient and frustrated. It didn't help that you were watching and laughing at his incompetent efforts to use chopsticks! "Ugh! Forget it!" He gave up and stabbed one of his sushi rolls rather violently before shoving it into his mouth with a pout. Ajax turned away from you as his face grew redder and redder, but he couldn't help glancing back to see the smile on your face and the tears of joy rolling down your cheeks. Well, as long as this brought you joy...at his own expense...He let out a huff before reaching for his drink. At least whatever bitterness you held towards him last week seemed to disappear.

"I-I can't believe you...! I can't take it!" At long last your laughing fit died down enough so you could breathe, and you reached up to wipe your tears away. "Pft...! I'm sorry, but this is too funny!"

"Yeah yeah," Ajax sighed yet again, his confidence deflating like a balloon and his posture slouching. What a way to impress a girl. He should've went for the fork first!

Noticing his sudden change of attitude, you slipped out of your seat and joined his side, leaning over him. "Here," you swiped the chopsticks off of his plate and placed them in his hand once again, this time so they were in the correct positions. "Now you've got the right hold on them." Your fingers were still draped over his while you guided the sticks to another piece of sushi.

Contrary to your concentration on helping, Ajax was a bit more flustered than usual and it wasn't because of the chopsticks. For some reason his heart fluttered at the sudden lack of distance between the two of you, just like that night under the light of the Mingxiao lantern. 'You think I'm in love with childhood friend? My my my, Mr. Zhongli, perhaps you've finally lost your marbles after spending so much time with mortals,' he recollected. No...there's no way Zhongli's right about this. This is all a fluke! But your hand was so warm, no doubt because of your pyro vision...how long had it been since he felt such gentleness from another person? The closest he's ever come to human contact was by beating his foes senseless! And when was the last time he had a genuine hug? It's been years, he realized, since before the inception of my Fatui status.

"There, see? You'll get the hang of it." He snapped back to the present when your hand quickly left his. Whatever light had begun to gleam in his eyes faded just like the heat from your touch, and he watched you sit back down at your end of the table. "You're not completely hopeless at chopsticks," you smirked.

"You're right, ojou-chan. One day I'll surpass you when it comes to these cursed utensils!" He hid his feelings by attempting to put your lesson to use, but failed drastically again and again. It was obvious he didn't pay attention to a single thing you had told him to do! The boyish desire to one-up his best friend made you giggle again.

Somewhere behind the decorated divider that made up your private dining space sat the eyes and ears of the wolf. Following Master Childe around proved to be fruitful just as expected; while the harbinger often held private meetings and dinners to get closer to clients, this one felt different based on all the others that Charlie had followed him to. There was a distinct familiarity--one that Childe was definitely not faking for the sake of deceit and was shared with the mysterious girl sitting at the other end of the table.

I see, thought Charlie while his ears strained to pick up the other noncoherent whispers on the other side of the screen. He'd been following Childe around all week and had quickly picked up on the harbinger's avoidance of his own men so that he could spend time with you. Clearly, this woman must hold a special place in Childe's heart--an old flame, maybe? Regardless of the specifics of your relationship with him, it would make the most sense for you to be the vigilante Childe has neglected to capture; the merciless blood-thirsty harbinger would've gone in for the kill if it were any other person, but since it's you...you'd be protected. Sheltered. Allowed to get away with tormenting the Fatui since you're so close to Childe. You're untouchable.

Of course, this was all just a theory. To properly identify you as the vigilante Master seeks, he'd have to follow you around instead.

A chill ran down Childe's back out of nowhere; something's wrong. While he continued to struggle with the remainder of the sushi, his gaze darted to every which-way to identify anything out of the ordinary. He was sure the two of you weren't followed, and he had made every effort possible to avoid his subordinates on the way here, even setting up a private room that isn't too common in the Kiosk. Still, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched. You noticed the sudden tension in the air around him, and stared until he noticed.

"What's wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing," his voice lower than a minute ago, "Please excuse me, ojou-chan. I need to use the restroom." He slipped out between two of the dividers and froze once he was out of your sight. The remainder of the room was deserted. How odd...the tension in his shoulders slowly faded as he was put at ease.

"Excuse me," a petite voice drug him out of his thoughts and he was greeted by the waitress. She held a silver platter with a pair of matching deserts on it. "Oh, have you changed your mind on desert after all?"

"No, not at all. Please, allow me." He took the tray from her and watched her exit the room. With one final skeptical glance around the room, he returned to the inside of the dividers.

"Oh, and before I forget," Childe began to dig into a delicious chocolate desert you didn't remember the name of but seemed to be some sort of cake. "I have a business trip coming up at the end of this week in Mondstat."

"Oh really? That sounds fun. How long will you be gone?"

"For a few days at the least. Actually, I was wondering if you'd join me."

Your forkful of chocolate-something froze in midair. "...Join...you...? But I don't have anything to do with your company...I'd be a distraction, don't you think? Plus there's my business with the funeral parlor and I don't think I can request days off on such short--"

"I've already spoken to Zhongli about it. He and Hu Tao cleared you as of last night. So, what do you say? Wouldn't this also give you the chance to visit some of your friends there anyway?"

"Well...yes..." you mumbled with a slight blush.

"What do you have to lose? Think of it as a much-needed vacation. You work too hard from what I've heard from Zhongli! Besides, we can use this opportunity to learn more about each other, don't you think?" Seeing your hesitation, he let out a defeated chuckle and shrugged. "Of course, that's if you want to come with me. If not, I understand."

"I..." Well if my superiors approved, then I guess there's nothing wrong with taking a trip, right? "Okay, I'll come with you."

................................................

The quiet peacefulness of Liyuan wilderness was disrupted by an exhausted groan and the dragging of feet. "Ugh, since when was it ever this hot in Liyue?" Your clothes were soaked in sweat from the summer-like heat despite your vision granting you resistance, but Childe appeared mostly unbothered--mostly. He didn't show it, but when you'd look elsewhere he'd often pull at his collar and reminisce of the harsh winters of the Motherland. "Thank the archons that the sun is finally setting."

"We've already passed Wangshu Inn, but it's not too late to turn back and spend the night there. Are you sure you want to sleep in the woods, Reed? You'd be passing up the chance to cuddle me, you know." He reveled in your half-disgusted, half-flustered reaction while you struggled to fully comprehend his words.

"Q-Quit it! Like I've said before, this wouldn't be my first trip to Mond. I have no problem lying on the ground! Or are you saying you can't handle it?" Flipping the subject onto him did no good at hiding your flushing skin; the arrogant smirk on his face proved it. "...Why don't we stay here? There's the creek nearby, and a clearing up ahead."

Childe eyed the surrounding area and set his pack down. "If the lady insists." The pleasant aroma of packed food filled the two of you with delight. "Shall I begin cooking dinner?"

"I wouldn't mind," you practically drooled. Ajax's cooking was amazing! After that initial dinner when both of you reunited, he would sometimes surprise you with homecooked meals to take home and man were you excited for the next time he offered. A toy seller and a cook...his younger siblings must live a luxury! "I'll get some water!"

The creek wasn't too far away--perhaps some fifty feet or so. The crystalline waters murmured quietly over the pebbles and stones, some spaces louder, others quieter where the fish gathered. If it wasn't getting darker by the minute and the threat of hilichurls wasn't so prominent, you could've stayed here much longer. Not that hilichurls posed that much of a threat to someone acquainted with your fighting skills, but you've only come across them once or twice, and the giant ones could easily bulldoze through you if given the chance.

Once the pot of water was full you rose to walk back to your little makeshift camp. Ajax had insisted on bringing fresh produce since the trip to Mondstat wasn't a particularly long one and the trip was rather straightforward. Maybe he was going to make stew? Whatever he chose, you just hoped none of the food spoiled from the sun beating down on the packs all day.

By the time you got back, Ajax had already managed to start a fire and was humming some unknown tune while preparing the produce. You couldn't help but raise a brow and tighten your hold on the pot. "Um...really?"

"Hm?" His eyes slid to you, then back to the fire. "Oh! Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Don't worry, Reed. It won't bite you."

"I'm not coming close enough to feel the heat on my skin. Here," you thrust the pot towards him and he made sure to grab it before the water spilled over. Your light footsteps got quieter the further you strayed from Ajax and the fire, taking shelter beneath one of the far trees where your packs lay.

"Relax, ojou-chan. I won't let it hurt you." A small chuckle escaped him before he resumed his humming session without a second thought or noticing your silence.

You really don't remember...You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. What did they do to you, Ajax?

Your silence carried on until the crickets duetted with the occasional hoots of a nearby owl and the crackling of the fire weighed heavily on your mind. "I'm sorry, ojou-chan."

"Mm?" He had stopped rambling about some disagreement he and a coworker had about communication and was now looking directly at you.

"I'll put out the fire," he moved.

"No, you need to stay warm."

"I wouldn't say that." He drug out a blanket from his pack and laid it in the space between where he sat by the fire and you, who sat at the tree behind him. "Here. You'll lay on that side, I'll lay next to the fire."

Your eyes narrowed at the flickering flames behind him. "Is that even safe?"

"Well if the fire ever gets out of control, you or I can put it out," he reasoned and pat the spot next to him until you reluctantly obliged. He didn't lay down until you were settled in with your back facing him. Silence befell the campsite until he took a deep breath. "What's on your mind, Reed?"

It took a few minutes for the answer to come out. "Do you not remember our last encounter before my mother and I left Snezhnaya?"

"Now that you mention it, not really." He remembered a vague goodbye, but nothing else about it. It was sometime right after he returned from the abyss if he got his timeline correct. Feeling a tad nervous for whatever reason now, he let out a small laugh. "Could you possibly enlighten--" You rolled around so you faced him and met his gaze with tears. That's when his memory came rushing back.

"Ajax! Ajax!" You ran at him full speed with hot tears spilling down your cheeks until you collided with him in a tight embrace. "I--I thought they got you too!" He seemed to freeze under your touch, so you pulled away to look him over. He appeared tired and wild for lack of a better term, with eyes as wide as saucers like a snow leopard meeting a human for the first time. He was different, but you couldn't put your finger on how.

"'Too?'"

"The Fatui," you sobbed. "A day after you went missing, my house...my daddy..."

His words came out as harsh as the cold with not a hint of his kind demeanor shining through. "Spit it out."

"You know how my daddy fights against the Fatui in my town? They burned my house down and...and daddy..." Was your face red from crying all day or from the cold? "...he burned with it." Ajax didn't seem injured, so some of the stress weighing your shoulders down dissipated a bit now that you knew your dear friend wasn't hurt.

But instead of Ajax explaining where he was or consoling you for the loss of your father, a horrid giggle pierced through the snowscape. It was inhuman, what with its pitch sending an icy chill down your spine and instantly replacing your expression of sorrow to one of confusion and horror. "Ha...Hahahaha! Hahahahah!"

"Why are you laughing? This isn't funny!"

"Ahahaha! Silly Reed," he chided and pat your head like one consoles a younger sibling, "in this world, only the strong survive. Your father wasn't strong enough." The girl before him trembled at his words. "He was too weak if he died like that."

"Th--This isn't funny, Ajax! Cut it--OW!" You were shoved into the snow with an unfamiliar strength. Ajax never raised a hand at you, even when you two played together. What was he--

A dangerous glint danced in his eyes like the fire that consumed your house two days ago. "No, you cut it out! You're gonna get yourself killed if you keep acting weak. The world has no mercy on people like us. It's kill or be killed. Do you understand that, Reed?"

"Why are you...What is the matter with you?! Don't you care? What did the Fatui do to you?! Who even are you?" Hot tears rolled down your cheeks until the cold froze them in their tracks. Yet the boy that stared down at you was uncaring, cruel, and held no life in his eyes.

"It wasn't the Fatui," he muttered to himself. "Hurry up and get on with it already. What was really so important that you needed to tell me your dad died?"

"My mama and I...we're leaving tomorrow. I came to make sure you were okay and to say goodbye. We won't see each other again, Ajax," you finally rose to your feet and clenched your fists. "But you don't care, do you?"

"No. I don't. Leave me alone already."

"I..." Ajax blinked several times as he processed his long-forgotten memory. "I'm so sorry, Reed."

"If you're so sorry, then tell me what happened. What did the Fatui do to you?" Even in the dark, you could see a hint of sadness in the depths of his eyes. "If they hurt you too I swear...I swear I'll make every single one of them pay." Heat radiated from your body at the thought. "I promise." Yet even as you said this, there was another, darker, more bittersweet emotion in his expression.

"I...fell into the Abyss." Those were the only words he muttered before rolling onto his other side, facing away from you. And though you didn't really understand what he meant, his empty tone struck a cord within you. Warm arms gently wrapped around his torso with a heat softer than the campfire that lulled him to sleep.

#genshin x reader #childe genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia fluff #childe tartaglia #wesimpforxiaoupdates #genshin impact

23 notes · View notes

stargaze-issei · 4 years

Text

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟼; ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋᴇʀ

-> tsukishima kei.

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; same tattoo, shared dreams, soulmates!au.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; none.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 1.8k

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; fluff.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; the way i want to make a series out of everything in this challenge sigh.

↳ main masterlist

"what does it mean, tsukki?" yamaguchi asked by his side, looking with curiosity the needle leaving marks on his friend's skin.

tsukishima wanted to get a tattoo through his complete adolescence, his parents never allowed it, not until he could pay it by himself, at least. and there he was, eighteen years old, watching in amazement how one of his few dreams became true. being honest, he wasn't sure what it meant, but he had dreamed about those numbers a lot. since he was thirteen, the same number appeared not only in his dreams, but was everywhere else too, everytime he checked the hour, the number of his locker, even his volleyball shirt. of course it took him a while to figure it out, but once he saw it, he couldn't stop. it became his luck number.

"are you sure you just want that?" the artist wondered for the third time.

"yeah, it's important to me" the smile on tsukishima's face was completely different to all the others yamaguchi had seen since they knew each other.

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

"please, come see me play, you're always busy!" your friend, koganegawa, could be a pain in the ass if he wanted to. he could be one withouth wanting too. your job as an assistant teacher kept you occupied half of the day, add the hours at college and how much you had to study, to say it was hard to make room in your life was an understatement. which was why you never went to kogane's games after highschool.

"i told you i can't! i have... work"

"you don't work at nights, idiot! come see me play" he was so annoyingly persistent, that you had to accept, earning a excited hug from him.

after he left your appartment, only because you made him, you let yourself drop onto the couch, sighing. in fact, you were tired, but going to see kogane, one of your only friends, was something you could do. he was always so supportive, in his own unique way, it was the least you could do for him. you scratched your collarbone, unconciously going over your tattoo with your fingers, like checking if it was still there. somehow, that piece of inked skin gave you strengths when you felt like you were at your limit. the memory of a well known dream came to your mind, making you giggle.

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

you knew koganegawa's team was a professional team, but you never expected them to have a cheering squad, and local tv cameras and periodists focusing on them. it was your first time at the gym where they were playing, a little anxiety growing in your chest not knowing where to go. you tried calling him to help you, but all you got was a text saying he had sent somebody to your rescue.

"hi, are you kogane-kun's friend?" said a short blonde girl, touching your shoulder. she seemed really kind, making you feel more comfortable instantly.

you mumbled a positive respond, and she quickly grabbed your hand to take you to the bleachers like she knew the place by hand. she introduced herself as yachi hitoka, and said the game was about to start. she was also a friend of one of the players, but met some others, like koga, in highschool.

in the exact moment that you and yachi sat, the starting whistle blowed, starting with the power serve of a bleached haired guy.

yachi guide you through the game, explaining the basics to you, but you couldn't take your eyes off of the blond man with glasses, he looked so familiar, though you were sure it was the first time you saw him. he intrigued you, a lot. you were too shy to ask yachi for his name, hoping to catch it on through the speakers at some point, or trying to remember if kogane had said something about him. the game went on, points were made by everyone, and every single one the setter did, he looked at you, searching for a reassurance smile.

when it finished, a crushing victory from the frogs, you and your new friend went to wait for them outside of the compound, yachi felt the need to warn you before you met everyone.

"see, kyoutani can be a little... intense, some times, but he's really nice, and tsuk-"

"y/n! did you see me!? did you see my points!? we were so great!" she was interrupted by an overly excited koganegawa walking towards you, along with two ther blondes. your cheeks burned at the sight of whom you had glared so hard just minutes ago, wondering if he had noticed. his face was buried on his phone, too busy to look up, disappointing you a little.

"i saw you, dumbface, that's what i came to do" he pouted at your fake insult, proceeding to shout to kyoutani by his side how awesome you were for going to his game. you introduced yourself, one of they boys said to be kyoutani kentaro, the one of your interest didnt't even reply.

tsukishima had heard your voice many times before, but for the first time, he was awake. his eyes opened wide, a soft hum of confusion left his mout. it couldn't be you, you were just a made up person from his dreams, someone who he had never seen, less say heard talking, to recognize that fast. although it was you. those eyes, that voice, that hair, it was you. he had dreamed about you for so long, in his mind, at the beginning you were his same age, growing up as he did. you were exactly like that woman.

"...tsukki!" he came back to earth thanks to kogane, who was frenetically moving him from his shoulders trying to get his attention.

"get off" was all tsukishima answered.

"where's yamaguchi?" asked yachi. you didn't know what they were talking about, but you had witnessed the glasses boy, whom's name appears to be tsukki, go through a complete life crisis in the last minute.

"he's joining us at the restaurant" he said, starting to walk away by his own, followed by kyoutani and yachi, later by kogane pulling you from your arm to walk.

yachi and koga talked enough to fill the uncomfortable aire in the table once everybody ordered. a man named yamaguchi arrived a few minutes earlier, still in office clothes. he congratulated the guys on their victory and greeted you nicely, presenting himself as "tsukki's friend".

the minutes became hours, everyone, except you and tsukki, was drunk, even kyoutani had that red color on his cheeks because of the alcohol. yachi, who had stated that she was just a little tipsy, sober up when she saw how late it was.

"i have to work tomorrow! we all have to! oh go, i can't believe i let kogane- tsukishima, could you please take y/n home while i get these three an uber?" despite being so small, the girl seemed to be completely in charge of everything, probably because of her years as manager in highschool, you thought.

"are you sure you don't need help with them?" you asked, a bit curious about how was she going to handle two giants and a man with rabies by herself.

"don't worry, i've been doing this since highschool, i'm more worried about you arriving safe"

"i'll take her, you stay at yamaguchi's and text me when you're there" intervined tsukishima, he had been quiet most of the night, even though he couldn't look less interested in being there, he still refused to leave. sometimes, he would stare at you when you weren't paying attention, without knowing that you actually felt his look on you. the girl agreed to his proposal, kissing your cheek goodbye and giving her friend a small hug before you took your things and got out of the place, followed by the tall man.

the walk was silence after you told him you lived near enough to walk, him just nodding to your words. you didn't feel uncomfortable, though, and you wanted to believe neither did he. both of you were at a really short distance, and he didn't seem to care, but you smell of strawberry shortcake coming out of him. you giggled, thinking how funny it was that such an intimidating guy smelled like cake. tsukishima glared at you, disconcerted by your sudden laugh at no apparent reason.

"i used to go to this coffee house in highschool, they had the best strawberry cake i have ever eaten" your random fact caught tsukishima off guard, because he went to a coffee house with a really good strawberry cake since highschool too. he stayed silence, affraid to keep finding more shared details betweent the two of you. "i mean, don't think i talk about cake when- you smell like- i'm sorry" had you just made the situation hundred times worse? yes, you had.

the rest of the walk was as silent as the first half, now, tsukishima was uncomfortable, so much that you could tell, but still, he choose to stay close to you instead of making distance. despite being a autumn night, you felt hot, your multiples layers of clothing were now making you sweat. without giving it much thought, you took off your jacket and sweater, leaving at sight you tattoo in you collarbone. tsukki tried, he really did, to not look at you, stripping like it was nothing, so when he did, and saw his exact same tattoo in your body, he stopped walking. his jaw barely hit the floor, you could swear he saw a ghost.

"are you okay? d-do you...? what are you doing?" he got over his shocked, and in a light of boldness, he started to take off his coat and sweater, not only that, but lifting his shirt until you could see his nipple and ribs. it was then when you saw it too, your tatto, the exact same details, were on his skin, like it was printed of the same printer. you hadn't chose a design from an artist, you drew one on your own, wanting to be the only of its kind, yet, there you were.

like someone had opened a door in your mind, memories of lost dreams came back, you remembered from where tsukishima seemed so familiar. that damned dream you had for years, of him, who you thought was a creation from your subconscious, was now standing right in front of you, in flesh and bones. not you nor tsukishima knew how to react, maybe, fearing that the other would run away. a strange urge to cry invaded you, and for some reason, a intense desire to feel the blonde closer.

"i want to take you on a date, if that's okay with you"

"yes" you said not a second late, almost begging him to be with you from that day to your last.

"and i wanna kiss you right now" he didn't even let you answered before jumping to your lips, leaning a bit. you sighed in the middle of the kiss, relieved to feel him and his warm arms around you, your lips moving at synch.

his lips tasted like strawberry too.

⌙ 𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 🥳

179 notes · View notes

starlight-vixen-emiko · 3 years

Text

Birthday Bash

Hey everyone! It’s great to be posting a fanfic on tumblr again...There was a void after Lukanette June ended.

It’s Marinette’s birthday and I wanted to write Lukanette.

But honestly this isn’t too special I kind of wrote this quickly.

I hope you guys enjoy this anyway. <3

~~~~

It was Marinette's birthday today, and at the same time, Kitty Section was ending a tour. Luka promised he would make it home on time. But it was becoming late afternoon as Marinette waited while sitting on one of the patio chairs.

Eventually, her phone notified her. Marinette's friends wanted to go to the restaurant and put the candles on the cake already.

"Come on, Marinette!" Adrien texted. "It's bad luck if you don't light the candles on your birthday."

"No, it isn't!" Marinette texted back. "And it wouldn't be a birthday without Luka."

Adrien gave a slight frown emoji to Marinette.

"I am sure he is just caught up with band stuff," Adrien texted back.

Suddenly Kagami entered the text room.

"I am sure he'll show up at exactly the right moment. We just don't think you should wait too long for him. And you should eat your birthday cake before it becomes a day old. Please, Marinette darling."

Her friends' pleas made her give in, so she put on her black evening dress and headed to the restaurant with her friends.

Marinette enjoyed the company of her friends as they ate dinner together and doted on her. By then, night had fallen, and there was still no sign of her boyfriend, Luka. Then Adrien and Nino placed the big pink birthday cake on the table, and Alya and Kagami lit the 23 candles on the cake.

"Happy birthday Marinette!" Her friends cried.

Marinette managed to smile as she rested her chin on her hand and stared at the candles on the cake.

Her friends went through all that trouble, so she puffed up her cheeks and blew out each candle.

Her friends all clapped, and Nino and Adrien were ready to dig into the cake, but as they were cutting big slices, Marinette could've sworn she heard the sound of screaming fans.

The quiet restaurant suddenly started to rumble as the members of Kitty Section were nearly being run over by fans. The members of Kitty Section tried to get through the glass doors.

"Luka!" Marinette cried.

Marinette's friends were speechless as Luka and Kitty Section showed up at the most fantastic time.

Marinette ran to the doors, where even though Luka was practically being smothered by fans, he gave his girlfriend a warm smile.

"Marinette!" Luka cried.

"Oh, Luka!" Marinette cried.

Even if there was an army of Kitty Section fans at the door, Marinette opened the glass doors. Luka fell forward and landed into Marinette's arms.

Luka was grateful to be back in his girlfriend's arms, but he knew the fangirls crying his name wouldn't give up, and he was prepared for both him and Marinette to get trampled.

But then Juleka, Rose, and Ivan closed the glass door and ran in the other direction to lure the fans away.

Marinette took hold of her boyfriend as they moved away from the door and sat back at the table where Luka gave a sheepish smile at all his friends.

"Sorry I'm late," Luka said.

All his friends were completely floored.

"I told you he would show up at the right time Marinette," Kagami said, but even she didn't expect Luka to show up like this.

Adrien rubbed his forehead. "This would explain a lot, but it's great you're finally here, Luka."

"It's great to have you back, brother!" Nino said with a smile. "The guy's group isn't the same without our leader."

"Yeah, Marinette practically waited by the phone for you to come back for her birthday," Alya said in a teasing tone.

Marinette lightly punched Alya on the arm, and Luka smiled down on his girlfriend. He placed his hand on the top of her head and pulled her close to him.

"I missed you too, Melody," Luka whispered in a sweet tone that would always make Marinette swoon.

Nino placed a big slice of cake in front of Marinette and Luka.

"Now we can finally eat cake!" Nino cried triumphantly.

"Finally!" Adrien cried in relief as he took a huge piece off the cake slice he and Kagami were sharing.

Marinette was more interested in feeding Luka a piece of the cake, and she saw Luka was offering her a bite on his fork as well. Marinette grinned as his gentle eyes looked into her, and they both took a taste of the pieces they shared.

"You two are so over the top!" Alya cried.

But Nino also offered her a piece of cake on his fork, which she gleefully accepted.

Marinette had all she could ever want on her birthday now. She and her boyfriend finished the slice of cake and bliss, and Marinette gently rested her head against his chest. Marinette almost wanted to drift off, but she and Luka turned to see fans that were still standing at the giant window and glass doors, hoping to meet the famous guitarist.

Marinette couldn't help but groan under her breath, and Luka wrapped his arm around his girlfriend.

"What a nuisance!" Kagami cried.

Adrien almost looked frightened. "Luka, how do you put up with this?"

Luka looked at a restaurant employee who also seemed frightened by the fans making noise outside, and he stood up with Marinette at his side.

Marinette didn't question as they ran up to the employee.

"Can we get out the back door?" Luka asked.

The restaurant employee nodded and went to unlock the door. They would only have so much time to make a clean escape.

But Marinette and Luka took a moment to turn back at their friends.

"Sorry we're leaving so abruptly," Luka said.

Their friends gave them understanding looks. Nino shook his head and held his hands up.

"I think we get it," Nino said. "Go ahead and get out of here."

"Thank you so much for the cake everyone, we'll see you tomorrow," Marinette said.

Kagami and Alya smiled.

"See you two tomorrow," Alya said.

"Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Marinette," Kagami said.

Marinette and Luka waved one last wave before exiting through the back door.

Luka held Marinette's hand as they ran, and Marinette kept up as well as she could, but Luka was always better at running for dear life.

"Don't worry, my motorcycle isn't too far from here!" Luka cried.

"Thank god!" Marinette cried while panting.

When they finally got to Luka's parked motorcycle, the fans were at a distance with their cell phone flashlights.

Luka quickly placed a motorcycle helmet on Marinette's head before putting on his own helmet.

Marinette sat in the back and held onto her boyfriend as he revved up the engine, and they speeded away before the screaming fans could reach them.

Marinette turned back and gave a peace sign as they left the restaurant parking lot and got on the freeway. They rode alongside the cars until the freeway became quiet and empty, and they saw the stars above them.

Marinette held her boyfriend closer and rested her head on his back. Luka's heart beat faster, feeling her body on his as they rode together.

"Ready to head home, Marinette?" Luka said.

Marinette smiled and stood up a bit. She pointed straight ahead of them.

"Yeah, let's go!"

Author’s Note: To be honest I wanted to write a sex scene to go with this but I just wanted to finish this fanfic before midnight.

Yes I was referencing Lady Freya’s Biker Luka AU. It was fun writing Luka in a motorcycle I admit.

Well I hope you lovebugs enjoyed this tiny birthday snippet because Luka and Marinette certainly deserve birthday fluff.

See you lovebugs next time! <3

This is Emiko Gale signing out!

#pro lukamari #lukanette #my writing #my fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

writtenonreceipts · 4 years

Text

The fanfic no one asked for, not even me. Based on characters from the Throne of Glass Series.

When Aelin and Elide have their car impounded by police, they turn to their boyfriends for help. Modern AU. Lorcan and Rowan are idiots together, bromance at its finest, I hope.

Boys Night Out

Despite the fact that he without a doubt loved his girlfriend and the fact that he would do anything for her—Rowan Whitethorn questioned her sanity more often than not.

“All I need is the cellphone charger,” Aelin assured him. Her slim fingers straightened the collar of his shirt before slowly running down his chest. A pert smile rested on her sinful mouth as she leaned into him. “And when you get back, I promise to make it up to you.”

Rowan groaned tilting his head back when she pulled away. She was going to be the death of him.

Humming to herself, Aelin flashed a dazzling smile as she delved deeper into the apartment she shared with her cousin. Without saying anything else, she began putting away the dishes that he had washed just a few hours ago.

“Aelin,” Rowan began, trying desperately to come up with excuses to get out her request.

“Charger, Whitethorn,” Aelin said. She pointed a knife at him before sliding it into the wooden block holder beside the sink.

“And silver pumps!” Elide, Aelin’s cousin, sashayed into the kitchen from her room down the hall. Her long, dark hair hung around her shoulders. She smiled pleasantly at Rowan. “I borrowed Manon’s shoes without her permission. I need them back.”

Rowan looked between the two girls. Between Aelin’s deft ability to throw a punch and sever a carotid artery and Elide’s charm and manipulation, Rowan knew he was cornered.

“I already called back up,” Elide said when Rowan hesitated. She flashed a brilliant smile before winking at a cackling Aelin. “He’ll be here—”

A knock thudded against the front door of the apartment. Without waiting for anyone to answer, the door swung open and Lorcan Salvaterre stood in the hall. His ever-present scowl was carved deep into the sharp lines of his face, though his eyes softened when they landed on Elide.

“See,” Elide chirped glancing back to Rowan, “back-up.”

The two men glared at each other. They’d been close friends, up until Rowan started seriously dating Aelin. Since, they’d only seen brief spurts of each other. Thing improved, barely, when Lorcan and Elide began seeing each other. Still, there was unresolved tension between the friends that Rowan had no idea how to fix.

“Great,” Rowan said.

“So, you’re saying that Aeilin’s car got impounded and she can’t live eight hours without her charger?” Lorcan asked as the two stalked around the outer fence of the Adarlan impound lot.

It was barely one o’clock in the morning making everything take on a dull stillness. Gratefully there was an almost full moon over head making the yellow streetlights a little less eerie.

“And Elide’s shoes,” Rowan added. He stared at the chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. “You think there are cameras?”

Lorcan grunted from beside him and hefted a large black bag from off his shoulder. “I came prepared.”

Tying his black hair out of the way, Lorcan opened the bag and pulled out a sleek black weapon.

“You brought your paintball gun?” Rowan asked, quirking a brow. “Seriously?”

“Always be prepared,” Lorcan said. He glanced over his shoulder at Rowan. “We were in boy scouts together, remember?”

“You hated boy scouts.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t pay attention.”

Rowan didn’t even want to know why Lorcan had a paintball gun ready and able in his car.

Kneeling next to the fence, Lorcan readied the gun. It was outfitted with a scope and everything. This was a bad idea. But Rowan had no room to protest as Lorcan took aim and shot out the camera perched on a tall post in the middle of the yard. It was a direct hit.

“Scouts?” Rowan asked unable to help the grin.

“You try playing paintball with Elide,” Lorcan replied. A ghost of a smile flashed across his mouth. “Ruthless.”

As would be expected of the petite girl. An old injury left her with a slight limp, but Elide never let that stop her. And while Rowan hadn’t spoken with Lorcan much in the past few months, he knew that a girl like Elide was just what his friend needed in his life.

“I’d say we have twenty minutes before security notices us,” Rowan said as Lorcan put the gun away. He put a hand on the fence and rattled it gently. There was a padlock and chains keeping it in place, obviously, but Rowan wondered if there was a way to slip between the two fence parts.

“You think there’s dogs?” Lorcan asked. He peered through the fence only slightly wary.

“You’re not afraid are you Salvaterre?” Rowan mocked.

“Dogs don’t like me.”

“I thought I heard Elide say you were going to adopt one?”

“She,” Lorcan emphasized, “she is going to adopt one.”

Rowan snorted back a laugh and examined the fence again. “I don’t hear anything. You know Mayor Havilliard’s cut police funding, there’s no dogs. Now start climbing.”

Lorcan cursed, but indeed began to climb. It was only when the two men reached the top of the fence, face to face with the barbed wire that they paused.

“My jacket’s leather,” Lorcan said. He glanced at Rowan.

“So, I’ll just sacrifice my shirt then?” Rowan looked down at his button up. It had been a hot day and the night had contained that heat leaving it unnecessary for more than a long-sleeved shirt.

They examined the barbed wire.

“Oh hell,” Lorcan said. With surprising ease, he slipped out of his jacket and slung it over the barbed wire. As he hefted himself as best he could over the top of the fence, he tried to remember why he’d agreed to this plan. “Because you love her, because you love her.”

“What?” Rowan hissed as Lorcan descended the other side of the fence.

“Reminding myself why the hell I’m here!” Lorcan snapped back. He dropped down the last five feet, landing in a crouch. “Don’t rip my jacket.”

“You sound like Aelin talking about her nightgowns,” Rowan said.

“I did not need to hear that.”

Rowan barked out a laugh and pulled himself and Lorcan’s jacket over the fence. He received no scratched himself, but there was no mistaking the soft rip of one of the sharp barbs on the jacket.

Cursing thoroughly, Lorcan snatched the jacket from Rowan after he’d landed. In the dim light of a few overhead lamps, he examined the rip at the left shoulder.

“Think of it this way,” Rowan said bumping into him lightly, “you can put some more of your boy scouting days to use. Wasn’t there a sewing badge?”

“Shut-up,” Lorcan said. He yanked the jacket back on and stared mournfully at the rip.

Rowan didn’t wait. He had a sinking feeling that they weren’t going to get out of this alive. Well, alive yes. But completely free? Unlikely. Especially if Chaol was an on-duty cop tonight. He was a good buy but had too much damn honor to let things go sometimes.

“Silver Lexus,” Rowan said. He looked over the lot and saw mostly beat up trucks or Toyota Corollas composed of ten different car parts. Was this the impound lot or the junkyard? Hell, it was going to be a long night.

“Of course the bitch-queen has a Lexus,” Lorcan muttered.

Rowan was certain his friend hadn’t meant to say it so he could hear, but Rowan had hearing better than most. He stooped over and grabbed a piece of plastic that had fallen off the bumper of the car next to him. He tossed it at Lorcan. The other man dodged the attack with ease and cast Rowan a vulgar gesture.

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that,” Rowan said. He glowered in Lorcan’s direction. Jaw setting, Lorcan shrugged and continued the search.

In all honesty, Rowan wasn’t certain what had transpired between the two. But in all the time Lorcan and Aelin had known each other, which was nearing on two years, there was little diplomacy or kindness shared.

Lorcan turned away from Rowan so he couldn’t see his reaction, but something told him it involved eye rolling.

“She’s a good person,” Rowan called out as the search continued. He glanced over to see Lorcan had launched himself onto the hood of a red corvette. Given that Lorcan was practically a giant, the action seemed a bit overkill to Rowan. “If you’d give her the chance you might actually like her.”

He heard a dark chuckle echo across the distance between them, but no answer beyond that.

“Sure, be all broody, is that what Elide calls it? Silent and broody.” Rowan said. He mostly just wanted to get a rise out of Lorcan, see how far he could push his friend. And of course, try and get to the bottom of the hostility that always seemed to be brewing. “Broody, broody, broody.”

“Whitethorn would ya shut-up?”

Rowan grinned and ducked down to peer through a car window, maybe he was missing something in the other row. If this was some wild goose chase Aelin had constructed, Rowan was going to murder her. Even if it meant facing Elide. And Aedion. And Lysandra. He’d need to think the murder through.

The two searched in silence for another few minutes before Lorcan let out a sharp whistle. “Over here.”

Rowan wove through the rows of cars until he reached Lorcan’s side. They stared at the sleek Lexus where it nestled between a Ford and a conglomerate contraption of at least four different cars. Aelin would have a fit if she could see her car now.

“Let’s get the stuff and get out,” Rowan said. Thankfully, Aelin had given him the spare keys to the car. As he unlocked the doors, Lorcan stiffened.

“Did you hear that?” Lorcan asked. His eyes narrowed and he looked around the lot.

Rowan threw open the driver side door and paused. He glanced toward the old guard station, but it was black, looking distinctly empty. Whatever Lorcan had heard didn’t sound again. Slumping into the car, Rowan poked around for Aelin’s charger. The car, miraculously was kept clean. A miracle considering how much chocolate cake Aelin ate on a regular basis and how often her snacking occurred in her car. The lingering scent of her perfume wafted from the seats and despite how annoyed he was at this lucrative situation; Rowan made a note that he should buy Aelin both chocolate cake and another bottle of perfume.

He found the charger in the glove box. “Found the charger. I don’t see the shoes.”

Rowan straightened to see Lorcan was still examining every inch of the lot. His brow furrowed in concentration. Rowan was about to ask what was the matter when he heard the distinct howl of a dog.

“Crap,” Rowan said. He and Lorcan met gazes, neither moving. “Someone could be walking by?”

Lorcan shot him a withering look when the bark came again. Louder and definitely closer. “Oh hell,” Lorcan hissed. The bark was joined by another dog. “Oh hell, oh hell.”

“Lorcan get the damn shoes!” Rowan yelled already spinning away from the car.

Lorcan dove into the front door, half splayed over the front seat as he dug around the back of the car. He flung one sliver pump over his shoulder to where it settled on the front seat. The other soon followed. Wiggling and cursing, Lorcan dragged himself out of the car, shoes in hand. He looked half-wild with his hair splayed over his face, dark eyes wide.

“Run you idiot!” Lorcan said. He clutched the shoes to his chest and dashed past Rowan as the barking took up in earnest.

“I’m not wearing the right shoes for this.” Rowan stuffed Aelin’s charger in his pocket and launched himself atop the closest car. His shoes, indeed were not conducive to jumping on top of cars and sprinting passed pissed off guard dogs. For some stupid reason he was still in his sleek office shoes that had no traction whatsoever. This is what he got for getting a 401K and benefits.

“You’re worried about your shoes?” Lorcan yelled back. He was already halfway back to the front fence intermittently jumping onto the hood of various cars and back down to avoid raging Cujo’s.

“You have your jacket, I have my shoes,” Rowan called.

The dog leaping toward him was a Doberman with sharp ears and sharper teeth. It snarled at him chomping its jaws wildly. With dexterity he’d forgotten he had, Rowan launched himself over the hood of the car behind Aelin’s and over the top towards a beat-up truck that was massive enough it should prevent the dog from getting to close.

“Rowan, get your ass over here!” Lorcan bellowed.

Launching himself on top of the truck, Rowan ran over the tops of the row of cars toward Lorcan. The dark-haired man was already out of his leather jacket and climbing the barbed fence. Despite his bulk, Lorcan could move damn fast if he wanted.

From somewhere behind Rowan the dogs gave chase. He could hear the heavy breathing, the nails on pavement, the growls. And then came the human shouts.

“Hey! Adarlan Police!” The voice, thankfully didn’t sound like Chaol’s. Though maybe Chaol would have been more pliable to let Rowan and Lorcan off with a warning.

In three long lunges, Rowan made it the final distance to the fence and began climbing. Lorcan was already up and over the fence, the bag with the paintball gun slung on his shoulder.

Rowan hauled himself unceremoniously over the top of the fence, grabbing Lorcan’s jacket in one fist and scrambling down the other side. He dropped too high off the ground, but managed to stick the landing. He looked over his shoulder in time to see the Doberman launch at the fence, claws rattling against the metal and slobber flecking out from it’s mouth.

“Hell,” Rowan gasped.

Lorcan grabbed his arm and began pulling him down the side walk in a brisk walk that quickly turned into a run. The two didn’t stop until they were as far from the impound lot they could get. Rowan’s car left forgotten along the street. They’d been so desperate to get away and avoid any sort of detection that the car seemed to scream trouble.

Nearly ten blocks later, after several pauses to curse Aelin for parking in an illegal zone, Rowan and Lorcan sagged against a the side of a building near a popular club. Music pulsed around them as well as the thick stench of smoke, alcohol, and vomit.

Lorcan spat before looking at Rowan. “So remind me, what is it about her you like so much? Her wilds schemes that land her into trouble? Or her wild schemes that land others into trouble?”

“You’re one to talk,” Rowan fired back. He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “You and Elide are polar opposites.”

“She sends you out at two o’clock in the morning to get a phone charger,” Lorcan continued.

“You’re holding onto those shoes like they’re gonna save your life.”

“Have you met Manon?”

Rowan snorted and shook his head. He paused as the bass from the club behind them rumbled. Whatever he said wasn’t going to help Lorcan see Aelin in a different light. But he could hope that it would mend whatever bridge had been broken between him and one of his oldest friends.

“Aelin makes me want to be a better person,” Rowan finally said. He shrugged glancing Lorcan over. “And I have a feeling the same could be said for Elide about you.”

Lorcan said nothing. He merely leaned his head against the brick behind them.

“Plus, I know I can do this,” Rowan added. He pulled his phone from his pocket and made a phone call. When the line connected, he grinned. “Hey Fireheart. We need a ride.”

#fanfiction #throne of glass #aelin #aelin galythinius #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #rowan whitethorn #brotp #bromance #elorcan #rowaelin #like i dont even know why i wrote this or posted it #modern au #au #kingdom of ash #empire of storms

236 notes · View notes

cindersandroses · 4 years

Text

Digital Get Down, Chapter 5

AUTHORS: cindersandroses ( losille2000 and cinderella1181)

CHAPTERS: 5/?

PAIRING: Actor!Henry Cavill/ Plus-Size OFC

GENRE: Romance/Fluff/HUMOR

FIC SUMMARY: When SuperHank met OrcPrincessPeach on the World of Warcraft message boards, it was love at first raid. Now, almost a year later, they’re ready to take the next step and meet in person. Half a world away from each other, both decide to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon, since she was already going to be there for her work as a game designer at Blizzard… never mind that she is a devout nerd. They both have to face the fact that reality is very different from a digital world.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Mentions of assault.

AUTHORS NOTES: Love you all!

Also on AO3!

Chapter 5

Opal turned to the side as she looked at herself in the full length mirror on the back of the closet door. She smoothed the front of her dress over her rounded belly and picked at the slight ruching that was meant to help hide her imperfections along with the black color of the dress, but it did neither. There’d be no hiding anything. This was about as bodycon as one could get, and indeed she bought it a long time ago because she thought she looked hot in the form fitting silk. As soon as she got it home, though, and really looked at herself wearing it in the harsh light of day, she put it away, in the back of her closet with the other beautiful clothes she’d bought but never found the courage to wear.

That was changing. Now. Today. Okay, not today. But as soon as she walked back into her house. She planned to go straight to her closet and pull them all out and wear each of them as soon as she had the right opportunity or occasion. Considering that most of them were on the fancier side of things, meant for dates, she figured she’d have more chances to wear them now, anyway.

Even though she and Henry would literally be halfway across the globe from each other after this weekend. She couldn’t dwell on that fact, though. If she did, then the sadness set in. She refused to let that particular emotion claw its way back. They’d make it work if it was going to work. It wasn’t like she couldn’t just take her computer places and work there.

If she could convince her boss to allow frequent trips.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t also spend part of his time in Los Angeles.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Henry walked by behind her, drawing her attention away from those troubling thoughts. He fumbled with the cufflink on his left shirt cuff. She was going to make a quip about it, but the words died on her lips when she noticed he looked at her like a fat kid looked at cake. He licked his lips, smiled, and walked into the bathroom.

She couldn’t help but blush. She never would’ve believed he was truly stealing glances at her, but that notion had been squashed earlier at the spa. In fact, now she was hyper aware of his long, molten stares.

And it was all because of the wonderful esthetician who completed her facial after their massage. What had started out as a traumatic experience ended up making her feel the most confident she’d ever felt in her own skin, thanks in part to Jessa the esthetician’s enlightening conversation.

“He’s looking at you like you are the purest water and he’s just had some hot sauce.”

Opal giggled, and blushed, looking at the woman. “I just keep thinking he’s going to be like, ‘Ugh, not my type’ and leave, Jessa.”

“Girl, please. You got one of those peach bottoms that men love to get a handful of. You already got him eating out of your hand, he’s not stopped glancing over here this whole time,” Jessa said, putting her hand on her hip. “And if he does do that, I got a handful of fine brothers who would eat that peach bottom up. So you just let Jessa know and I’ll hook you up.”

The comment made Opal laugh loudly, disturbing the serenity of the spa and resulted in a few perturbed glares from other clients. Henry had glanced up, one eyebrow raised in interest. She smiled at him sweetly and he went back to his shave. Opal smiled. “Thank you, Jessa. I’ll keep you updated.”

Opal had made sure to slip Jessa an extra tip, even though she was sure Henry had tipped everyone well. Stingy wasn’t really a word she would use to describe this man, not materially or emotionally.

Or physically.

Definitely not physically. He liked touching. Being affectionate.

She did not; or, more aptly, she was not used to it in the romantic sense. But she wasn’t even that affectionate with her family. There were a few hugs here and there as a child, but they weren’t overly huggy. And then there was the other thing he didn’t know about, because she never talked about it, that prevented her from initially enjoying his touches.

It was getting easier, though, the more he touched her. She found, with some relief, that she actually quite liked being close to him in that way. Perhaps there was hope for her, after all.

Opal moved away from the mirror and followed his trail to the bathroom. She rested a hip on the door jamb and watched him finish his grooming. He saw her in the mirror and smiled.

“Like what you see?” he asked, that insidious brow raised.

“Nah,” she said with a grin. “I was just thinking about how you use twice the product I do.”

Henry rubbed his hands on a hand towel to remove the remnants of whatever moisturizer he’d used on his freshly shaved jaw. “That’s because it takes a lot to make me look this good. You’re already bloody gorgeous, so you don’t need it.”

Her cheeks heated and she shifted her weight awkwardly on her bare feet. Why were compliments so difficult to take?

“And as an answer to your question, I do like what I see,” she replied. “I appreciate your efforts. But I also love getting to just observe each other. That’s what we were missing over the last year.”

Henry stopped and smiled at her. “I watched you getting ready, and that’s why I’m so behind. I couldn’t stop watching you. You are enchanting,” he whispered.

The air caught in her lungs upon hearing the deep gravelliness of his sentiment. He closed the distance between them. The hunger, the lust, the pain, the joy, the need, all passed across his face. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her temple. “We’re going to make a hell of a couple tonight, Princess.”

“Yes, we are,” she replied breathlessly.

“Let me finish getting ready. You are distracting.”

Opal giggled. “Pot, kettle.”

She moved away from the door and went back to the bed to struggle into the sky high heels she had thought would be great to wear, but now she regretted the decision to pack them. Her feet were going to ache by the end of the night. But--the minx inside her reminded--that could possibly lead to another massage. This time, just with Henry.

As she finished up the last buckle on the strappy things and stretched her legs out to check how they looked, she noticed Henry watching from across the room with a glazed look in his eyes. She laughed at him, because it was the exact same look she’d had as he secured the waistcoat around his trim torso. “This… me putting on shoes shut you down?”

Henry reanimated with a shrug. “I have a thing for really high strappy, almost slutty, heels. Nothing like…” He stopped and blushed slightly. “Uh, never mind.”

Opal stood up and went over to him, just barely shorter than him now, and grinned. “I will have to remember that for later,” she replied.

“Oh, god, please do. Bonus points for silk stockings and the whole belt contraption,” he murmured.

She giggled. “You know, men and women are so different. You want the littlest piece of clothing on me, but I’d rather see you in a three piece suit.”

“I can fuck in a three piece suit just as well as I can without,” he teased.

His comment, and the harsh word, caught her off guard. Taking the opportunity, he went over to grab his cell phone. He beckoned her with a crooked finger. “Come here.”

She didn’t ask for clarification or even think about it; her feet in their dangerous footwear moved of their volition. When she reached him, he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her head, all while snapping a quick picture. He looked at it, smiled, and turned it around for her to view.

Her cheeks were high with color. Her skin glowed; her eyes sparkled. Her smile showed almost every one of her teeth. Everything about it made her seem so vital, so alive, so… beautiful. She had never seen herself so happy. Simply being near him made her want to beam from ear to ear.

He smiled softly. “Now you see what I see when I look at you.”

“I don’t always look like this,” she protested.

“You do,” he replied. “Let me send this to you so you can send it to Amber.”

Opal shifted uncomfortably. She’d completely forgotten about sending Amber a picture. What kind of friend was she, anyway?

“We can’t bring our phones tonight,” he explained. “Something about making sure nothing unflattering gets out.”

Opal looked up at him and nodded. “Okay. Let me just send Amber a text telling her I’m going out for the night.”

She saved the picture to her phone and opened up the text stream with her friend. She took the picture, sent it, and wrote, “I don’t think I ever expected my Hank to be this real. Going out for the night. Talk to you in the morning.”

She plugged her phone in, stood up, and took Henry’s hand. “Okay. Let’s go.”

~~~

Opal stood in the atrium of the Georgia Aquarium and sighed. She was enchanted. She’d been here a ton of times before at previous cons, but never on a night specifically designed to be an intimate cocktail party with all of the con’s celebrity guests.

What actually was her life right now?

Henry talked to Dany and Dwayne, and she couldn’t get over the fact that she was standing next to The Rock. How many times had she sat next to her brothers while they watched this giant man wrestle? If someone had told her this was going to be her life when she left Los Angeles the night before, she’d have told them they were lying. It was all a little surreal.

Dany smiled at her, obviously picking up on the fact that she had zoned out and had literal stars in her eyes. “So, Opal, what do you do?”

Opal hummed and blinked at her. “Yeah, sorry. I’m a designer and programmer for Blizzard. I have been there, oh gosh, almost ten years now. Best job I have ever had.”

“And you live with?” Dany inquired.

Opal understood Dany’s reticence to accept her into the group. Dany didn’t want anything to harm the business, and even though she seemed tough, she clearly cared deeply for both men as friends. Still, though, Opal didn’t think she gave off a crazy fan vibe.

“My best friend, from like middle school,” Opal said, moving to stand closer to Dany. She leaned in to speak quietly. “I know you’re worried about me using him, I get that, trust me. If I was in your position I would, too. But honestly, Dany, I didn’t even know he was him… until this morning when I arrived. I just thought he was a dorky British guy named Hank. That was it. In the months leading up to this I just got to know his heart and who he is, not Henry Cavill, God’s gift to women. I knew SuperHank, the cleric who runs around healing people, because he is that guy. I got to know the Hank who was shy and loved to cook and gets excited about Warhammer and new fantasy novels. Who tells me constantly that I am worthy and beautiful.”

Dany beamed at her. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.”

“And frankly, you scare me a little bit, so I won’t do anything untoward,” Opal said.

Dany laughed and flexed a bicep. “Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.”

“But seriously, Opal,” she said and grabbed Opal’s hand. “He needs someone he can love with his whole being, and I’ve never seen him happier than when he has spoken to me about you.” She squeezed her hand. “It’s not going to be easy, but I promise to make sure you’re okay and safe, and that you can be with him.”

Opal grinned. “He is pretty special.” She looked beside her, expecting to find him there. “And... gone, apparently.”

Lauren smiled at her. “He and Dwayne went to get some drinks.”

Opal felt her stomach clench. She tried to smile, but before she could muster one, Henry was back by her side. He handed her a flute of champagne. “Here, Princess.”

Opal took the glass from him and didn’t say a word. Her jaw clenched and it took everything in her to stop her hand from shaking.

Henry frowned. “Is that okay? Do you want something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine,” she replied and tried to smile again. Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew it came off as more of a grimace because of the expression Henry returned. He knew something was wrong, but the words to explain it to him failed to form on her tongue.

Not that she really had the chance to say anything, anyway. A loud, booming voice rang out across the atrium, “LITTLE BRUDDA!!!”

Opal spun around and watched in abject horror as two grown men raced towards each other and chest bumped each other like drunken frat boys.

Dwayne shook his head. “Seriously, you two? We’re in public.”

Henry came back and smiled. “Jason, my man, this… is Opal.”

Jason looked at her, his eyebrow raised. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Jason…” He took her free hand and kissed the back of it. “If he gives you any trouble, let me know.”

Opal blushed. “Thank you. I will.”

Dazzled once more by the Man Also Known As Khal Drogo, Henry startled her with a hand on the small of her back. She looked up at him, still holding the flute from which she had not yet had a drop of champagne.

Henry leaned down into her ear. “Do you want me to get something else for you?”

She shook her head. “No, I just, uh… I’m going to get my own drink.”

She excused herself and headed over to the bar, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t running away from him and running away from the conversation she should have already had with him, even before they both decided to meet here in Atlanta.

She wasn’t in line long when she felt his presence behind her.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, concern written all over his face.

“I am, honestly. I just… well… it’s stupid. I don’t drink anything that I don’t see poured myself, and I very rarely drink alcohol in public. I should have told you. It’s just my hang up and, gah... I’m sorry I freaked out a little bit.”

Henry’s eyebrows knit together. He nodded, but he clearly wanted more.

“Let me get my drink and we’ll take a walk and talk, okay?” she asked, hoping to smooth things over.

He nodded and stood quietly with her. Even though he was clearly confused and maybe a little angry, his presence was still one that calmed her and she found herself resting against his sturdy bulk as they waited. Opal ordered her cranberry juice in a martini glass. To anyone other than herself and Henry, it looked like a Cosmo. It was her fallback when she wanted to hang out with the cool kids but didn’t want to do what the cool kids were doing. Because that one time she did what the cool kids were doing? She lived to regret it.

She took his hand and started to walk through the first exhibit. Opal paused at a tube enclosure in the middle of the room full of jellies. A black light shone down into the water, illuminating the sea creatures as they performed a graceful, haunting dance around their tank. She stood quietly, Henry standing next to her, silent, thinking.

Finally, she cleared her throat from the heavy emotion making it difficult to breathe. “I was drugged.”

Henry’s fingers curled into her back. Though he tried to mask the sharp intake of air, his gasp was still audible. “Opal, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” she said, just barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t just that. Amber and I were freshmen in college and I wanted to fit in. We went to a frat party. A guy we had art history with invited us.”

His anger was palpable; it wasn’t anger directed at her, though. Somehow, she knew that, as she stared at the gelatinous orbs bobbing through the water. She took a sip of the cranberry juice before moving on.

“I woke up the next morning, head fuzzy, in a room I had never seen before, and my panties around my ankles.” She braved a look up at Henry, to gauge his reaction. The sharp line of his jaw was set, his rage evident.

For some reason, it was cathartic to share this secret with another human. Amber knew, of course. Amber had nursed her back from the brink after they got home from the hospital.

“It’s the reason I pull away sometimes when you touch me, and the reason I am so unsure of myself. I’m sorry I never told you before, but you have a right to know.”

Henry didn’t speak; he looked at a point beyond her, staring in stony silence for the longest time. He finally tore his focus away from that point and gazed down at her. His face spoke volumes, even before his words did. He rested his chin on her head and wrapped her in his arms. “You know I would never, ever do that.”

“Oh, no, I do! I just… I want so badly for you to touch me, to be yours, I just need… time,” she said. “I don’t even know if I’m actually a virgin or not. I don’t know what they did to me. The next morning, Amber took me to the ER and a rape kit was done, but it was inconclusive. I’m sorry if this changes the way you feel about being with me.”

Henry pulled away from her and put his drink on the floor. He took her face gently in his hands. “I never, ever would feel any different about you. I just… I understand now.” He kissed her forehead, but didn’t move his lips from the spot they’d touched. His next words were muffled, but the meaning behind them was everything. “My promise to you is that I will not hurt you, and it’s all going to be at your pace.”

She smiled and pushed his hands away from her face. With her free hand, she reached up and let her hand rest on the nape of his neck. “Well, then, we can do this, cause I’m very ready for it.”

With little strength, she pulled him down to her and kissed him. It wasn’t passionate or chaste; it was somewhere in the middle. A reassurance. A promise. Her promise to be as open with him as possible. His cue that she was okay with him pushing her boundaries. And she loved him for it.

#Henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fan fic #dgd #digital get down #tw:mentions of assault

66 notes · View notes

heli0s-writes · 4 years

Text

Fuckin’ Legit

Pairings: Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: Follow up to Fuckin’ Teamwork, based off this ask. A/N: More silly shenanigans. Dumbass reader :) 2.1k words

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

Bucky watches from a distance as you hurl through the air and land right heel-first on the training dummy, knocking its head off and making it bounce off the floor with enough force to lodge itself into the ceiling. The room of SHIELD recruits clap and cheer, and when the dummy’s head flops back down you kick it like a hacky-sack at Maria Hill.

“Great demonstration,” Hill catches the head and tucks it under her arm. “Are you interested in teaching a course in hand-to-hand combat with a focus on aerial recovery? Legitimately?”

“Only if you promise not to fall in love with me.” You send a wink at her and then, as soon as you see Bucky’s bewildered face through the other side of the glass, you leap after him. He’s convinced you’re dumber than a bag of rocks, but you’re not deterred by it—especially not after Maria Hill’s validation. Puffing your chest, you skip forward, “Hey, Buck! I’m legit!”

Immediately, you trip and face plant into the nearest surface. The room collectively hisses in discomfort.

“I take that back.” Maria hurriedly ushers the recruits out before they can witness anything else.

Bucky slips through the door and roughly yanks you up by your elbow, wincing when your nose reveals a line of blood dripping into your mouth. “Legit, my ass. Come on. Stark called for us.”

The air in the conference room is stagnant and overwrought with a million unsaid—unscreamed—expressions. Tony pivots on his lifted heels, finger jabbing toward the big screen where a dark and grainy image is projected.

“Care to explain this? Friday pulled it from a broadcast coming from the cell.” He narrows his eyes at you as you slump down into the swivel chair until only the top of your head shows. “How about you?” Tony gestures to Bucky.

Tony has a laser pointer in his other hand, and he shines the red spotlight on the picture where Bucky’s knees are bent and planted to the ground. The dot trails over his thigh and then over the smaller frame beneath him.

You’re there, arched upward into his torso, legs hooked around his tapered waist, heels digging into his spine. Four of his thick flesh fingers are shoved inside your mouth, pulling your cheek open, and the dim light catches a sliver of your wet tongue. His other forearm is pushed onto your sternum, holding you down.

It looks bad.

It looks like Bucky is dry humping the daylights out of you in an abandoned Hydra facility.

Sam erupts into a screeching laugh when he finally pieces it together, pitching forward until he’s flattened against the wood table. “Ho-Homygod--- This is the best day of my life. Is this the cyanide incident?”

Bucky is red from head to toe.

Natasha rolls her eyes and slides away from the table. “Tony, she ate two cyanide capsules. Barnes was wrestling them out of her mouth.”

Tony stiffens for a moment as he ponders the truth behind her statement. Then, he quirks his head like an owl, flares his nostrils, and stoops beneath the table to find you resembling a boneless pile of flesh.

“Everyone is dismissed.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “I wish I could fire you.”

A quiet whimper escapes your lips, the most pathetic noise to ever come from a human being. “But…” You whine pathetically, “I’m legit.”

A few nights later, you find yourself sneaking through yet another dusty old hideout. Surprise, surprise, Hydra is bad with maintenance and loves asbestos.

Steve made you an outline of all your tasks on his mission, written in all caps, folded neatly, and shoved it into your back pocket before departure. You skimmed over it on the plane before crumbling it up. The first bullet point had glared: NO CANDY.

Tightass.

You easily clear the wing and dispatch your status to Sam who is waiting patiently in the jet, fingers on the console. Bucky is patrolling the perimeter and you are taking the east side while Redwing zooms through the west.

There have been trip wires (newbie shit) and also surprisingly advanced attempts at entrapment so far (motion sensors, temperature regulated alarms). They’ve all been expertly pulled apart and rewired and you are taking a short break fucking around in the hallway, peering at dusty paintings of – some old dead bald guys. You take a picture of one and send it to Tony, labelled it’s like looking into the future.

Chortling, you continue down the corridor aimlessly until you hear a creak.

The knife in your hand is blade-first and coming down hard on the body sneaking up until— “Oh Barnes!” You cry happily, tucking it back into the strap on your wrist. “Good. You’re here! There’s only one more room—I’ve been crushing it.”

Literally two seconds after you say that, you turn the corner and run face-first into the door. Bucky pauses as if he doesn’t quite register what just happened before slowly reaching forward and gently applying pressure to the handle.

It’s written all over his face: you’re an idiot. You are seriously lacking some brain cells.

He leads the way carefully, swatting cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and taking stock of each corner, rifle pointed forward and alert. Behind him, your boots thump noisily against the floor and a chair is tipped over when your arm crashes into it.

Bucky spins on his heels and catches the chair before it can fall on top of what looks like a very obviously placed … box.

It’s a box.

A giant red box is on the floor, outlined with a square of white tape. Two abnormally unsoiled items in a room made almost entirely out of forty-year old dandruff. Your hands are already on both sides of it before Bucky can knock you out of the way.

“Don’t!” He screams because fucking anything could be under there!

A wild animal! A toxic chemical! A bomb! Snakes, for fuck’s sake! His eyes widen at the fading shadow cast on the floor as you lift the top away. Then, his heart stops beating.

It’s a slice of cake. And a cup of tea. A single slice of vanilla sheet cake neatly decorated with a blush-pink rose and two perfectly piped green leaves. The faint smell of jasmine wafts into the air.

Bucky barrels into you before you get the chance to lick your lips.

“Wilson!” He calls into the comm as you push his face away with an offended yelp, “They’re in the east side—set a trap for us! Get over here and bring your stupid bird too! I swear to God—NO! DO NOT!”

In the hovering Quinjet, Sam Wilson leaps to his feet and swoops out of the cabin, wings folded as he dives. “Come again?!” He taps on the comm wedged inside his left ear, “Barnes!?”

“-- fuck-- gonna—fucking--- stop BITING ME!”

A furious row of explosions blare in Sam’s ear as he banks a sharp left and lands on two feet, tearing his way inside the facility, checking on his wrist all the while. Redwing’s camera is glitching, but he can make out flashes of gunfire and what looks like at least five bodies, not including his two teammates. Bursts of white erupt on the screen and Sam’s heart picks up a tremendous pace before he kicks the door down, pistols out and aimed.

A silence smothers the room before grunting and screaming erupts again over Sam’s shout of, “What is going on in here?!”

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the exact moment I came upon my fellow Avengers,” Sam pauses, waving his hand with a bow at the image projected on the conference room screen.

Friday pulled another image from the broadcast before Sam shot out all the cameras in the facility.

It seems that the previous video of you eating cyanide had been intercepted through a bounced signal from the original recording’s output and those on the other end decided you were enough of a proper imbecile to be tricked by something as simple as a slice of cake.

They weren’t wrong.

Tony’s laser is in Sam’s hand and he points the dot in flashes five times, “Dead dudes. Check.” The dot moves on, landing on two splayed out legs before it runs up the side of Bucky’s body pressed to the concrete. “Barnes. Check.” Bucky shuts his eyes and slams his head into the table. “And… here we have this.”

Sam points to you, bottom lip clenched tightly between your teeth as you lurch forward, one hand outstretched and smeared with frosting while the other holds your torso barely an inch from the ground, paying no mind to the two elbows digging into your stomach. Sam points again to where your crotch is pushed right into Bucky’s face.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve mutters, flushing red, “I wrote you directions for a reason…”

“Excuse me,” You huff, “Cake is not candy.”

“Really?!” Bucky snaps, “That’s the hill you’re going to die on!? You ran into the door! You knocked over a chair! You looked at the one thing that did not belong in the room and you picked it up even after I told you not to!”

Steve jumps back into the grilling, “And if you would have read the rest of the list—NO FOOD AT ALL was number two!”

“Oh yeah!?” You’re near hysterical now, shrieking at the top of your lungs. Stupid men ganging up on you. “What was number three? No fun!? I’m Captain America and I’m such a tightass--”

Bucky cuts you off, throwing his hands up into the air, “Number three was get the blueprints!”

“Oh.”

The room falls silent as you tuck your hand into the pocket of your pants. “Why didn’t you just say so? I nabbed ‘em as soon as I got in there. Marked off the locations of all the cameras and security alarms—not like that matters since Wilson shot them and I disarmed the rest in the east wing. Also, there were corridors and secret entryways not in the file. It’s on here now.”

Carelessly, you chuck the flash drive from your pocket at Steve and it smacks him in the chest. Sam crosses his arms and cocks his head at you, “Shit. Didn’t know you were all that.”

You frolic to the door, “See ya later!”

Three men watch on in shocked silence as you prance down the hallway, banking a sharp right towards your room. Steve stares from Sam to Bucky and then to the flash drive in his hand.

Sam clucks, “You know what… All things considered… the girl is legit.”

He calls your name, bangs on the door with a hard fist and when it cracks open, you peek your head out with tired eyes. “Sup, buttercup?”

“Why are you like this? The cyanide? The cake? You had the flash drive the whole time!”

You shrug off what sounds like an accusation, “I dunno. I’m good at my job.” Bucky crosses his arms. “Barnes!” You scold with a growing grin, “I’m legit! I just… you know. Why put all the pressure on myself when you’re around?”

You snort a little, scratch your tummy underneath an oversized shirt absently, and shrug your shoulders repeatedly like you’re dancing. Bucky narrows his eyes. “Are you telling me you’re an idiot because of me?”

“Yeah, Buck. I know you’ll take care of me.”

He freezes. Feels a sudden swell of heat rush from his chest to the top of his head. Bucky opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. He closes it. You give him a sleepy grin, leaning on the door and swinging it wide, faltering against the knob with a yelp.

Swiftly, and true to his character, Bucky catches you with one arm.

Hanging from his hold, body twisted around, you look up into his blue eyes. They’re strangely tender, dancing over your face with an inquisitive glimmer.

The moment shatters when Bucky’s gaze stops at your neckline. “Is that—" he frowns, “Is your shirt on backwards?”

You nod. “Uh huh. Inside out too.”

His eyes slip shut. With a sigh, he drops you flat on your back and turns around. “You’re an idiot. I hate you.”

Down the hallway as he stomps off, cursing the moment the thought you were cute or something… he hears your voice calling.

“I’m an idiot— but I’m legit, right? And I’m your idiot, right? Bucky? Bucky!”

Bucky holds back a grin. Flicks you off behind his back. Legit or not, he would never give you the satisfaction of knowing.

perm taglist @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #crackfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #humor

2K notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

Guerrerita, Part 3

<- Part 2

Summary: The first time you met Nevada Ramirez was also in a dark alley.

1,577 words

“You owe me.”

“What?” you hissed, whipping around to face the threatening voice. You kept your face hard, showing no sign of weakness, even as you saw the three intimidating men who had followed you into the alley outside a shady, semi-legal MMA tournament.

“I had a lot of money riding on that fight,” said the shortest of the three, tsk-tsking. His shoes were shiny black leather—expensive, but tacky. He held a cigarette between his teeth when he wasn’t speaking and wore all black except for the gold cross flashing around his neck, pendant resting in a bed of dark chest hair. The two flanking him were bulky heavyweights, over six feet, at least two hundred-fifty pounds a piece, which meant you probably couldn’t take them. Not both at once. They dwarfed the center guy, but they were waiting on his signal to do anything. The small one was the brains. The boss. He was the one you had to keep your eyes on.

“So what? Not my problem.”

You shrugged your gym bag over you shoulder and turned to leave, but his goons stepped forward sharply, ready to grab you, and you thought better of it. As much as you’d rather not show them you were scared, this was the kind of dangerous you didn’t turn your back on.

“Oh, sweetheart. You think I’m playing? You come into my town, looking like a nervous mousy little rookie. Oh, pobrecita bebita, que tierna,” he mocked baby-talk at you, pouting his lips. “Get everyone betting against you, then the bell rings and you turn into a wild fucking animal. You run a hustle on my turf? Way I see it, that is your problem.”

Your left nostril began to twitch and the corner of your mouth curled into a snarl. “Then get some fucking glasses.” A small voice inside begged frantically, don’t do this now, calm down, but it was already drowned out by a dark, reckless pulsing in your ears. You didn’t like being threatened. Somewhere along the line your stubborn refusal to take any more shit from assholes turned into a fury you couldn’t control, that overrode your own self-preservation. Your bruised fists curled for another fight.

The boss just laughed, a harsh, barking, sarcastic show of power. His men stayed put, for now. “What a dirty mouth. Little warrior here, huh? I like that, I like that.” He prowled toward you, a crooked smirk without teeth bending his neatly trimmed stubble. If he wasn’t such a scumbag you would have called him handsome. Maybe that was what kept you at bay, apart from the knowledge that the second you launched yourself at him in a hail of fists, the two big guys would kill you—because his face was too pretty to bloody up. “Guerrerita, you don’t know who you’re fucking with.”

“You want money, go after the bookies. They’re the ones making bank,” you challenged, taking a few backwards steps to keep distance from him. “I don’t know what kind of hustle you think I’m running, but I bet my last fifty bucks on myself and I’ll still be lucky to make rent. I am not giving a cut to some wannabe gangsters.” You planted your feet at the spot where the alley curved and some old shipping crates created a pinch-point where your smaller size might afford some advantage, and refused to back off another inch.

He stopped, keeping several feet of distance, too. Taking one last drag, he threw his cigarette butt down and crushed it out.

“I’m the King of the Heights, sweetheart,” he explained, as if that should mean anything to you. “Nevada Ramirez.” He extended a hand to shake, and you dropped into a defensive stance. You didn’t like the way he looked you up and down, scrutinizing you with a gaze that made goosebumps rise along your arms. Your muscles twitched in anger and terror, and you tried to balance the two emotions so you could maybe get home in one piece.

“Alright, Mr. Ramirez. Why don’t you and your boys back the fuck off and let me go home. Because you try to follow me, rough me up? I promise it won’t be worth your time. You watched me fight. Before your boys back there can take me down, I’ll have your balls shoved down your goddamn throat. And yeah, you can have your boys shoot me dead.” You noticed the muscle had reached for concealed weapons the moment their boss got within range of your fists. “But what a waste. I’ve never done anything to you. I’m not a threat to your… kingdom? Not unless you attack me first. So why don’t we both just go about our merry ways in peace?”

He laughed again. Dry. Harsh. Your defiance entertained him, but he was growing impatient.

“What makes you think you can tell me how to run this town?” The hard edge to his voice raised the hairs on the back of your neck. As much as you liked to think you’d hit rock bottom and didn’t give a damn anymore, you’d never been murdered. As many impulsive fights as you’d gotten yourself into, you had never been so sure that losing would result in your body in a bag. He smiled when you had no more snappy comebacks, relishing the growing fear in your eyes. His posture opened up, suddenly all friendly. “You’ve got me all wrong. No one’s gonna kill you, guerrerita.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to know what’s a high-class broad like you doing here?” He raised his eyebrows. His knowing grin sent a jolt down your spine, and he looked satisfied by your reaction, which confirmed his assumption.

Nevada could read people, and he could smell suburbs on you. Nice house. Good family. Educated. White picket fence and a dog. Apparently he couldn’t smell the trauma or the failed stint in the Marines thanks to your occasional but fun penchant for sucker punching assholes without thought to rank.

“What’s it to you?” Your teeth ground together. Like hell you’d ever tell him that story.

“You owe me for that stunt in there. And I know how you can pay me back.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. “Good luck if you think my family will pay you ransom. You think I’d be here if—”

“Work for me.”

Your mind went blank. For several seconds you stared, wondering if you’d heard him right. Finally you blurted incredulously, “What?”

“Come work for me, and we call your debt even.” He looked you up and down again with a smirk. “Bet you clean up into some nice arm candy, classy girl like you.”

You took another step back despite yourself, stomach turning. “No fucking way. I don’t need a pimp, and if you even think of touching me I swear to fucking god...” Your voice turned into a threatening snarl as disgust turned to rage. Your muscles twitched, ready to do as much damage to his handsome, jeering face as possible before being killed. You would rather die than go through that again.

“Whoah, easy,” Nevada laughed, putting his hands up in surrender, but with enough dripping mockery to make it a power move. “Nothing like that. Security.”

“Security?”

“You get knocked in the head too many times?” he raised his eyebrows over his shoulder back at his guys, and they laughed along like trained seals. “Think about where you are. You just won a contest for beating the shit outta people. Security.”

“You want me to be a bodyguard?”

“Now she gets it,” he smiled, and it was pure delight. “Enforcers that look the part are a dime a dozen—face full of scars, covered in macho tats. They send a certain message, don’t they? Usually the intimidating shit is what you want. But some situations call for a bit more… nuance than these pendejos.” He jerked his thumb toward the giant brawlers still lurking behind him. One of them sulked. “You could be subtle. When business requires I don’t advertise I brought muscle. Imagine it,” his tongue darted over his lower lip. “Put you in a dress two sizes too small, and nobody sees you coming until your fist is through their skull. I bet folks underestimate you all the time.”

You almost laughed that the idea of protecting him when he must have known you’d just as soon put a fist through his skull. Working with criminals didn’t sit well with you. Though your life had been one downhill spiral since all the shit that kicked you off your shining life trajectory, you had never done anything illegal. If you didn’t count misdemeanor battery. Which you didn’t. You only punched assholes who deserved it. And you were fairly sure this Nevada Ramirez character deserved it. You didn’t trust him, and you did not take well to being shaken down.

But then he said people underestimated you. His eyes were the color of the sky before thunder: bright, ominous, and flashing dangerously. And when he said it, his bright eyes locked straight onto yours, like he knew. For the first time in your life, it felt like someone was seeing you, the deepest parts of you, and actually liked what he saw.

You didn’t have much of a choice, anyway. It was either accept the job, or have some drug kingpin sic his enforcers on you for your last dollar.

“What do you need me to do?”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba @caked-crusader @itsjustmyfantasyroom @thatesqcrush @dianilaws @permanentlydizzy @eclecticreader2020 @mrsrafaelbarba @da-po

#nevada ramirez x reader #Nevada ramirez #Raúl Esparza #Trouble in the Heights #my writing

53 notes · View notes

wisherbysharlight · 4 years

Text

Can’t Deny It, Who You Are Is What You’re Feeling

Word Count: 5685

Pairings: Demus, LAMP(and all variations thereof)

Janus is trying to settle into his new role as the makeup artist for a small off-off Broadway production, but he can't seem to figure out the relationships going on in the troupe, let alone what he has going on with the eccentric set designer...

AO3 Link

Janus squinted at the side of the stage. He should definitely be trying to make himself useful, it being only his second day, but he had just finished an eye test on Valerie and he was fairly certain he could pass off his staring as making sure it looked right where she stood in the spotlights. Hell, that’s what he’d been doing originally, before getting side tracked by the male lead sliding off the stage to the crafts table, where he’d sidled up to Patton, the costume designer Janus had met yesterday. Patton had beamed like Christmas had come early and promptly started breaking off pieces of his muffin to feed over his shoulder to the man who was now firmly attached to his back with his arms around his waist, visibly giggling the entire time. They looked carefree and besotted with each other in a way that made an ugly curl of envy build up in his stomach, but he couldn’t look away once he’d started. At least, until the props master interrupted him, that is.

“They’re tooth-rottingly sweet, huh?” Janus would deny the sound he made til his dying day, but he was fairly certain it could only be described as a yelp. The prop master cackled, holding their hand out to shake, which Janus took, grateful for the distraction. “Hey, it’s Janus right? I’m Talyn. Could you come back this way and give me a hand with moving some of these bigger pieces over to the wings for the next scene?”

“Oh sure Talyn, I don’t have anything until my next stage test in an hour or so,” he assured, carefully pasting a smile on his face that he hoped looked genuine.

Talyn threw a thumbs-up over their shoulder as they went towards the workshop and Janus took the opportunity to look back over at the crafts table where Valerie had now joined the two during a break and was laughing brightly as the actor playfully picked Patton up, throwing him over his shoulder to head over to the drinks table, and Janus could hear the shrieks even from his distance, “Rooooman, oh my goodness, you put me down right now, you big show-off!” Huh, so Mr. Leading-Man was named Roman. Good to know.

“You’re just so easy to toss around, Patton-cake. Maybe stop being so cute and I won’t be so tempted,” Roman shot back, opening a can of apple juice with an overexaggerated casualness.

“I’ll get you back for this, you heathen,” Patton cried, changing tactics to poking and tickling at Roman’s sides.

The laughter could still be heard even in the back wings of the auditorium where the workshop was, and Talyn had to raise their voice to be heard as they worked to finagle a fake-flower covered arch through the doorway, “Thanks for the help. The set designer, Remus, is out shopping for supplies today and he’s usually the one who actually moves this kind of stuff, but the director needs this for some sort of choreography today.”

“No problem at all,” Janus assured again, eager to prove his usefulness. “Happy to help when I can.”

By the time they finished getting the bulky prop to the proper side of the stage, the break was over, Roman was back onstage with Valerie, Patton had gone back to the far wings of the stage to continue working, and Janus had a new actor to meet and a fake scar to attempt to do in a transition that lasted less than 10 minutes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Less than a week later and Janus once again found himself squinting to the side of the stage, but this time it was up higher in the sound and light booth. Actors were scattered throughout the theater, running lines with each other, and the Technical Director seemed to be taking the opportunity to work with the Lighting Technician on setting up a few cues. Nothing out of the ordinary, most of the productions Janus had worked on in school worked the same way, no, the interesting part was just how close the Technical Director was to the Lighting Technician in the booth as they worked. They seemed to be able to communicate without speaking at all, effortlessly moving around each other and flicking different settings and somehow coming out with the correct configuration without ever saying a word.

The ease around each other was palpable, and that was what caught Janus off guard. He’d worked with the TD, Logan, once, and that interaction had been succinct, professional, and brokered no nonsense. Now, though, Logan’s shoulders seemed to loosen up the more time he spent up in the lighting box, and every once in a while, when the technician was triple or quadruple checking a light, Janus could see the TD huff and roll his eyes teasingly, then dodge an equally teasing swat to his side or shoulder. And he’d smile , a real smile, not a smirk or a placating pleasantry, and Janus felt that nasty longing that was tinged green with jealousy snake up into his throat again.

He forced himself to look away, finally, just to see Roman sitting in the makeup chair looking thoroughly amused and he was suddenly glad he’d chosen to wear a full face of makeup today, not just covering his left side like usual, because now he could at least hope that his thick foundation would cover up the way his face flamed up at getting caught staring at a couple again . “Hello Roman, did you need something?” he asked, going to his workstation to avoid having to look at the actor’s smirking face anymore.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes, yes, yes, I did, I was wondering if I would be able to offer up my time for you to practice the second act’s possession effects, as I know you were saying it would be difficult to practice on a dummy, and I am much further ahead in my memorization than the others,” Roman rattled off, and when Janus turned back to him, he quickly averted his eyes from the lighting box. Hm, so apparently he wasn’t the only one looking, that was interesting…

“That would be great actually, thank you. Getting that pallid coloring done three times in one intermission is going to be tough unless I do it a few times ahead of the show, I appreciate it.” He brought his rolling cart over to the makeup chair and crouched in front of Roman, watching carefully without giving away that he was focused on anything other than the makeup. After the third time Roman’s eyes strayed towards the light box he decided to speak up, “What’s the lighting technician’s name? Haven’t met him yet.”

“Oh you mean Tall, Dark, and Moody? That’s Virgil, him and Logan grew up together so they’re pretty used to each other by now, it’s really great to watch them work,” Roman enthused, and that made more sense, Roman was just appreciating the well oiled machine. “We all send Logan up there when it looks like he’s ready to murder the next person to say ‘slightly behind schedule’. Or when Virge gets new cues and gets so overwhelmed he starts gnawing on that giant hoodie he’s always got on. They really good at chilling each other out.”

Janus absorbed all of this as he brushed a small test bit of gray over Roman’s cheek bones, mulling it over and ultimately content to just let Roman talk. By the time he was done with the ghostly sheen, he had learned that Logan, Virgil, Patton, and Roman all went to college together and all joined the budding troupe together straight afterwards, even though they all had offers for separate larger companies scattered across the country. It was clear that Roman would talk about his little group forever if he were allowed to, had spent almost 10 minutes alone enthusing about some cosplay work Patton did in college with this adorably smitten twinkle to his eye, but Janus had to let him up from the chair eventually. When he stepped back to admire his work, though, Roman didn’t make any moves to get up. “Spent all this time talking about us, how about you? What brings you to our humble little company instead of some larger agency?”

Janus startled a bit, not used to getting asked anything about himself. “I suppose I was intrigued by the premise of the play, and wanted to do more hands-on work than most agencies allow new graduates.” It wasn’t quite a lie, and Roman didn’t need to know that this particular theater had been Janus’s saving grace growing up, how he owed the owner, Thomas, everything, how…

“My brother is the exact same way. Not happy unless he has full, creative control over his sets,” Roman laughed, and Janus tilted his head curiously. “I mean it’s better that he has an outlet for his thoughts. You don’t wanna know what he gets like when you try to stifle him, woo boy. Much better he swing a hammer at the scenery than at my head.”

“It was a wiffle ball bat, I only hit you once, and you didn’t even have a concussion. And beside that, you practically dared me to.”

Janus spun so quickly his beanie tilted slightly, and he fidgeted with his gloves to hide the fact that his heart was racing, but his face remained carefully even, “Remus. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” The man had a way of blending into the shadows until you least wanted him to jump out at you. Janus had been too startled to even react the first time, but Remus had taken it as though he wasn’t scared at all and was now determined to make him scream. Luckily, Janus had great experience controlling his expressions, the few times he’d been caught daydreaming observing relationships around the theater notwithstanding.”Were you looking for Roman or are you just here to bother me?”

Remus swooned dramatically, “Bother! You wound me! Nono, Joan sent me, they want Roman on stage to help Virgey-poo calibrate the acoustics after I, er, nudged one of the speakers over. Accidentally, of course.”

Roman rolled his eyes and scoffed, “You pissing Virgil off has never once been an accident. But I’ll head over there before Tickle-Me-Emo has a heart attack.” He turned to Janus, patting him on the back, “Good luck with him, don’t let him near anything sharp or he’ll try to cut his own bangs in the name of creating a new hairstyle.”

“I can handle him just fine,” Janus drawled, and pointedly ignored the suggestive look Remus gave him in return. Instead, he focused again up on the lighting box where Virgil seemed to be ranting, hands flying in front of his face, as Logan patiently listened. Roman finally got up on the stage and Virgil started messing with the sound board, forehead creased in concentration, and Janus pretended there wasn’t a tug in his heart when Logan leaned over to smooth the skin out just between his eyebrows with his thumb, earning himself a small but genuine smile, before heading back down to work.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three weeks into rehearsals and Janus was really getting the hang of his new life. He and his roommate, Remy, the publicity manager for the theater, had moved into a new apartment closer to the theater with Remy’s boyfriend Emile, as between the three of them they could now afford more than what basically amounted to a shoebox. He’d made friends, something he’d thought was somewhat of a pipe dream before. He absolutely adored his job. Two to three times a day he would snag actors to do test runs of looks and see how they turned out on stage, tweaking things here and there when he could. The rest of the time he would help out around the theater, helping Logan with keeping Remus in line and on schedule(Remus would sometimes demand only Janus be allowed in his studio, and Janus had found that Remus was much more bearable when he felt he was paid attention to. Pleasant, even, if a little random and impulsive), shopping for props for Talyn, running lines with Valerie or Roman or Terrence or the background actors when the others were busy, or, most often, assisting Patton in costuming.

Apparently, Patton was supposed to have an assistant but they’d had a family emergency and Patton had brushed off the idea of trying to find someone else on short notice. Janus had noticed, of course, that Patton came in earlier and stayed later than almost anyone else and so he went out of his way to help where he could. He had some basic sewing experience and worked well as a sounding board for Patton to bounce his ideas off of while he worked, and Janus was thrilled to be able to be helpful. He had also noticed Patton was more willing to take breaks if he thought Janus needed one and Janus was not above being a bit dramatic with his yawns to get Patton to relax for a few minutes. He’d become fond of the guy.

He’d just gone to the craft table to grab something Patton would eat, intending to goad him into taking 15 minutes off. He’d gotten a bit sidetracked when Remus decided to “stumble” into him, leaving a large forest-green handprint right in the center of his chest and loudly declare that he needed to take it off (Janus made a note in his head to spend the next day in his workshop, he was definitely looking for attention, and he was missing the rowdier man a bit besides), but he had still only been gone about 20 minutes, so he was surprised when he heard another voice coming from the sewing room aside from Patton. “- and we need to make sure Valerie’s weighted dress is done before next Wednesday, she needs to rehearse the choreography with the added material-”

“Lolo, relax. I’ll get it done, I promise,” came Patton’s voice, light and almost teasing in a way Janus had never heard before. He’d almost describe it as… flirtatious? But that didn’t make any sense… “You’re starting to sound like Virgil with all that fretting. You know me, you know I never break a promise.”

“Y-yes,” and now Logan sounded flustered, which really was out of character, “Of course, Patton, I just wanted to make sure you had all the resources you needed and were not overextending yourself-”

Patton cut him off again, and this time Janus got the impression he was very amused, “I’ve got everything I need, right here, Mr. Berry. I even promise I’ll do something to relax tonight, sound good? Pick up a bottle of wine and have a night in, maybe watch a movie, something to really decompress…” Janus got the distinct feeling he was missing something, because Patton was speaking as though he had a completely different meaning behind the words, but they seemed completely innocent.

Janus finally decided to head into the studio then, feeling like he’d been eavesdropping on something private, and when he saw Patton he was leaning against his desk casually, no indication in his body language at all that he’d been flirting like Janus thought he’d heard. He thought maybe he’d been mistaken, but Logan was adjusting his tie even though the knot was perfect, like always, and had a very faint pink to his cheeks that he would have missed if he weren’t paying attention. He lightly cleared his throat before speaking, “Hello Janus. I was just heading out. Thank you for assisting Patton with keeping to the deadlines, it is much appreciated. Patton, we can continue our discussion later.” Patton smiled brightly, looking like the picture of innocence, and waved as Logan headed back towards Remus’s workshop and Janus repressed a wince. Yeah, he’d definitely visit tomorrow if Logan was going to get on his case about deadlines too.

He pasted a smile on, making sure not to indicate he’d heard anything before coming in, “Hey Pat, I grabbed some cookies and tea from the craft table. Remus sends his regards.” He gestured wryly to the graphic tee shirt he held in his hands, still grateful he’d worn an undershirt today.

Patton beamed and took a cookie, looking all the more innocent when he bounced a bit on his toes, curls catching in the light as they moved with him, “Woo! You rock, we definitely earned a few cookies today!” He tilted his head curiously at the stain, then nodded like he’d decided something, “I can definitely get that out, by the way, just need some vinegar and washing soda. Re does stuff like that to Roman all the time. Leave it with me and it’ll be perfectly fine by tomorrow!”

Janus smiled again, feeling taken care of in a way he hadn’t in a long time, and it felt more real this time, “Thanks Patton.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janus was making good on his promise to himself the next day, lounging on a chair next to the open door of Remus’s workshop even though it was technically his day off. He came into the theater every day no matter what just in case anyone needed assistance, but it was nice to not feel guilty for not doing his own work. He people-watched between the points where Remus would ask for his opinion on a piece or start up a seemingly unrelated conversation, letting the silence fall when Remus needed to focus. He’d been watching Virgil up in the tech box, messing with the settings for the lighting of one of Valerie’s solo scenes while she rehearsed. He had that focused crease in his brow again but he didn’t look nearly as murderous as when Remus screwed around with his speakers, so Janus didn’t feel the need to get Logan yet, but when the door opened behind the engineer he’d still been expecting the technical director to come in.

What happened instead was much more confounding to Janus. Patton burst through the door, looking worn down and cranky, and paced the room a few times with his hands waving around. Virgil took his headphones off without turning around and nodded along, not breaking focus at all but still responding from what Janus could see. Then, seemingly out of steam, the costume designer maneuvered around cords and computers over to Virgil’s chair and promptly ducked under his arm and threw a leg over Virgil’s before burrowing his face into Virgil’s neck. Virgil didn’t flinch at all, continuing to focus on the lighting of the scene by simply arranging Patton slightly on his lap so he could tuck his own head over his shoulder.

At some point in the performance on stage, Valerie and the director aimed a thumbs up at the light box, and Virgil gave a self satisfied smile as he leaned back and finally wrapped his arms around Patton in return.

“Jannie?” Remus called, sitting back from his stage setting, a beautiful star-lit grove, “Do you think you could make me look like a werewolf?”

Janus blinked at him for a couple moments, not knowing how to respond, before he just shrugged, “Sure. Might look a little weird with your mustache though.”

Remus nodded, once, with finality to it, “How about a tentacle monster?”

“Same answer,” Janus replied, quicker this time now that he knew where Remus’s head was at.

“Huh. I think I’d like to try being a tentacle monster at some point. Could probably terrify the shit outta Roman. Not to mention all the benefits of tentacles.”

Janus laughed, charmed as always by Remus’s ability to just say whatever he felt like without hiding anything, “You name the time and place and I’ll be there, Remus.”

Remus gave him a blinding smile and Janus felt his breath catch a bit. God, this whole thing was so stupid but he couldn’t bring himself to care at all. He found that he’d do just about anything to make Remus smile like that again. “It’s really nice to have a partner in crime now,” Remus enthused, twirling his paintbrush without a care in the world if he splashed himself with paint.

“Yeah, Re, I get what you mean.”

By the time Remus had gone back to work splattering a blood stain artfully over a tree in the middle of the otherwise beautiful landscape, Patton had left the tech box and Virgil was back to his computer with his headphones on.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was one week til opening night, and Janus had been sent to find Remus, who had apparently announced he was going on a quest for inspiration which alarmed pretty much everyone who knew him, but instead he’d stumbled upon Logan, alone in the orchestra pit, looking like he was ready to scream as he tugged at the padlock on a crate. Janus made his way over and tapped Logan on the shoulder lightly, “Hey, everything alright?”

Logan’s eyes were fiery as he responded, and Janus was just a little bit taken aback, “The previous production group left the alternate curtain ropes in this container, nicely labeled and everything, except the box has this godforsaken lock and I do not want to have to pay for bolt cutters. Or have the time to buy them before dress rehearsals. It’s rather… infuriating.”

Janus laughed a bit and knelt down next to the box, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and taking a long thin piece of metal out, “You don’t have to do that, rotation locks like this are ridiculously easy to pick.” He manipulated the piece of metal up under the last rotation dial and pressed up, trying to listen for the click even though Roman and Valerie were rehearsing their final duet up on stage. He finally got the lock to pop open and turned to show it to Logan, only to find him thoroughly distracted by the scene on the stage.

Janus could understand, he had no interest in Roman Prince( his brother on the other hand...) but even he thought the way he was waltzing Valerie around the stage was a bit hypnotizing, the lyrics soft and sultry and romantic for the final number of the performance. Logan seemed to be completely entranced, singing along under his breath to Valerie’s piece and following their movements carefully. His eyes were filled with nothing short of adoration as he swayed to the music and as Janus watched carefully, the movements matched up fairly evenly to Valerie’s part in the dance as well. Logan didn’t look away until the director had called for a cut for adjustments. He shook himself slightly, seeming to remember all of a sudden that Janus was there, and flushed brightly as he took the lock from Janus, “Oh. Um. Thank you, very much. Where did you learn to pick locks like that?”

Janus could practically envision his mask slipping into place, covering the memories of manipulating the door to the theater open for what must have been the hundredth time only to come face to face with the new owner…

“Oh it’s barely a party trick, just something I picked up along the line. Let me know if you need any more street-rat techniques,” he brushed off with a wry grin, waving a hand dismissively, “Anywho, any chance you’ve seen Remus around?”

Logan eyed him a bit critically for a moment then seemed to choose not to push it further, “Yes, I believe I saw him lurking back by your station actually.”

Janus repressed a disappointed sigh at himself. Of course, Remus had come looking for him if something had upset him. He took off for the makeup room quickly, leaving Logan behind to stare up at the stage again while Roman began rehearsing the solo piece of the song. He didn’t miss the small wink Roman aimed down at the pit when the director had turned to answer a question, and filed that bit of information away with Logan’s admiring gaze to analyze after he’d made sure Remus was alright.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janus was not used to anyone being in his station before him, but he was starting to become used to being surprised, so he didn’t even really react to seeing Roman and Virgil commandeering one of his makeup chairs, Roman’s hands buried in Virgil’s long black and purple hair, twisting it into intricate braids as they argued fiercely. “No, Virge, you don’t get to say ‘American Idiot’ is your favorite Broadway song. That doesn’t count.”

“It totally counts. You wouldn’t say ‘Honey, Honey’ doesn’t count, even though that’s just an ABBA song!”

“Don’t you dare bring Mamma Mia into this, that is a classic!”

“So is American Idiot!”

“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty,” Janus droned, smiling at the Venti Iced Mocha sitting on his rolling tray, ice not even melted yet, with a little doodle of a green dragon blowing fire at what he could only assume was Roman on one side, and a python wearing Janus’s signature beanie on the other. Virgil and Roman both turned to glare at him and he smirked back, lounging back in his chair and taking a long sip from his coffee in a loose impression of Remy, “What are you two doing in my domain aside from attempting to drive each other up the wall?”

“Princey was having a minor meltdown about opening night tomorrow, so I told him he could braid my hair,” Virgil told him, squinting curiously at the cup like he was trying to make out what the doodles were.

“Not true! Virgil was freaking out about opening night, not me, and he asked me to braid his hair,” Roman whined, though Janus noted that the whole time Roman’s hands never stopped moving and Virgil seemed to lean further and further into them, both their shoulders relaxing more and more as the braids took a more concrete form, “Though I will admit it is somewhat of a ritual for us at this point. Been doing this since freshman year of college when Virge first started growing his hair out.”

“Barely had enough for one braid back then, you would just do it and take it out over and over again while I ran lines with you,” Virgil commented fondly, fidgeting with the end of a piece which was left down.

“And I didn’t have the skills which I do now, of course.”

“Oh, no doubt. Maybe I’ll cut it so you could test that theory.”

“Don’t you dare!” Janus looked up from his thank you text to Remus(he’d responded with a giant squid emoji, followed by a dirty joke about proper thank yous which Janus found unreasonably funny), tilting his head curiously at Virgil’s smirk and Roman’s blush. “I-I mean, it’s your hair, obviously, but it definitely suits you being grown out.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave it be. Just for you,” Virgil shot back, and Janus felt like he could see the years of friendship in his smile.

Roman and Virgil stuck around for another hour until the director got there, ribbing each other over everything from music preference to sleeping habits to, bizarrely, the dark undertones of Disney movies, not even noticing when Janus slipped off to Remus’s workshop to have his own minor meltdown about opening night, lost in their own little world.

(Remus already had a hammer and some messed-up pottery out, actually encouraged him to smash stuff, cheering him on enthusiastically, and Janus thought he might have found his own pre-show ritual. He didn’t even realize he hadn’t felt envious of Roman and Virgil’s easy camaraderie and teasing affection at all until he was lying in bed that night.)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janus made a downright embarrassing shriek when he felt a mustache rub against his neck and Terrence broke off from their conversation to the living room with a playful eye roll, leaving the other two in the kitchen. “Come on Re, don’t start anything you can’t finish in public,” he teased lightly, patting Remus on the cheek, the adrenaline rush from three successful shows, the pure joy at being officially offered a full time position within the theater troupe from Thomas (from Thomas , who took a chance on the high school dropout who snuck in to the theater to use the big mirrors and the real theater makeup and listen to music echo through the empty stage. Thomas who so generously gave him the recommendation letter he needed to get the scholarship to cosmetology school. Thomas who found him a roommate so he wouldn’t have to stay with an older brother that didn’t understand him at all. Thomas who had seen his talent for deception and pushed him to turn it into art. Thomas who Janus owed his entire life to...) and the three vodka sodas in his system making it difficult to even begin to hide his flirtation, especially since he was fairly confident at this point he wouldn’t be rebuffed.

He felt more than heard the laugh that followed as Remus pulled away, still leaving his arms wrapped around Janus’s waist, a testament to the comfortable something (Janus refused to call it a relationship, even in his head, lest he burst the perfect bubble of happiness) they’d fallen into, “Come on Jan, you can’t deprive me of finally getting revenge on my brother for the years of cast-party-brand PDA he’s put me through.”

Janus stiffened and he turned to face Remus quickly, bracing himself on Remus’s chest when he started to trip a bit out of tipsiness. He also blamed the tipsiness for his lack of ability to cover up his curiosity, “PDA? What do you mean? I’ve spent the last 6 weeks trying to figure out who would end up with who in that group, but Roman’s already seeing someone?”

Remus smirked at him, clearly enjoying a less-inhibited Janus, and didn’t audibly answer. Instead, he laced their fingers together(Janus was not blushing like he was a middle-schooler. He wasn’t. If his foundation just so happened to help hide that lie then so be it.) and led him back towards the living room where a particularly rowdy game of beer pong was being played with Logan and Virgil on one side with only one cup in front of them and Joan and Talyn on the other with two, all four of them looking like a giant weight was off their shoulders with the last show of the first weekend over and done with and four whole days before the next one. Patton and Roman stood behind Logan and Virgil’s side, alternating between making ridiculous and distracting movements and singing along to whatever was playing through the speakers. The other team missed both their shots and Virgil snagged the balls, handing one to Logan before holding the other behind him. Patton leaned in and blew on the ball, then leaned further to press a kiss to Virgil’s cheek with a visible giggle while Roman mimicked his motions with Logan. Oh, ok, that kinda made sense for how the pairings worked out, he supposed…

Janus’s head tilted in confusion as Roman and Patton promptly switched positions and repeated their actions before they actually fell back. Logan and Virgil then glanced at each other from the corners of their eye, smirked, and sent both balls flying in unison. They didn’t even circle the rim, sinking easily, and the room erupted in chants to “chug” that Joan and Talyn took good naturedly on one knee as they emptied their cups.

Janus wasn’t watching the prop master and stage manager, though, instead focused on where Logan had apparently flung himself into Virgil’s arms in celebration, wrapped his legs around his waist, and promptly kissed him like he was trying to devour him, glasses tilted with no attempt being made to adjust them. Patton laughed brightly and tugged on Virgil’s sleeve to bring them both over to the couch with a practiced ease that said this was a fairly regular occurrence, Roman practically skipping as he followed. Logan transferred to Roman’s lap once they were settled, kissing him with the same amount of barely-restrained hunger, and Patton took his place in Virgil’s, pressing small kisses up his throat at the same time as he hooked his pinky with Logan’s and nudged his feet under Roman’s thigh, at which point Janus looked away, blushing furiously at just how shameless they all were.

He turned back to Remus with wide eyes just to find him openly laughing at him, “How long have you spent trying to figure that out, hm? For someone so smart you’re kinda a dumbass sometimes.”

Janus pouted, still feeling flustered and embarrassed that he’d somehow missed the idea of polyamory, but in the back of his mind he was delighted that the angry green jealous monster was no longer clawing at his insides at seeing so much open affection. He finally had someone who replaced that nasty curl with fluttering butterflies. Someone who gave a shit about him, and who was darkly hilarious and creative and didn’t hide anything but didn’t push Janus to be completely open in return. Someone Janus could truly see a future with, someone he felt he could trust.

He made a calculated decision, and his mouth turned up in a smirk as he grabbed Remus’s wrist and tugged him over to the pong table, “Tell you what, Re-Re. You help me win and you can have as much revenge as you want.”

Remus’s eyes went dark but his smile was blinding, “And if we lose?”

Janus grinned back, sharp and wicked, and easily sunk his first ball despite Remy’s boyfriend Emile jumping around ridiculously on the other side, “Guess you’ll just have to keep up so we don’t.” Remus’s grin widened even further at the challenge and he nodded resolutely, focus zeroed in.

For all the talk of revenge, they didn’t even notice Roman’s indignant squawk when Remus pinned Janus to the wall before Remy could even take the last cup off the table.

#ts lamp #analogical #logicality #prinxiety #moxiety #royality #logince #demus #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sorry if you saw this on ao3 already lol #i wanted it in this format too #my writing #dukeceit

147 notes · View notes

pocket-luv101 · 3 years

Text

Summary: Kuro and Mahiru celebrate their daughter’s birthday. (KuroMahi, Fem Mahiru)

“Happy birthday, Machi!” Tsurugi cheered as he entered the apartment. His call was quickly answered by Machi’s excited squeal and the little girl ran to her uncle. Mahiru followed her to greet Tsurugi in the doorway. He held a large present box and he placed it on the ground so he could hug his niece. “How is my favourite niece?”

“Machi is excited! Mama made a big cake! She said that we had to wait for everyone to come before we can eat. But, Machi’s hungry for cake! It has a bunch of shiny strawberries.” She made wide gestures as she described the cake. Yumikage and Jun entered the house with presents as well. Mahiru couldn’t contain her smile as she watched Machi interact with her uncles.

Machi noticed a fourth person enter the house but she didn’t recognize him. She pointed to him and declared, “Old Man smells like smoke! That’s bad for you!”

“Old man? Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s rude to call people by names like that? Well, it’s your birthday so you can be a little cheeky. Here.” Touma said and held out a bag of treats to Machi. She didn’t take the candy and looked to her mother instead.

“You can take it, Machi.” After her mother nodded to her, Machi accepted the bag and thanked him politely. Mahiru picked her up into her arms and carried her closer to Touma. “This man is your… His name is Touma. You met him when you were very young so you don’t remember him but you can trust him. Can you tell Papa that your uncles are here, Machi?”

“Okay!” The moment she placed her on the ground, Machi took Tsurugi’s hand and dragged her uncle to the party. “Machi will show you the giant cake!”

Mahiru stayed in the doorway so she could speak with Touma. She learned that he was her father when she was a teenager but it was still difficult to see him as a parent. They would only speak with each other a couple times during family events. Sometimes, she would question why her mother would be with a man like Touma. Was she born from love or simply a mistake to her parents?

“The Shirota family has strong genes, don’t they? Machi looks exactly like you and you’re a mirror image of your mother.” Touma commented. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette but he stopped himself when he heard Machi’s laughter in the distance. “There’s not a single resemblance of me in you. No one will think that I’m your father at a glance. I’m surprised that you invited me to your daughter’s birthday party.”

“I’m surprised that you came.” Mahiru retorted. He took out a wrapped box and she saw that Machi’s name was written on the tag. She had assumed that the bag of treats was his birthday gift and she wondered what he bought her since the box was rather light. Did Tsurugi tell him what to buy for Machi’s birthday?

“They’re shoes.” Touma told her. “I don’t know what a kid would want. When Tsurugi was young, I bought him a pair of shoes and he liked them. I thought I should get Machi the same thing. If they don’t fit her, the gift receipt is inside and you can exchange the shoes.”

“Shoes are simple and practical. Machi will like them. Thank you for coming. Machi said she wanted her grandfather to come.” Mahiru carried the present into the living room and placed it on the table with the other gifts. The table was overflowing with colourful boxes and the sight made her happy. She was glad that her daughter was so loved. As a mother, the only thing she wanted was for her daughter to be surrounded with happiness.

She recalled her own birthday when she was four years old. Her mother had died only a few months before that. While her uncle took time off to celebrate her birthday, a young Mahiru couldn’t help but feel lonely. She didn’t want her daughter to ever feel the same way. She invited as many people as she could to Machi’s birthday party.

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder and she was pulled out of her thoughts. Kuro stood beside her and there was a hint of worry in his red eyes. He was able to read her expression and he knew that there was something on her mind. Without a word, he kissed her temple. They were able to understand each other without speaking.

“Next month is your birthday. I was talking with your uncle and he said that he’s already planning to take time off for your birthday party. Hyde and Licht said the same.” He told her and tenderly rubbed her arms. “I know you would want to be with everyone on your birthday. Can I take you on a private birthday dinner the day before your big party though?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” She nodded to him and a smile spread over her lips. Mahiru couldn’t begin to tell Kuro how much he had changed her life the day they met. He had filled her days with so much happiness and she gained more friends through their adventures. Now, they had their own family.

“Mama! Papa! Look at this trick that Auntie Mikuni taught me just now. I can make thunder!” Machi called their names as she ran to them. She held a balloon over her head and vigorously rubbed it against her hair. After a few minutes, she walked to JeJe standing nearby and touched his hand. He wasn’t facing her so he didn’t expect to feel static electricity shock his hand. He winced and pulled his hand away from her. She only smiled up at him innocently. “Thunder attack.”

Machi waved the balloon in front of her and explained. “Auntie Mikuni told me that the attack is more effective if the person doesn’t expect it. I should aim for Uncle JeJe since he’s easy to pick on.”

“You shouldn’t listen to everything your Auntie tells you, Machi. She likes to play pranks on people sometimes.” Mahiru smiled warily. She knelt in front of her daughter and smoothed her hand over her hair. The balloon had made her hair frizzy and disorganized. Once her hair was fixed, Mahiru kissed her forehead. “That was a cool attack though. Only use it on villains.”

“Okay.” She nodded. Then, she ran back to the party to show others her trick. Mahiru sat on the couch and watched her play with her cousins. “Lucy, let’s fight demons together with this new lightning attack. Auntie Mikuni taught me this attack and I will share it with everyone.”

“Can you blow me a green balloon?” Yuu asked and handed it to Tetsu. “Father’s strong lungs will make a balloon large enough to carry all of us into the sky.”

“Kids have wild imaginations, don’t they?” Toru laughed and sat next to Mahiru. Whenever he looked at Machi, he couldn’t help but remember when Mahiru was her age. He did his best to raise her with his busy job and he came to love her like his own daughter. “You liked to play ‘Superheroes’ too. I don’t know how I was able to keep up with you.”

“You’re talking as if you’re an old man, Uncle.” Kuro sat on Mahiru’s right and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Weren’t you the one who said that you’re a thunder god and you would watch over our family forever?”

“Uncle Toru is a thunder god?” Machi overheard their conversation and stared at her great uncle with awe. “When you attack the villain, you must go like this: Rawr-jin!”

The childish way she mispronounced ‘Raijin’ brought a tear to Toru’s eye. He hugged Mahiru and Machi close. “Mahiru, you’ve raised a wonderful daughter who knows the power of a great pun.”

“Thank you, Uncle Youtarou! This is fluffy just like a cat.” Machi thanked Youtarou as he wrapped the warm scarf around her neck. She played with the fluffy balls that were sewed onto the ends of the scarf. A box was placed next to her and it stood taller than her. “Is this really for me?”

“I have the best gift of the night.” Misono wore a proud grin after she saw Machi’s reaction to the gift. “The subclasses loved this toy when I gave it to them. You’ll have a lot of fun with it too.”

“It’s so tall that I can’t reach the bow on the top.” Machi stretched onto her toes but her fingers barely brushed against the top of the box. She was suddenly lifted into the air but she wasn’t scared. She immediately knew that her father had picked her up. “Thank you, Papa!”

“You should say thank you to Tetsu and Misono since they’re the one who gave you this present.” He told her but she was distracted with the wrapping paper. Kuro held her over the bow so she could tear off the wrapping. He could only imagine what the gift would be. While he was grateful that their friends were generous with gifts for Machi, he didn’t know where they would put the present.

“A cat sized house!” Machi gasped when she saw the glossy image printed onto the box. “It can fit me too. Can we open it and play house right away?”

“Okay.” Mahiru said even as Machi struggled to open the box and take out the playhouse. She helped her pull out the large pieces from the box. “It’ll take us some time to set this up for you. How about you choose everyone’s role while we do that?”

“I wanna be the daughter!” Machi decided quickly. She started to list roles for everyone in her game. She hugged Mahiru’s leg and grinned up at her. “Mama will be the mom. Papa is the dad. Uncle Tsurugi and Uncle Youtarou are my uncles in the game.”

Gear tapped Kuro’s shoulder and then whispered to him. “You have a simpleminded kid, don’t you?”

“Uncle Gear, you will be the family pet!” Machi declared and her innocent smile never faltered. Kuro didn’t try to hold back his laugh. She appeared confused by her father’s reaction so Gear knew that she didn’t hold any malice in her choice. Machi reasoned that they exchanged a joke that she didn’t hear and she laughed along with them.

Mahiru was exhausted by the end of the day. She was grateful that Licht and Hyde stayed to help clean the party before they returned to their hotel. The house was now quiet and she walked down the hall to the bedroom she shared with Kuro. The bathroom door was opened and she could see Kuro help Machi brush her teeth. “You ate a lot of sweets today so make sure to bush extra well, Machi.”

“Okay, all done, Papa.” She said after she spit out another mouthful of water. Machi didn’t climb off the step stool she used to reach the sink and held out her arms to him instead. Kuro knew that she was likely tired after the party and she wanted him to carry her. As he picked her up, he saw Mahiru’s smiling reflection in the mirror.

“I said I would put Machi to bed so you could go to sleep first. You stayed up late to work on the cake last night.” The birthday party was important to both of them and she spent the past week planning it. He walked to the doorway and kissed Mahiru softly. “You still push yourself too much. When you traded our vows, we promised to lean on each other.”

“I’m certain that promise was first made when I became your Eve.” They had kept that vow to each other since that day they met. She was tempted to ask him to carry her to bed but he was already holding Machi. Their daughter was already sleeping soundly against his shoulder and Mahiru hoped that she had fun at the party. “She called Touma an Old Man this morning.”

“Apparently, Gear is a pet to her because of his wolf form.” They both laughed softly. She opened the door to Machi’s room and they quietly placed her on the bed. Mahiru was careful to not wake her as she kissed her brown hair and pulled the blanket to her shoulder. As she stood, she noticed Kuro staring at her. “Machi speaks her mind the way you do.”

Kuro wrapped his arms around her and Mahiru thought he simply wanted to hug her. Instead, he lifted her off the bed and held her against his chest. He brought her out of the room to return to their own bed. He leaned his forehead against hers and said, “Your birthday is next month. Is there anything you want? I know you’re going to say that you already have everything you need but you can be selfish on your birthday.”

“Well, it has been a long time since I’ve seen you in a fancy suit.” Mahiru said and traced her finger over the collar of his shirt. “Formal clothes are ‘troublesome’ but you look great in them.”

#servamp #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction #fem mahiru

31 notes · View notes

devnicolee · 4 years

Text

The Sweetest Thing (1)

A/N: This exists because I know how to start new stories but not finish my current ones LOL Hope y’all enjoy! :)

M’Baku x OC

Word Count: 3,891

Warnings: None - just some good old, happy M’Baku fluff

The light chime of the front door tore Amara out of her deep meditation as she kneaded the soft dough on her counter to prepare a new batch of pastries. Her kitchen was her personal sanctuary and peace so her head always floated to the clouds once she got in the zone. She sighed in frustration, resigned to the fact that she would never actually finish any of her special orders while the shop was open.

"Be there in a sec," she called brightly, wiping her flour covered hands quickly on a towel nearby. The kitchen area of her quaint bakery did not allow for a clear view of the entrance or counter so she was unable to see which of her regulars stopped by, she knew basically everyone in Gorilla City.

Amara was exhausted, her family bakery was a two person shop. Just her and Eshe, her cousin and best friend who helped run the counter and manage orders. Unfortunately, Eshe came down with a bug over the weekend, leaving Amara to handle the baking and management alone.

Despite her shop being small, it was one of the most popular bakeries in Jabariland, the most popular in Gorilla City. Amara inherited it from her mother, who created every recipe and taught Amara each one. Amara took pride in every pastry, cake, or piece of bread she created. Her mother taught her the importance of pouring passion and love into every dessert she made, which quickly made her shop a tribe staple.

She emerged from the back, staring down at her hands as she tried to wipe more of the flour off, saying, "I am so sorry for the wait. What can I do for you t-today?" her voice trailing off in surprise as she came face to face with the Wakandan Royal Family… or at least, a portion of them. Her eyes widened as her eyes went from Princess Shuri to King T'Challa to Prince Erik? No, Killmonger. No? N’Jadaka? Um, well, Amara didn't quite know what the usurper-turned-forgiven-royal's title was these days.

Annnnnd this is why we never associated with lowlanders before, she thought to herself.

And they were accompanied by Chief M'Baku and his little sister. "O-oh Hanuman," she whispered under her breath. "Um, King T'Challa, Princess Shuri, Prince Erik... Lord M'Baku, Lady Malaika," she said politely, greeting the row of Royals standing patiently on the other side of her long pastry display case. She offered them a tentative Wakandan salute, as was proper when addressing the Royal Family. Amara was usually far more confident than this but she had not expected for damn near every royal in Wakanda to stumble into her shop the one week she was drowning.

It did not help that she knew she did not look appropriate enough to be in front of any of them. Her old tattered and stained black apron, the flour dusting her black clothes and caked on her face. She hadn’t bothered to do much with her long curly hair that morning, pulling it into a mess top puff that took five seconds. She had only gotten a couple glimpses of herself since starting to bake early that morning, trying to keep up with the increase of orders in preparation for the holiday on Friday. But even in passing glances, she knew she did not look well enough for a visit from the Royal Family or the Chief.

"These look amazing," Shuri moaned, her eyes examining all the beautiful pastries and cakes just behind the glass. "Can I have one of everything?"

"Absolutely not. Mama would murder me in my sleep. Pick a couple of things, Shuri and one thing to bring to her."

"Fine, you bore. He hates me," she whispered in Amara's direction though she was still loud enough for her brother to hear. Her lips curled into a smile but she stifled the rising laughter, unsure if she should actually laugh at the King's expense. "What is your most popular thing?" she asked, directing her attention back to Amara who was still stuck and shocked to find them all in her small bakery. Amara blinked a few times, taking a moment to officially catch her stride after being thrown off course.

"Um, the mandazis are delicious, those usually sell pretty quickly," she started to list, sliding back into her usual confident self as she pointed at a display of golden brown puff pastries coated in powdered sugar. "The cookies are really popular,” she pointed at a dish of gorilla-shaped cookies. “The lime cake is pretty popular and of course, the universal staples are tribe favorites," her nails tapped the intricate glass cake stand that held a tall 4 layer chocolate cake.

This interaction went on for a few more minutes as Shuri asked about every pastry available.

"My apologies Lord M'Baku and Miss?" T'Challa examined her expectantly with a soft smile.

"O-oh Amara, your highness. Just Amara.” She straightened up instinctively, a more serious look on her face as she addressed the King. She had never actually seen him in person before. She, of course, heard about the incident that brought his almost-dead body to Jabariland months prior but she was far removed from the issues of royalty. Having only stories and gossip to inform her about him, she noted that one thing was clearly true: he was quite handsome.

"Yes. Amara. My apologies. Lord M'Baku was gracious enough to take us on a tour of the shops and markets and my sister here... has a persistent sweet tooth. She can sniff out a bakery from miles away," T'Challa explained as he watched Shuri patiently. His words signaled slight annoyance at his sister's antics but none of that showed in his face, just the love of an older sibling.

"She greedy... that's the problem," Erik mumbled, loud enough for all to hear. His American accent was jarring to Amara, who had never heard one outside of movies and television shows. His snide remarks earned him some eye rolls from the rest of the group. Amara was surprised at his sense of humor, expecting the man who tried to murder the king to be more uptight. He was relaxed, perched in one of the chairs at a high table, casually scrolling on what looked like a small tablet.

"It is no trouble at all. We are all happy to have you all in Jabariland," Amara responded politely as she boxed up Shuri's choices and placed them in a bag.

"What is your role in the tribe? Your family?" the King asked, as he looked around the bakery walls, which were covered in family photos.

"O-oh my father is a woodsmith, my king. He owns a shop a bit further into the market."

"Not just any woodsmith, the tribe's best,” Malaika interjected. “D'Kar makes and carves most of our knobkerries. He carved brother's and mine. Brother, we should take them by there to meet him,” Malaika grinned at Amara’s surprised expression, “I am in training with your younger sister, Neema. She is quite nice, I fought her today. She is very good, I enjoy spending time with her at the training center."

"Ah of course, Yes. She speaks highly of you as well," Amara responded with a smile. Malaika and Neema were quite a lot alike. She could see a world in which they would be best friends, if her sister was not such an introverted girl. Unlike her older sister, who was the social butterfly when she was in training and school, Neema struggled to make friends. It seemed to bother Amara more than Neema who quite enjoyed being alone.

"Brother, can I get one?" Malaika asked sweetly, looking up at the stoic giant who had yet to utter a word or crack a smile since walking in.

"One," he whispered in his deep baritone. She honestly forgot the chief was even in the room, as he stood quietly in the back. She offered him a smile as their eyes met, it was not returned. But that was not surprising. While M’Baku was a respected and good leader, he was not known for his kindness. She continued to feel his eyes on her as she turned to prepare his sister’s slice of cake. Despite being a Jabari, she only ever saw M'Baku from a distance or at official events. She was a few years younger than him so they missed each other in training and school.

Silence fell over the group as she started to box up her sister's cake. She almost felt exposed, like there were lasers on her as she worked. But she would soon realize why.

"Damn, nigga. Can you stare at her any harder?" Amara thanked Bast that her face was turned away from them so they could not see the way it twisted in embarrassment. She could hear Shuri and T’Challa’s quiet reprimands, though they were clearly trying to whisper. She pulled her face back into a smile and turned around, catching the tail end of a deathly glare between M’Baku and Erik. She busied herself by handing Malaika her box.

"How much?" M'Baku muttered. Amara couldn’t tell but it almost seemed like he was embarrassed, the way he now actively avoided looking at her directly.

"No need," she waved him away. "It is merely an honor to have you all here. Princess Shuri, if you are back in Jabariland, perhaps you will let me know what you thought?"

Shuri looked up, her mouth coated in sugar and pushed out, "I definitely will be back! These are better than any bakery in the city. Do you deliver?”

Amara's smile could have lit the mountains as she got high praise from a new customer. She was used to hearing nice things from her regulars in the tribe. She rarely got a new customer anymore since there were never new people, except children, in Jabariland. It just reaffirmed her craft and abilities to hear it from someone new.. "No, not yet, unfortunately. Sorry,” she offered, laughing lightly at the despondent expression on her face.

“Let us go, Shuri. We have taken up more than enough of M’Baku and Malaika’s time. Thank you again, Miss Amara,” King T’Challa’s arms raised in a salute, which she mimicked with ease.

“You all have a great rest of your tour." She smiled as they filed out of the door, M'Baku holding it open. However, he did not exit after Erik, instead he turned to face her again.

"You said your name was Amara?" he asked, his body stradling the threshold of the door.

"Yes, Chief M’Baku."

He nodded softly with a small smile on his lips, before saying, "Good to know."

Amara stared at the door as it slid shut, as confused as ever. What in Hanuman’s name just happened?

****

“Baba!” Amara yelled as she let herself into her father’s cottage. “Neema?” She slid off her snow-covered boots and jacket before heading directly to the family kitchen. Despite her mother being gone for over five years, her father had not changed one thing. The house looked exactly the same, a time capsule from when her mother was living and taking care of everything. She was surprised at her father’s ability to keep the place this pristine, especially with his long work hours. But she knew he did it partially to honor her mother, who was strict about keeping things a certain way. She placed the fresh loaves of bread on the counter and meandered back to her father’s workshop. She inhaled the savory smells of fresh vegetable soup on the stove, made by her sister, she knew. Her father could maintain a house but he was a lousy cook.

Despite being home from work, it was not a shocker to find D’Kar still in his home workshop carving after hours. He would carve nonstop if his aging hands allowed it. This older age did limit how long he could carve but it did not diminish the quality. Only he and few other men in the tribe had his level of skill with Jabari wood, skill that took many years to practice.

“Baba,” she called softly, a smile on her face as she leaned against the door frame and watched him work.

“My girl!” He finished the last Jabari symbol on a walking staff before standing to wrap his eldest daughter in a tight hug. “How was your day?” He studied her closely, noting the exhaustion on her face. D’Kar was proud of his daughter but he felt she worked too much, worked too hard for someone her age.

“Busy, Eshe is out sick so I am pulling double duty for the next couple days,” she waved away his concerns before sitting on a stool across from him so he could continue working.

“Ah, I am sure the day was made all the more busy with a visit from the Chief and the Royal Family.”

“They came by your shop too?” she asked.

“Yep! The young one, Shuri? She mentioned that they had stopped at your bakery. Couldn’t stop talking about it. Asked me to convince you to pack up and open up shop in the Golden City.”

Amara laughed, “And leave Jabariland? Leave you?” she asked, sitting down on one of the stools across from him. “I could never, baba.”

D’Kar halted his carving for a moment, looking up from the walking staff to his daughter. “The Golden City wouldn’t be so bad. Now with the tribes reunited, maybe a change of scenery would be good for you, eh?”

“Good for me?” Amara’s nose wrinkled up in confusion. “Where is this coming from? You hate the lowlanders?”

“Yes, I do. But that does not mean you have to. You are young, Amara. Shouldn’t waste your years taking care of your sister and I. You should be living your life, having fun. It is what I want for you, what Neema wants for you… what she would want for you too.”

Amara turned her head away from her father, the back of her eyes stinging lightly at the mention of her mother. Her death… her absence was still a sore subject in this house. “I-I’m gonna check on Neema, yes? Things will calm down next week and I-I can cook a few nights a week again so Neema isn’t doing everything. I’ll swing back by before I leave. I put some fresh loaves on the counter by the way.” She slid off the high stool and exited her father’s workshop quickly, barely looking at him as she went. She shook her head, as if that would rid it of all the negative thoughts swirling around, and headed upstairs to her sister’s bed room.

Her sister’s long braids covered her face as she jotted down something in a small notebook. Amara watched Neema write with intensity. For her, writing was like baking, it took her to another world.

Amara flopped down on her sister’s bed, earning her attention and an annoyed look. “How is the world’s greatest future author doing?” She inquired as she stretched out across the bed.

“She is tired and trying to finish this with no distractions,” Neema responded, tapping her pen against her sister’s forehead gently. Amara’s eyes scrunched up as she laughed.

“Fine, fine.” She pushed herself to a seated position and moved to the edge of the bed. “It is late anyway so I am not staying long. Just told baba I would check in on you. How was training?”

“Painful as usual… fought against Lady Malaika today. She is good, left a few bruises. But we both won once so we got high marks.” She lifted her light sweatshirt to show a darkening bruise along her side. Amara whistled, she certainly did not miss her training days.

“That is going to be worse tomorrow. You need to put ice on it. Also, why don’t you hang out with Lady Malaika? She seems nice, spoke very highly of you.” She poked her clearly annoyed sister in her unbruised side as she spoke.

“When did you talk to her?” she questioned, her voice filled with speculation and a hint of anxiety, that also showed through her fidgeting with the corner of her notebook paper.

“She came into the shop with the Royals and her brother. She said you were nice and she liked training with you. She is a sweetheart…. You should hang out with her, she seems like she could be a new friend if you just put yourself out there.” Amara stood up and started to walk toward the door.

“We all can’t be you, Amara.”

“No, you can be better.” She winked before turning to head out the door and back to her own home for the night. “Ice your side and start a damn fire in here, I mean for Hanuman’s sake.. It is freezing in here and getting sick will not get you out of training.” Amara ducked as a pillow came wheezing toward her head. “Night Neema.” The two childishly stuck their tongues out at each other before she bounded down the stairs to say goodnight to her baba and head home.

*****

High up on Gorilla Mountain, another Jabari was fulfilling his big brother duties, training with his sister before bed.

“Harder Malaika! What is up with you today?” M’Baku demanded, straightening his strong and long legs out of his battle stance to address his sister, who looked like she was moments away from the Ancestral Cliffs.

“Sorry, brother. You know that woman at the bakery? I fought her sister today. She fought almost as hard as you do. I actually lost a battle to her,” she said, tone as if she still couldn’t believe it even hours later. “She is really nice, off the training mats, at least. Can we just call it a night? I am tired.” She quickly turned on her puppy dog eyes, the one thing she knew her overprotective brother simply could not say no to.

He rolled his eyes, “You know you cannot stop fighting in battle simply because something hurts eh? You fight until there is nothing left in you.”

“Is there a war coming tomorrow that I don’t know about??” she asked sarcastically, looking from left to right as if an entire army was going to swarm the Lodge’s training center. “I think I will be ok if I cut one training session short, Lord Tyrant.”

M’Baku rolled his eyes at her, deciding to just let it go and let her get some rest. Despite having guards whose sole purpose was to escort his rambunctious sister around Jabariland, he always walked her back from their nightly training sessions. It was their only time to bond with no distractions.

“That baker from today? You liked her?” Malaika asked quietly as they walked, their guards, or shadows as she called them, quietly trailing behind them.

M’Baku’s barking laugh filled the quiet dark halls of the Lodge, “Like her? I hardly spoke to her. I don’t even remember her name.”

A mischievous smile crossed his sister’s face. Oh this is going to be fun. “Well, that is true. She was quite nice though. And Anika is a beautiful name.”

“It was Amara,” he corrected her immediately, already forgetting the lie he told 5 seconds prior. Maliaka immediately burst into laughter. M’Baku could also hear a few snickers behind him as their guards overheard their conversation. One pointed glare and those laughs ended abruptly.

“You are such a bad liar. You like her, just admit it. You thought she was pretty.”

“Eh and what of it?”

“For a chief, you are pretty stupid sometimes, you know that right? Maybe they should make me chief? I am clearly the brains behind this operation. Ask her out. Court her. She is gorgeous, accomplished, her family is well-respected in the city. She is perfect for you.”

M’Baku shook his head. His sister raised some good points, as she always did, even if they were marred with insults. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since they left that bakery. He had plans to go back there tomorrow just to see her again, but he would never tell Malaika that. “I do not have time to date. I only have room for one lady in my life these days.” His elbow nudged her gently as they rounded the corner and stopped in front of her room.

Malaika rolled her eyes as she opened the door to her private chambers. She leaned against the frame as she looked at her brother, the man who gave up most of his young adult years to be chief and take care of her. Her joking tone melted away as the feelings of guilt seeped in. She tried to shake it off, the guilt of being a burden that she felt… well always. “Well, this lady thinks you have more than enough time for a girlfriend. The Council is trying to push any woman with a pulse into your arms. Might as well try with someone you actually like. I am just saying,” she threw her hands up in surrender, “There is more than enough room for two ladies in this palace. Goodnight, brother.” The two hugged before she retreated into her room and raced over to her side table.

She pulled out a couple pieces of paper and jotted down two quick letters. Malaika read over them quickly before nodding in satisfaction.

“Jahari!” she called, her shadow immediately poking his head into her room.

“My lady?”

“I need a big favor,” she said sweetly, turning on her youthful charm to get the guard to break a few protocol rules for her. “Can you deliver these to the night guards and see to it that they were delivered by the morning?”

Jahari sighed, “My lady, you know I am not allowed to leave your door until morning. This cannot wait?”

“The future of Jabariland… the life of your chief is at stake. Surely that outweighs any silly rules my overprotective brother gave right?” At Jahari’s raised eyebrow, she tried a new tactic. “Look, if anyone sees you gone and gives you a hard time, I will just tell them I felt ill and you went to fetch me medicine. How about that? Please, please please please pleaseeeeee?” she begged.

“Fine, fine. But if I lose my head, I will be forced to haunt you,” he warned. “Can I ask you why these are so important?”

“One is for Femi, the Lodge event planner and the second is for my dressmaker. Just need some last minute things before the Winter Festival Ball on Saturday.”

Jahari snorted, “Yea right. Whatever mischief you are planning, I want to be as far away from it as possible.”

Malaika laughed, “Oh I think everyone around here will enjoy this bout of mischief. Trust me.”

“Lock the door behind me and do not open it for anyone. I will knock three times to let you know when I return. Deal?” Jahari was not a rule breaker but Maliaka reminded him so much of his own sister so he gave her as much leeway as he could.

“Thank you!” she followed him to the door, immediately locking it behind him. She slumped against it, a content smile on her face. Let the fun begin.

****

Tags: @muse-of-mbaku @jellybean531 @destinio1 @skysynclair19 @ashanti-notthesinger @gloriousgam3r @archivistofwakanda @leahnicole1219 @mygirlrenee @dramaqueeenamby @dawva

#black panther #black panther fanfiction #m'baku imagine #m'baku #m'back x oc #m'baku x reader

48 notes · View notes

renaroo · 4 years

Note

Cass Cain vs the Bat Family for the last slice of Alfred's pie. "Is that a challenge?"

A/N: This became a more Batfam entirety kind of story and then a commentary on the madness of quarantine in my own family using Uno as a proxy. Regardless it was a lot of fun to do.

Four Walls and Attitude

Oracle places her hand against the map behind her. What was once a black and white scaled model of Gotham is now glowing a radioactive green with shades of green depending on the island, the neighborhood, and even the street.

Everyone, including Batman, stares in awe of the projection.

“In other words,” Oracle says, looking sharply over her glasses, “there is absolutely no way we can operate like normal without causing things getting worse.”

Silence spreads quickly throughout the cave. Most of them don’t even know what to make of the information.

Finally, giving voice to the general shock, Nightwing finally says, “Wow. Corona killed Batman.”

“It did not, the rest of you are staying in the manor,” Batman concludes, leading to an eruption of disagreement.

“Did you not pay attention to what I just said?” Oracle demands. “It goes for you, too, Bruce. No one in this cave can leave without it causing a major public health challenge. We patrol too many areas, cross-contaminate with each other too often, and, worst of all, we have immunocompromised family members of our own to worry about.”

It was an intentionally vague statement, but it doesn’t stop the meaningful glances toward Alfred and Red Robin.

Red Robin crosses his arms angrily. “I resent that statement.”

“Maybe keep better track of your spleen,” Red Hood snorts.

Black Bat is uncertain, shifting on her heels. “What do we do?”

“Social distance and adapt,” Oracle answers easily, straightening her glasses. “It’s possible to fight crime without punching people, you realize. That’s my entire M.O.”

The other vigilantes look at each other warily.

***

The size of the manor was enough reason on its own for them to make it their main base of quarantine. There are obviously more than enough supplies, more rooms than any of them could use independently, and access to equipment and the cave should emergencies arise.

Not to mention, the vast majority of them live there already.

Stephanie calls her mom, Barbara messages the Birds of Prey, and they all find solo activities for the first day, only really intersecting at the library, the kitchen, and the entertainment room during chance encounters.

That seemed to be a good call. And when there is a need for some social interaction, it’s almost always in their usual social groups however they naturally lie.

No one sees Bruce but that seems pretty par for the course.

It isn’t until the third day that things get slightly more challenging.

Stephanie, Duke, and Cassandra enter the mini-theater room with a giant tub of popcorn. The lights are off, but the projector is running and the main couch is occupied by Dick and Damian.

“Oh, didn’t realize you guys were in here,” Duke says sheepishly.

“SHH!” Damian hisses at them.

Dick arches back enough to look at the trio over his shoulder. “No problem, we’re watching Planet Earth. Want to join?”

Stephanie and Duke look at each other with mirrored grimaces.

Cassandra squints at the screen. “No,” she answers for them. “How long?”

“We’re marathoning,” Dick shrugs. “Started about an hour ago—“

“SHH!” Damian snarls at them again.

“We were hoping to watch a movie,” Steph says. Her gaze falls more on Damian than Dick, since he is no doubt the one to appeal to. “The Breakfast Club, it’s a classic. You’d like it.”

Duke looks at them all skeptically. “He would? Really?”

“Cass, you know there’s a different television set,” Dick says, pointing to the floor below.

“Tim’s playing,” Cass says in response, her hands holding up an invisible controller as she mimes Tim’s thumb movements.

“There’s a million places you can set up a laptop,” Dick continues to plea.

That earns a crossed look from Stephanie. “So? What do we need to do? Start putting signup sheets in all the rooms? Just share the projector with us after Planet Earth switches episodes.”

“No,” Dick and Damian say in unison.

The trio leaves the room angrily and, within the hour, clipboards with signup sheets begin being mysteriously adhered to all of the main rooms.

***

Jason has made it a point, nearly every day, to remind everyone that he will be the easiest adjusted to quarantine because he is the only true introvert.

The number of times the words introvert and isolated have left his mouth climb so high that, in secret, everyone is beginning to doubt the truth to them. If he is an introvert to the exponential extremes that he professes, surely he would not need to keep finding where everyone else is hiding to let them know it.

He has an alternating list of Zoom calls he is on each day. Hangouts he makes himself, making a point to inform the others quarantined to the manor than they are not invited to it.

The list of who is invited to it seems to grow by the day.

Kyle Rayner, Donna Troy, Ryan Choi. Then Roy Harper, Koriand'r, and Jade Nguyen. Then Artemis, Bizarro, and Miguel Barragan. Out of nowhere Duela Dent, Rose Wilson, and Suzie Su.

It’s halfway into the second week and Jason has the audacity to come into Tim’s room, pull off his headphones, and ask him if he’s bored.

“You know what I think,” Tim says, more than a little irritated. “I think you’re actually not an introvert. I think you’re not an introvert and you’re taking out your need for social contact out on the rest of us.”

Jason considers his comment, then breaks the expensive Beats in half before walking out the door.

***

Alfred begins making many desserts.

It starts with requests. Of course he will make whatever meal or whatever treat is asked of him, because it is nice to have all his loved ones safe, secure, and in the same location for once. Many of the desserts aren’t even difficult.

Then, somehow, they morph into bribes.

Despite the fact that Alfred has remained tight-lipped about his exact age for all these years, the quote-unquote children insist that he is too old to venture out of quarantine. Thus he must stay in the manor and rely on them to stock the pantry.

This doesn’t seem altogether terrible until it becomes obvious to Alfred that whoever he sends out will only get the foodstuffs they desire and not any of the important staples Alfred puts on the list.

Thus, the trades begin.

He can’t make his famous flan without evaporated milk. He positively will not make ginger layer cake without wine poached pears. And how can they snack on peach and pistachio tarts without honey?

Before Alfred has realized it, he has created monsters. Sugar craved, bored little monsters.

He puts a limit on the sweets he will cook in hopes of focusing instead on cooking favorite meals, but it’s too late.

Even Bruce is checking in on the kitchen at odd hours, looking curiously under the cake plate.

And cutting back the number of sweets Alfred is producing through the week also leads to another unforeseen circumstance.

They begin competing for what sweets are left.

***

Bruce looks in disbelief at the screen. Then he looks at the others. Then back to the screen.

“I distinctly remember us being on episode four,” Bruce says in a voice that edges on Batman.

“Last night, yeah,” Duke agrees, helping Alfred with everyone’s drinks.

No one else seems to find fault with the statement and are waiting for Bruce to continue. They pick at their independent devices lazily, only half attentive to any one thing.

It’s very dissatisfying considering the huge inconsistency that Bruce is detecting on their streaming service.

“Why is it saying that we’ve watched all the episodes already?” Bruce demands, voice sounding more hurt than he meant to let on.

Dick and Barbara simultaneously look up from their phones, toward each other, then back down. The others don’t even bother breaking their concentrations.

“You finished the entire series without me?” Bruce presses.

“Father,” Damian finally speaks up, sounding exasperated, “it is impossible to properly view things with you.”

Bruce squints at his youngest. “What does that mean?”

“It’s not just you, Bruce,” Stephanie says quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I can’t watch shows with my mom either.”

“Boomers just don’t know how to binge-watch,” Tim cuts with the final blow, not even looking up from his laptop.

Leaving the room in spite of protests, Bruce decides he is never going to watch the end of the show out of spite.

***

Cassandra has apparently made it a habit to not let others see her walk through doorways. As a result, she seemingly appears in rooms more than she enters them. Or, at the very least, she acts as though she just always has been and it is the other party who is intruding on her space.

As a result, it’s not altogether shocking when Duke looks up from his newly prepared plate and is met by his sister.

She is staring at his plate more than him.

“Oh, hey, Sis,” he offers her all the same. Then, instinctively, he shifts his shoulders to somewhat create a barrier between his plate and her. “What’s up?”

“Apple pie,” Cass announces as if it answers everything.

“Mmhmm,” Duke replies cautiously.

“Last piece?” she asks, her eyes gleaming.

“I’m sure Alfred will make another,” Duke says, then, slowly adding, “eventually.”

“Mine,” she snaps.

“No, you don’t even eat yours with vanilla ice cream!” Duke argues back, almost turning his back on her completely. “Just eat some of the cookies.”

“No!” Cass says, quickly shifting to be more aligned with the treat. “You eat them.”

“Cass, I got here first!” Duke snaps back, hooking afoot around the leg of the nearest chair. “Fair and square.”

“It was my pie,” Cass hisses. “I’ll take it back!”

“Is that a challenge?” Duke asks.

He sees her lunging and immediately kicks out the leg of the chair as he flips over it.

Cassandra is quick as ever and easily somersaults off of the falling chair to land over Duke’s shoulders. Her force is enough to send Duke’s body tumbling forward, but his body has proper instincts. He holds up the plate of pie above all else while using his free hand to find new ground, twirl his body out, and roll his head forward. Cass tumbles off his shoulders.

She hits the counters, but not before kicking off her shoe and sending it flying for Duke’s face.

He twists enough to lighten some of the impact, but the well-aimed shoe sends Duke into a tailspin.

The pie hits the floor with a sickening thud.

The siblings look crestfallen toward the prize, then each other.

Then they get angry.

By the time Barbara and Alfred burst onto the scene to break things up, the fight has utterly devolved and grown to the size of five Wayne heirs, three of which had no idea what the initial fight was even over.

Jason filmed it and sent it to everyone in his extended Zoom call list.

***

They are at each other’s throats. It turns out the Manor doesn’t have enough rooms.

Even Alfred’s treats are not enough to soothe the tensions anymore. Any little thing can set them off. So they spend the rest of the week finding solitary activities, barely communicating with words anymore.

Finally, some wounds begin to heal when Stephanie speaks to a room of others on their Switches.

“Hey, does anybody have an island with cherries?”

They play in harmony again, comparing villagers in hushed tones and sharing patterns for clothes.

Momentarily, there is hope that the peace will last forever, to the rhythm of island music and Blathers’ gibberish words.

It gives them twenty-seven hours of peace and nothing more.

***

“This absolutely will not work,” Barbara sputters as she pulls up to the table.

The others look at her with mild surprise, but they’re already seated. Jason is shuffling in preparation to deal. The arrangement from his left on is Stephanie, Cassandra, Barbara herself, Dick, Duke, Tim, and then Damian.

Damian is flanked by Jason and Tim. And only Barbara sees what the problem with this is.

“I am looking at a public safety hazard,” Barbara presses. “Dick, seriously, you’re going to let them do this?”

He thinks about it. “It’s a learning experience,” he determines.

“You dealing in or nah, Red?” Jason pushes.

She glares at them all, certain this is purposeful on at least some of their behalves, but she crosses her arms. “Okay, fine,” she says.

Jason deals out seven to everyone. Once he puts the deck in the middle, he turns over the first Uno card — green three — and with his free hand reaches in his jacket pocket for cigarettes. The others are already playing while Jason looks slightly miffed if not panicked when he can’t find the pack.

Under the table, Barbara can feel the shuffle of a pack of cigarettes being passed between other members of the table.

Shockingly enough, Jason doesn’t say anything verbally, but his eyes are already glaring at Damian as the pickpocket.

Stephanie puts down green nine.

Cassandra green Draw Two.

Barbara draws two.

Dick puts down a yellow Draw Two.

“No fair,” Duke chuckles.

Tim puts down a yellow Reverse.

Damian narrows his eyes. “You think you’re clever, don’t you, Drake?”

Duke yellow eight.

Yellow four.

Yellow two.

Blue two.

Blue three.

Blue Reverse.

Damian glares at Jason. “Is this planned?”

“How can they plan Uno, Dami?” Steph asks. Blue one.

Blue seven.

Barbara looks over her glasses at the table. She’s lost track of the cigarettes. “Don’t underestimate these people, Stephanie,” she warns as the ends up drawing five cards before finally laying down green seven.

Green nine.

Wild Card. “Let’s go with,” Duke looks through his hand cautiously, “Yellow again.”

There is a suspicious twitch to Tim’s lips as he puts down a Draw Four. “Let’s go back to red.”

Damian releases an explosion of expletives and leaps to stand on his chair.

“Ah, it was a mistake, my bad,” Dick says, rubbing a hand down his face.

***

Bruce is stone-faced at dinner, strangely fixated on his plate.

It’s not overly concerning, Bruce tends to be in quiet contemplation on most days regardless.

He finally looks up, though, and glares at them all.

“I finished it on my own,” he informs them.

They all stare back.

“Tiger King,” he clarifies. “They’re all guilty. But also. What the hell.”

Everyone collectively loses their minds again.

Alfred sighs and begins drafting a rotation for getting them all out of the manor more.

#Cassandra Cain #Alfred Pennyworth #Dick Grayson #Stephanie Brown #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Duke Thomas #Barbara Gordon #Damian Wayne #Bruce Wayne #bafic #writing #crim bat #ask and you shall receive

57 notes · View notes