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purrincess-chat · 3 years

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH26

Ahhh! If you’ve read the original, this chapter reads the same up until the end. Lila has a few more tricks up her sleeve this time ;) You can see Emerald Shell in all of his glory here!

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Chapter 26: Skyscraper

Ladybug raced up the hall, colliding with Chat Noir as she rounded the corner. They blinked at each other, rubbing the sore spots on their heads.

“There’s an akuma loose in the museum,” Chat Noir said.

“I know. Let’s find it before it can akumatize someone.” Ladybug nodded.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” Eliott waved from the end of the hall. “I think my friend Marinette is in trouble. She’s had a rough day, and I just saw an akuma floating toward the Greek and Roman hall.”

“Don’t worry about your friend. We’ll take care of it, just get to safety.” Ladybug ordered.

Civilians fled across the lobby, piling out of the entrance as cherubs darted from the ceiling.

“We’re too late,” Ladybug said, yanking Chat Noir to the ground as a headless figure with wings flew at them.

“Looks like Nike is taking a victory lap.” Chat Noir commented.

“Diana too.” Ladybug pointed to the young woman petting a deer. “The akuma must be bringing the art to life. We better hurry and capture it before Paris gets flooded with monsters.”

“And naked people.” Chat Noir shuddered at the thought.

They raced past men and women in period clothes, men and women hardly wearing any clothes. Most were seemingly harmless until they reached Gericault’s Charging Chasseur, and Ladybug stopped Chat Noir just short of his sword. Behind him were several archangels with spears flanked by other monsters.

“How many can you take?” Ladybug asked, brandishing her yoyo.

Chat Noir readied his staff with a wince. “Five, maybe ten.”

Strikes came from all directions, and any attempts to dodge into the air were thwarted by flying creatures and projectiles. They were outnumbered, and there was no sign of the akuma anywhere. Ladybug flipped back several paces until she found herself back-to-back with Chat Noir.

“Lucky Charm!” She caught a ceramic turtle as it materialized.

“Oh great, maybe we can find the akuma, and he can bring your new pet to life.” Chat Noir grunted.

“I think it wants me to go to Master Fu,” she said, palming the figurine. “Can you manage alone for a bit?”

“I can try to give them the runaround, but don’t take your time.” Chat Noir vaulted over the horde, landing on the other side of the hall. “Is that all you chumps got? I’m falling asleep.”

Ladybug slipped out as they took the bait, swinging to Master Fu’s as fast as her yoyo would carry her.

“Master, there’s an akuma at the Louvre that’s bringing all of the artwork to life, and the lucky charm told me to come here.” She explained in a rush.

“Very well.” Master Fu stood to retrieve the Miracle Box, but Ladybug held up a hand.

“Actually, Master, I was thinking we could use yours—if that’s okay!” She pressed her palms together.

Master Fu smiled, removing his bracelet. “Do you have someone you can trust?”

“I have someone in mind.” She nodded. She only hoped she could find him.

“Good luck.”

Back at the museum, Nino bravely tussled with an Egyptian mummy, and her heart sank. Griping the box in her hand a little tighter, she started up the hall in search of another boy. Of course, it was possible that he’d already evacuated, but if luck was on her side, she’d find him.

A high-pitched scream drew Ladybug around the corner. Macy cowered on the floor while Martin shielded her from an angel with his textbook.

“Run, Macy!”

“Not without you!” she cried.

“I’ll hold him off. Go find Marinette; I’m right behind you!” He ordered.

Macy eyed him hesitantly before scrambling from the exhibit.

Ladybug held up the box in her hand, flicking her gaze between it and the boy fighting with a textbook. Her friends came to look for her after she left. Even with a museum filled with monsters and gods, they weren’t abandoning her. Maybe the Miraculous wasn’t intended for who she originally thought.

With a flick of her wrist, she hooked her yoyo around Martin’s chest and pulled him out of the way of a lethal strike just in time.

“Ladybug!” he gasped. “Have you seen my friend Marinette? We’re worried that she might have been akumatized.”

“Your friend is safe, but I need your help,” she said.

“My help?” Martin’s eyebrows raised.

“Martin Michel, this is the Miraculous of the turtle which grants the power of protection. You will use it for the greater good and return it to me at the end of the mission.” She held out the box to him, and he stared with wide eyes.

“You’re giving me a Miraculous? But I’m not really built to be a hero.” He flexed his scrawny arms.

“It takes more than muscles to be a hero, and you’ve already proven your strength in here.” Ladybug tapped his chest. “You are the perfect fit.”

Martin took the box with a gulp, wincing against the flashing light as he opened it.

“Whoa!”

“Greetings! My name is Wayzz, and I am your kwami.” The small turtle held his arms out.

“So, do all Miraculouses come with a magical fairy creature?” Martin tilted his head to the side.

“The kwamis power the Miraculous. The turtle can create a shelter for a brief period of time, but once you activate your power, you only have a few minutes before you change back.” Ladybug explained.

“To transform, all you have to say is, ‘Wayzz, transform me!’”

“Okay.” Martin slipped on the bracelet. “Wayzz, transform me!”

When his transformation finished, Ladybug ushered him along.

“Come on. Chat Noir needs our help.”

Across the museum, Chat Noir raced down the hall pursued by several horses. He turned the corner into another room, but after shrieks from several women, he turned tail and ran the other way, covering his eyes and spouting apologies. When he lowered them, Ladybug and their new ally fell in line beside him.

“Been keeping them busy?” Ladybug asked.

“I thought angels were supposed to be good guys,” Chat Noir said.

“We need to find the akuma,” Ladybug said. They turned the next hall to find a woman sitting calmly on a bench.

“No way!” Chat Noir gasped.

“Mona Lisa?” Martin blinked.

“Have you seen the person who did this to you?” Ladybug asked. Mona Lisa smiled politely, pointing to the other end of the hall. “Thanks!”

“So, who is our new friend?” Chat Noir gestured to Martin as they ran.

“Uh,” he drawled. “You can call me Emerald Shell.”

“Welcome to the team,” Chat Noir said, offering him a hand to shake, but they skidded to a stop in the main lobby where Macy cowered beneath a sword-wielding warrior.

“Macy!” Emerald Shell gasped. He rushed in to block a hit with his shield.

Chat Noir’s stampede caught up to them, blocking all possible exits.

“You got a plan?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug summoned another lucky charm.

“Rubber cement?” She pursed her lips, surveying the scene. “Emerald Shell, get Macy out of here. Chat Noir, with me.”

Emerald Shell scooped Macy up and carried her to safety as Ladybug formulated a plan. Rubber cement. What was she supposed to do against an army of paintings with rubber cement? A camera bulb flashed and a pack of dogs raced by. A pale figure with a photo lens covering one eye, surveyed the chaos with a smirk.

“There! I’m betting the akuma is in the camera lens.” Ladybug pointed.

“You’re too late, Ladybug. I am Flash Photo, and soon I’ll have brought all of the artwork to life! You’re outnumbered.”

Ladybug flicked her gaze between the akuma, the rubber cement, Chat Noir, and Emerald Shell as he landed to her left.

“Cover me, and get ready to use your powers when I tell you.” She crouched down, slathering a tile with the glue as Chat Noir fenced two swordsmen. “Help me drive him back.”

“Got it!” Emerald Shell nodded.

He and Ladybug charged at Flash Photo, taking turns throwing kicks and punches. Emerald Shell deflected spears from other paintings with his shield until Ladybug got Flash Photo right where they wanted.

“No!” Flash Photo gasped, tugging his stuck feet in horror.

“Chat Noir!” Ladybug called. He vaulted over to join them, deflecting another spear. “Now, Emerald!”

“Shelter!”

A green barrier encased them, blocking the chaos outside and leaving Flash Photo stuck and alone. Chat Noir paced over with his Cataclysm, touching the camera lens lightly. It crumbled to dust, revealing the black butterfly inside. Ladybug captured the akuma, tossing her lucky charm to send all of the art back to their rightful homes. Emerald Shell lowered his shield, and the barrier faded.

Ladybug knelt beside the man, offering his camera with a smile. “There’s a lot of cool art here, but museum rules say no flash photography,” she said. “Besides, art is best appreciated through your own eyes, not through the lens of a camera.”

“Thanks, Ladybug…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a guilty wince before standing up and slumping off.

“Pound it!” The three heroes said in unison.

“See you later, Bug, new turtle friend.” Chat Noir waved before vaulting off.

Emerald Shell examined his suit with a smile. “I wish Marinette could see me. She’d be really proud.”

“Your identity must remain a secret, even from your friends.” Ladybug reminded him. “But I’m sure she’s proud of you anyway. Superpowers or not.”

He smiled at that, letting his transformation drop and removing the bracelet. “Thanks, Ladybug.”

“I’m sure you’ll find her. She’s probably around here somewhere,” Ladybug said. She tossed her yoyo and gave a small wave. “Bug out!”

♪♫♪ 1000 Doves ♪♫♪

Martin walked the halls, hands in his pockets. Marinette was still nowhere in sight, and he hadn’t run into Eliott or Lisette either. Ladybug’s magic restored everything, so they were probably still searching a different part of the museum. He was just relieved that Marinette wasn’t the victim this time, but it did beg the question that if she wasn’t the akuma, where was she?

“Martin!” His heart skipped as Macy trotted after him. She pulled him into a crushing hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay! I was worried that monster got you.”

“Can’t breathe,” he croaked, and Macy let go. “I’m fine. Ladybug saved me.”

“Ladybug and her new partner! He saved me by the entrance,” Macy said with a giddy grin. “He’s kind of cute. I hope she uses him again.”

Martin faltered, cheeks burning hot. Even if he told Macy the truth, she probably wouldn’t believe him. Still, if she thought Emerald Shell was cute, there was hope she’d think the same about him someday.

“Uh, let’s keep looking for Marinette,” he said.

“You’re right, sorry! Let’s go.” Macy linked her arm through his, and they continued on together.

Maybe someday she’d see him as more than a friend. He could hope anyway.

♪♫♪ I Did Something Bad ♪♫♪

“Marinette!”

Her friends slammed into her side, squishing her between their bodies.

“We were so worried!” Macy said.

“Yeah, when we saw there was an akuma, we thought that it was you.” Eliott nuzzled her hair.

“Well, it almost was me.” Marinette admitted, lowering her gaze. “Adrien talked me out of it.”

“Oh, Marinette.” Macy frowned. “You know you can always talk to us if you’re feeling stressed.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to face everything alone. We’re here to help you.” Martin offered her neatly repacked lunch bag.

“You’ve helped all of us in so many ways, Marinette. If you ever need us, we’re right here.” Lisette added.

“Thank you. I needed that reminder today.” Marinette rubbed her cheek as a tear slid down it, snuggling into their embrace.

“Oh! Speaking of Adrien!” Macy shot up. “His school is about to leave, but he said he would wait at the bottom of the stairs in the lobby for you.”

“Oh, uh.” Marinette winced guiltily, but they all nudged her on.

“Go, Cinderella, before the clock strikes midnight. We’ll meet you at the bus.” Eliott urged, wrapping his arm around Lisette.

Marinette smiled before jogging up the hall. Adrien might not have been the partner she needed to defeat the akuma, but he was the partner Marinette needed to overcome her own demons. Confessing her love while fighting off akumatization wasn’t how she pictured telling Adrien, but now that her feelings were out there, a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Adrien would always be by her side, and Lila would never come between them.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she caught sight of that signature silky, blond hair, a smile curling over her lips. She always thought that once they started dating, she’d get over how dreamy he was, but he really was more handsome than any of the Greek gods depicted in the museum. He turned to her as she skipped down the stairs, eyes softening in the way that made her heart melt.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, touching her lips to his. He lifted her up, spinning around in a circle with a laugh. Setting her down, he nuzzled her cheek with his nose.

“Well, aren’t you two sweet?”

They stopped cold in their tracks. A set of green eyes taunted them from the top of the stairs, sinister and calculating. Adrien pulled Marinette closer.

“Ya know, you two could have just gone along quietly, but you had to do things the hard way,” Lila said, descending the stairs slowly. “Your efforts to expose me have been cute, but I’m going to put an end to this little charade once-and-for-all.”

“Look, Adrien and I don’t care anymore, Lila. Just leave us alone, and we’ll leave you alone,” Marinette said.

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Marinette. You started this war, now I’m going to end it. No one will ever talk to you again when I’m through with you.” Lila paused on the last step. “I warned you not to mess with me, and now you get to pay the price.”

In one fluid motion, she twirled around on one foot and collapsed onto the floor. Her wails echoed through the lobby, every head turning toward them. Lila clutched her ankle as their classmates circled in.

“What happened?” Alya pushed to the front of the group.

“Marinette pushed me down the stairs!” Lila screeched, clutching her foot. “Ow!”

“What?” Marinette, Adrien, and Alya said in unison.

All eyes turned to Marinette mixed with confusion and anger. Marinette glared at Lila, grinding her teeth until they hurt. That stupid, evil wench! There was no way everyone believed her this time.

“That’s not what happened,” Adrien said. “Marinette never touched Lila.”

Alya turned to Marinette, crossing her arms over her chest. “Care to explain?”

“She’s lying. I was at the bottom of the stairs with Adrien. She fell down on purpose,” Marinette said.

“Oh really?” Alya asked.

“Yes!” Marinette shot back. “Why would I push her?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Alya shrugged.

She and Marinette glared through each other until Nino stepped in, holding up defensive hands.

“Let’s not get carried away. Lila is hurt. We should get her to the bus,” he said.

“Please, she’s fine.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “The only thing wrong with her is her habit of bending the truth.”

“I dunno. She seems really hurt,” Rose said as Lila let out a pathetic whimper.

“Why would she pretend to fall down the stairs?” Max asked.

“Because she’s crazy!” Marinette blurted before she could think better of it.

Her old classmates eyed her with puzzled gapes, and Marinette’s world rocked beneath her feet. Lila was doing it all over again. The trust her old friends once had for her was shattering, and the skeptical whispers were already starting.

Marinette’s hands balled into fists at her sides. How could they be so blind? This was exactly why she left in the first place! If she had stayed at Franscoise-Dupont, Lila would have pulled a scheme like this on her eventually. Marinette should have exposed her when she had the chance!

Kim pursed his lips and turned to Alix. “Isn’t there a security camera or something we can check?”

“Not for this stairwell.” Alix shook her head. “Trust me, I grind down these rails all the time because my dad can’t see me. It’s a total blind spot.”

“So, it’s Lila’s word versus yours, Marinette,” Alya said her name with a vitriol that made her skin crawl. “What do you have to say?”

“I-” Marinette glanced at each of their faces, stomach churning in knots.

“Why would you do this to me, Marinette?” Lila whimpered. “What have I ever done to you?”

Marinette bit her tongue hard, so Adrien spoke up.

“If you won’t believe Marinette, then believe me. She didn’t touch Lila,” he said.

“Of course you’re going to side with Marinette. That doesn’t prove anything.” Alya rolled her eyes.

“But it’s the truth!” Adrien shot back.

“I’m not really sure you two know what that word means anymore,” Alya said.

“Al.” Nino stepped in. “Enough. Let’s just get Lila back to the bus, okay? We can figure out what happened later.”

Alya shot Marinette and Adrien one final glare before stooping to help Lila up. Kim and Ivan helped her hobble to the main entrance, the rest of their classmates trailing slowly behind. Alix hung back, casting Marinette an apologetic wince.

“Sorry. I wish there was a way we could prove what really happened,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I know you never would.”

“Thanks, Alix,” Marinette said.

Alix flashed her a quick smile, then retreated after the rest of the class.

Adrien gave her hand a squeeze. “I better go too. We’ll deal with all of this later. I won’t let her get away with this, I promise.” He planted a quick kiss on her cheek and followed after Alix.

Marinette stood at the base of the stairs, nails digging into her palms until they broke the skin.

If you leave her like this, she’ll never stop.

But why did Marinette have to be the one to stop her?

She’s using all of the people you care about. Doesn’t that make your blood boil?

Of course, it did! Lila didn’t even care about them. All she wanted was attention! These were her friends, the people she loved and fought for. The ones who lifted her up when she was down. The people she grew up with, and Lila was taking them all away!

So, what’s our plan to destroy her?

Marinette made her way across town, her face a stoic mask concealing the rage burning underneath. Lila wanted her to fight back? Well, she was about to get a full storm.

“Dupain-Cheng?” Chloe quirked a brow when she opened the door to her suite.

“I changed my mind. I want to help you take down Lila.”

#mdcspr #marinette dupain cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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thefoldedbird · 2 years

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Overexertion

When you’ve spent over twenty years in the hands of modern medicine, trusting a witch doctor sounds like a bad idea. Zalazane’s not doing a very good job of not being offended by this.

No warnings

Orla groaned into the plush pillow, trying to shift further under the mass of blankets that had been haphazardly piled on the bed. Well, on top of her. Despite the fever still being very present, her body felt wet, sticky, and downright gross.

She supposed she should be grateful they even had a bed. Almost all Darkspear slept on the ground or on thin mats. Oh her back could never.

“H-how the hell do I feel hot and cold at the same time?” She muttered, shuddering as Vol’jin wiped her face with a damp cloth.

Vol’jin regarded her with an unhappy noise, brushing away the strands of hair matted to her face. “You abused your body, Bal’a, it be abusin’ you back.”

Orla scoffed, regretting it immediately when her throat practically caught fire in protest. Vol’jin held her steady as she coughed.

“Please, I abused the murlocs more than anything else.”

Vol’jin sighed and eased her back into the pillows. “And your body be dry of mojo ‘cause of it.”

The mage managed a small shrug, “worth it.”

The chieftain rolled his eyes. “Zalazane be makin’ his way here later for you. Might not be worth it then.”

Orla raised a brow, “why Zal?”

Vol’jin chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to her temple, “he be a witch doctor, mona. You know that.”

“…yeah?” The woman furrowed her brow, “last I checked, witch doctors were in the business of hexes and voodoo. That kind of thing.”

“Yes, while that be true, witch doctors also brew potions, alchemical t’ings.” Vol’jin crinkled his nose, “all nasty tasting.”

The mage blinked at him, an unimpressed look crossing her features. “Absolutely not.” Orla huffed as Vol’jin raised a brow, “I’m not drinking some random magic potion from a witch doctor.”

Vol’jin frowned, “don’t be speakin’ ill of the trade, Bal’a. It was my papa’s.”

Orla winced, weakly squeezing Vol’jin’s hand. “…sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

“You don’t trust Zalazane?” Vol’jin asked, helping the woman sit up again.

Orla took the glass of water he offered with shaky hands. Her arms felt like goo. “Dunno, has Zalazane ever made a potion for a human?”

“Should work the same on you.”

“Hmph, should or does?”

Vol’jin shook his head at the woman’s stubbornness, “my papa taught Zal a lot of what he knows. He be a fine witch doctor.”

Orla groaned, too tired to truly argue. “Ugh, fine. But if he kills me Bwonsamdi and I are going to have a field day fucking with you both.”

The chieftain chuckled and eased his mate back down, taking back the -now empty- cup of water. He tucked the blankets back around her shivering body and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Try ta’get some rest ‘fore he stops by. I’ll put more water on da’ table.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Vol'jin ear flicked and his cheeks tinged with a soft purple hue at the pet name. If Orla could have mustered the energy, she'd have teased him even more.

She did not expect to wake up feeling infinitely worse than before.

Worse yet, Zalazane stood over her with a positively annoyed look marring his face. Orla whined as she attempted to shift from her side to her back, but her limbs felt like they’d been filled with cement. She peered owlishly up at Zalazane, who folded his arms.

“Vol’jin tells me you don’t trust my work.”

Orla wanted to groan -expecting a lecture- but couldn’t seem to find her throat. She shuffled in the bed pitifully. God everything was just so hot.

“What, nothing to say for once?”

Orla tried to speak but her voice came out fried, only managing to make a pitifully strangled noise. She coughed violently, the dryness of her throat was unbearable. Zalazane perked in alarm and his brow furrowed. He knelt beside the bed, brushing her hair from her face.

“Orla…?”

The mage whimpered, leaning into the cool touch of his palm. The witch doctor quickly dropped pretenses, shifting her onto her back and sitting her up. Orla spasmed as coughs wracked her. She just wanted to sleep again.

“Hm, try ta keep sat up little one.” Zalazane murmured, letting her go once her cough subsided to rummage around in his bag.

“B-bad…” Orla strained, tears pricking at her vision. Without the blankets trapping her heat she was so so cold. She curled up as best she could.

“I know.” Zalazane replied softly, giving her arm a quick encouraging squeeze. “I’ll try to be quick.”

The pale blue troll pulled a round glass bottle from his bag. Inside it swirled a thick dark red liquid that seemed to clump together. Orla made a face.

"No getting out of it," Zalazane sighed and caught her arm as she tried to shift away, "you have to drink it."

Orla shook her head as vehemently as she could manage, "oh...hell no." she rasped.

Unfortunately, the witch doctor was far stronger than her. With a heavy sigh Zalazane pinned her to his chest and forced her head back by her neck, uncorking the bottle with a flick of his finger.

"This would go a lot faster if you stopped struggling," he grumbled, struggling to pry her jaw open.

It was a losing battle. Orla weakly thrashed as the foul, thick liquid made it passed her lips. Zal held her mouth shut and squeezed her neck, forcing her to choke and swallow. The woman roughly jabbed her elbow into the witch doctor's abdomen.

He swore and let go, dropping Orla on the wooden floorboards. She coughed violently as her stomach churned and gurgled angrily. She began to dry heave.

"Wh-what did you...do?" she whined, threw up, and passed out.

When next she woke she was warm. The normal warm. She was swaddled in blankets and sitting in someone's lap as they rubbed her back. Orla shifted back and looked up to find Vol'jin staring back, his face illuminated by the flickering fire pit.

"Hey," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "how ya feel?"

The woman shrugged and snuggled back into his chest, "better, I think? Did Zalazane give me something else?"

"I did not."

Orla leaned back and found Zalazane sitting just off to the side of her and Vol'jin, furiously writing away in a notebook. "Ya didn't react well to potions wit troll's blood."

Orla's lip curled in disgust, "no shit."

Zalazane threw up his hands, "how tha' fuck was I supposed t'know dat?"

"Humans are designed to throw up blood if they swallow too much of it. Especially if it's not ours." She spat, disgusted.

"Dat's stupid."

"You're stupid."

"What? Not muh fault ya couldn't handle it!"

"How's about you handle my boot in your ass?"

"Alright, both o' ya!" Vol'jin snapped, covering Orla's mouth, though quickly removed his hand when she started to lick it, opting to instead bop her on the nose. She grumbled as her eyes watered.

Zalazane held his hands out in surrender, returning to his journal scribbles, "we'll waylay treatin' humans fer now."

"Maybe he's just trying to kill me," Orla mused, her tone teasing, "between the soup and the potion..."

Vol'jin barely muffled a snort as the witch doctor showed them both a crude gesture. Orla snuggled closer into her bonded's fuzzy chest, breathing in his scent. "...thanks for trying anyway." she muttered.

Zalazane paused his scribbling and nodded quietly.

"...maybe next time I'll break you into stormwind's library. We'll have a grand time. Steal some books."

"Ha, deal."

Vol'jin sighed and shook his head, "like children, ya two be."

Zalazane snorted and punched the chieftain's shoulder, "don't be actin' like ya don't want ta come too. Always a good time fer’ a troll raid.”

While Vol’jin didn't reply, the grin marring his cheeks betrayed his opinion well enough.

#world of warcraft #wow #warcraft #wow troll #my writing #vol’jin x oc #voljin #vol'jin #Zalazane #fluff #sickfic #witch doctor #two spirits au

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

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M’Baku’s Love- Chapter 10 (Finale)

Thanks for bearing with me on this journey, it’s been a good one. Here’s the last chapter, I hope y’all like it! Normally I would post on M’Baku Mondays, but I just couldn’t wait to share this ending with the like 5 people who read my stories.

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist HERE to read my other stories. M’Baku fans, don’t fret, I have another M’Baku fic starting next week...well its an M’Baku x OC x T’Challa fic. That’s right, we’re going for a throuple. Check out the preview HERE. As always, let me know what y’all think and if you want to be tagged in any of my other stories.

CW: smut

Word count: 10,630

Monae fiddled with JJ’s collar as they stood on the tarmac waiting for the Talon to touch down. He loved seeing Uncle Challa’s “spaceship” and they regularly got to see him off and welcome him back. This time would be a little different though since he would be bringing M’Baku to meet his son for the first time. Monae’s nerves were shot and she vibrated with anticipation.

As the ship came into view a lump caught in Monae’s throat. She was about to see him again for the first time in years...he was about to meet their son. She could still barely process the fact that he was alive and almost needed to see it to believe it, but he was just a few moments away.

The Talon floated closer and closer to the ground and her palms grew sweaty when it finally made contact.

JJ jumped up and down as the doors opened and he saw Okoye and Ayo exit the craft. He immediately went to go hug his aunties as he waited for his favorite uncle to come out. Pretty soon he emerged, alone, and JJ ran to him and jumped in his arms.

“Uncle Challa!”

“Igorila encinci, I’ve missed you! Are you being good for your mama?”

“Yes!” T’Challa raised an eyebrow and looked back to Monae who was steadily creeping closer. She nodded with a smile and T’Challa started tickling JJ, making him let loose the boisterous laugh he no doubt got from his father.

Monae’s eyes travelled to the open door behind T’Challa and he noticed, giving her a soft smile. “He needs a minute.”

She nodded and looked down, twiddling her thumbs when JJ’s voice brought her out of her daze.

“Uncle Challa, who’s that?” he looked over the king’s shoulder and saw a large man hesitantly stepping through the Talon door and into the light. T’Challa set JJ down and turned to look at Monae, but her eyes were already raining tears down her face.

“That is my friend, M’Baku. Why don’t you say hi?”

M’Baku walked down the ramp and met the king on the ground, unable to take his eyes off the little boy in front of him. He looked just like a miniature version of him with a head full of locs. The pictures didn’t do him justice.

JJ waved at the stranger and introduced himself, “Hi! I’m Jabari, but everyone calls me JJ. What’s your name?”

M’Baku’s eyes grew misty as his child smiled up at him. He cleared his throat and got down on one knee so he could be eye-level with JJ.

“My name is M’Baku, and I am-” he cut himself off, as he looked up and made eye contact with a crying Monae behind T’Challa. The king moved out of the way and gave the little family some privacy, joining his Dora near the car and trying not to be nosy and watch too intently. Monae took a step forward and that was all the permission he needed. He stood from the ground, and just as he did she threw her arms around him, crying into his chest. His head rested on top of hers as he cried and rocked her from side to side.

“Mommy? What’s wrong?” M’Baku wiped Monae’s tears before she turned to their son and squatted down to his height.

“JJ, baby...remember how mommy told you your daddy died before you were born?”

He nodded his head silently with his brows furrowed.

“Well I was wrong...and Uncle Challa was nice enough to bring him here to us,” she looked to M’Baku and smiled, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his son.

“You’re my dad?”

“Yes, you can call me ‘baba’ if you like.”

“Baba? What’s that mean?”

“It means ‘father’ in my language.”

“What language is that?”

“Xhosa.”

“Oh, like Umalume Challa.”

M’Baku smiled up at Monae, “He knows Xhosa?”

“T’Challa taught him some, he’s pretty good. He’s even teaching me a little bit.”

“Yeah, she’s a fast learner like me!”

“That’s right,” she tickled his sides and his infectious laughter rang out again, the most beautiful song M’Baku had ever heard. When he came down from his tickle high his eyes settled back on M’Baku.

“So if you weren’t dead where were you?”

“I do not know…”

“Baby, you remember the other day when people started appearing out of nowhere?” he nodded again, “That’s what happened to your baba.”

He still didn’t really understand just what actually happened with those people, but knowing his baba had been one of them and wasn’t dead or just gone for no reason eased his mind.

Both adults stood and Monae grabbed JJ’s hand as they walked back towards T’Challa, who was trying really hard to not seem like he was eavesdropping. JJ reached up and grabbed M’Baku’s hand and all the adults present struggled to keep their composure.

--------

Every time the Wakandans came to town, they stopped by Monae’s house for dinner at least once, so the group split in two as they got in their cars to drive to Monae’s. Monae could hardly speak, so she was thankful that JJ was full of questions on the ride home.

“So do I have grandparents?”

“Yes, and my mama would love to meet you.”

“How is Ada?”

“Shaken up...she was also one of the Dusted.”

“The Dusted?” JJ asked.

“Yes, that is what we Jabari call the people who disappeared and reappeared.”

“I thought your name was M’Baku, not Jabari.”

M’Baku chuckled.

“It is, but I come from the Jabari people. In fact, I am the-”

Monae cleared her throat and subtly shook her head.

“-I am...excited for you to meet them.”

“What are they like?”

M’Baku and JJ went back and forth the entire ride home as Monae drove in a daze, her brain still trying to process being so close to M’Baku again. The drive only took about ten minutes and as they pulled up to the house M’Baku’s eyes scanned the neighborhood, taking it all in. He saw the colonizers walking their dogs by the old drunks outside the corner store, and he noticed the expensive cookie cutter townhouses right next to the smaller, old homes that had been there for decades. This was definitely not the Nashville Monae had told him about.

M’Baku couldn't help but smile as they walked into her house and he felt the same warmth and openness he felt in her apartment all those years ago. Monae headed straight for the kitchen to check on the vegetable gumbo she had going in the slow cooker all day while JJ pulled M’Baku into the living room with everyone else. Monae watched with a smile as JJ talked his baba’s ear off and showed him around, pointing out the pictures on the wall. M’Baku’s eyes wandered over the photos, but he was distracted by a loud “meow” and a paw on his pants leg.

“Juju, old friend.” He reached down to pet her and she moved away from his hand, choosing instead to go back the way she came.

“Don’t be sad, she does that sometimes,” JJ comforted his dad, whose jaw was hanging open in disbelief until he heard the tinkling of a bell. Sure enough, Juju trotted back in and dropped her favorite feather toy at M’Baku’s feet. “Hey, she likes you!”

The three of them played together for a couple minutes, all the while M’Baku kept an eye on Monae slowly pacing back and forth in the kitchen. JJ chased Juju off through the house and M’Baku took the moment to try to talk to Monae while everyone was preoccupied setting the table and securing the perimeter of the house.

Monae stirred the gumbo and tried her best to calm her nerves, but the butterflies in her stomach weren’t going away any time soon. They weren’t helped by the heat that crept up against her back as a large shadow loomed over her. She turned around to face him and he tipped her chin up.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I...um, it’s already done.”

“You are nervous...why?”

“M’Baku,” she sighed, “I need you to understand that you died, or I thought you were dead. I mourned you. I buried you in my mind and visit on your deathiversary every year...but you crawled back out of that grave and it’s just hard for me to wrap my mind around.”

He nodded and placed a kiss on her forehead before moving back and giving her space. Monae cleared her throat and shook herself from her daze. She needed to get a handle on herself and fast.

“JJ, come wash your hands.”

The little boy came sprinting from the back room.

“No running inside,” Monae and T’Challa echoed each other and JJ slowed down, sheepishly walking the rest of the way to the stepstool at the kitchen sink. M’Baku helped him wash his hands as Monae filled their bowls with rice and gumbo. She grabbed a bottle of hot sauce from the counter and placed it in the middle of the table before sitting down at the head.

“So, T, how’s Nakia?”

“She’s doing well. This pregnancy has been much easier on her than the first. In fact, she and the twins will be coming back with me next time.”

“Really?!” JJ was excited to see his play cousins, it had been months since the last time Hasina and Hasani visited. They were only a few months older than him, and the three of them were inseparable whenever they got together.

M’Baku sat back and watched their interactions, feeling slightly left out. He had missed so much of their lives. What was her pregnancy like? What were his first words? He just had to know. Right as he worked up the nerve to interrupt the ongoing conversation, JJ did it for him.

“Baba?”

M’Baku was still so unused to hearing that name, however he already loved how it sounded.

“Yes, JJ?”

“So what did it feel like when you got Dusted?”

Monae almost choked on her gumbo.

“JJ, let’s not-”

“I did not even know I had gone anywhere...it felt like no time had passed.”

“So you...you really think it’s been two months since we last saw each other?” Monae asked him.

“Yes, although I know now that is not the case,” he smiled at JJ who gave him a snaggletoothed smile right back. He turned to T’Challa, his face turning serious. “Thank you for looking after them, brother.”

“Any time, they are family. Isn’t that right igorila encinci?”

“Yes!”

Monae chuckled as she got up to bring out his favorite pineapple upside down cake she made late the night before. She disappeared into the kitchen as the others continued to talk amongst themselves.

“You call him ‘little gorilla’, eh?”

“Well yes, he is your son.”

“Do they call you the ‘Big Gorilla’ or something?”

“No, I am the Great Gorilla, ruler of the Jabari-”

“You’re a king, too?!”

“What?!” Monae yelled from the kitchen.

Okoye, Ayo, and T’Challa all made eye contact and decided it was a good time to leave.

“Well, we do not want to intrude so we will see you tomorrow,” Okoye rushed out.

“Monae, do you need any help cleaning up or anything before we leave?” Ayo added.

“No thank you. Y’all get to the hotel safe, see you tomorrow.” She and JJ hugged the three of them and they took their leave. As soon as Monae closed the door behind them, JJ went right back to the previous conversation.

“So if you’re a king, that makes me a prince!”

“JJ, go upstairs and start getting ready for bed, I’ll be up soon.”

He sighed, but did what his mom told him, but before he made it all the way up the stairs he turned around and asked, “Is baba staying?”

Monae turned to look at M’Baku questioningly.

“If your mother will have me.”

“Please mommy!”

“No need for all that, I want him to stay too,” she laughed as her son ran back down the stairs to hug them both before going up to his room.

“So you want me to stay?”

Monae rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have told him he’s a prince, M’Baku.”

“Why not? He is a prince, he should know.”

The two of them cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher as they went back and forth.

“He’s too young, that’s why. I want him to have a normal life.”

“He is not a ‘normal’ boy, Monae, he is royalty. He is my heir.”

She knew he was right, but she just didn’t want to let go of the life she and JJ had that she knew now was about to be turned on its head. She didn’t want to have the conversation that she knew they needed to have.

“Let’s put JJ to bed and then come back to this.”

M’Baku agreed and the two of them went upstairs to do just that. After JJ’s bath, M’Baku told him the story of how the Jabari found the mountains, and he was hanging on every word until sleep overtook him and he passed out around 8:30.

Monae was almost moved to tears by their interaction, and she kept from sniffling as both adults crept out the room and back downstairs. She went straight to the wine rack and cracked open a merlot, pouring two generous glasses for the two of them. He grabbed her hand and led her to the couch, sitting down next to her and pulling her legs across his lap. She didn’t know what to do, her mind still hadn’t caught up with her body yet, but her body melted right into him.

“I know it has not been as long for me as it has for you...but I have missed you, Babygirl.”

M’Baku heard a sniffle and looked down at her as her body shook and tears escaped her eyes. He grabbed the wine glass from her and set both glasses on the coffee table in front of them before placing his arm around her and pulling her in tight.

The next hour or so consisted of M’Baku consoling Monae as she released five years of grief she had been holding onto. After a while, she calmed down and they sat in silence before she tore herself away from his lap and took a deep breath. She looked into his eyes and he moved in for a kiss, but she pulled away at the last second.

“So what now?” She asked and his eyebrows furrowed as she spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“JJ...since he’s a prince and all.”

M’Baku took a sip of his previously untouched wine, prompting Monae to do the same.

“He will need to come be with his people, Monae.”

“He has people here too, M’Baku. He has friends and a community here.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Coparenting.”

“Coparenting?”

“Yes. I don’t want him to lose his home here or keep him from his home there...so lets let him have both.”

“I do not want you two halfway around the world-”

“And I don’t want him so far away from me, but parenthood involves sacrifice. Welcome to the club.”

“Then come with him.”

--------

“She is being unreasonable!” M’Baku sat on the couch in T’Challa’s office, complaining to the king and queen. He had stayed with Monae for only a weekend since he needed to get back to ruling his kingdom that was still restructuring after the return of the Dusted, but in that short time he was unable to convince her to let JJ live with his people.

“I think she was being more than generous. I don’t even like when T’Challa takes the twins with him to America without me , I can’t imagine being without them for any longer than that.”

“Yes, but she could just move here! And at first she said we would split our time 50/50, now she wants to keep him during the school year and I get summers.”

“You’d prefer to disrupt the boy’s education?” the king chimed in.

“Oh please, we both know he would have a much better education here anyway.”

“True, but you’re asking Monae to uproot her whole life,” T’Challa added.

“M’Baku, you need to look at this like a parent, not like a chief. He’s just a little boy, he’s her little boy-”

“Our little boy.”

“For like five minutes. She’s been there for five years. She’s kissed his wounds and weathered temper tantrums. She pushed that boy out in the middle of her living room, she caught her own baby despite the fact that the midwife was right there. It’s just been the two of them since her aunt died...you can’t just expect her to give in so easily. You’re asking a lot of her.”

“Maybe if they both came to visit it would ease her mind a little,” T’Challa suggested.

“Could the two of you try to talk to her?”

“Absolutely not,” Nakia said as T’Challa shook his head.

“This is between the two of you, my friend.”

“Uncle Challa and Aunt Kiki are sitting this one out, sorry.” Nakia’s hands raised in surrender.

“Aunt Kiki?”

“I couldn’t let him be the only one with a nickname.”

M’Baku nodded as he mulled over their conversation in his head. He felt they were probably right, but he needed one more opinion.

When M’Baku made it back to Jabari land he went straight to his mother’s quarters to seek her advice. He found her in the middle of braiding her hair, and sat across from her as she worked.

“So how is my grandson? Did you bring me pictures?”

“Of course, mama,” he pulled up pictures of JJ on his beads, swiping through and smiling like a fool as he looked at his son. “He is well. He is so inquisitive and joyous...Monae has done a good job on her own.”

“Of course she has, I always liked that one.”

“I know,” M’Baku chuckled before his face fell.

“What is it?”

“It is Monae...she wants to coparent. She would have him during the school year and I would have him during their summer break.”

“That sounds pretty good to me.”

M’Baku sighed and hung his head.

“That is what the queen said.”

“Smart woman, our queen.”

“That she is...mama, I do not want to be apart from him so much, but Monae refuses to move here. I do not know what to do.”

“It sounds to me like you will be making a lot more trips to America then. She never said you could not see him, just that he stays in America with her. That does not have to exclude you.”

“I have duties here-”

“M’Baku we were gone for five years and the council ran things just fine, and before that you were gone for three months. I am not saying you should move there, just that your job is much more flexible than you realize.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of Wakanda, the king decided to go back on his word just a little and texted Monae and asked her to call him when she had the chance. Later that night, his phone rang and he looked to see it was Monae calling. He checked to make sure he was alone in his quarters before answering. Thankfully, Nakia was down the hall putting the twins to bed while he worked on some last minute paperwork, or she’d have his head for this.

“Monae, I’m glad you called. How are you today?”

“I’d be much better if the city wasn’t breathing down our necks about this block party.”

“I’ll handle them, don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks T.”

“No problem.”

“So what’s up? It sounded important.”

“Yes, well, it is. I spent the earlier half of today listening to a certain chief bemoan his new custody arrangement.”

“You can’t talk me out of it. I don’t even want him gone during the summer, that was hard enough.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I would dare, however, to formally invite you to Wakanda. Come see it for yourself for a couple weeks, you might like it. If nothing else, it will ease your mind for when Jabari comes here by himself.”

“Me...come to Wakanda? What about my job?”

“Don’t worry about that, just worry about when you want to leave. We can have a jet there immediately if you wish.”

“Jazz is moving in on Saturday, how about next weekend?”

“Next weekend it is.”

“Can we keep this between us? I want to surprise him.”

T’Challa chuckled just as Nakia walked in the room, “It won’t be easy to keep from him.”

“Try your best.” She knew there was a good chance T’Challa would let it slip to M’Baku. Everyone knew the king was notoriously bad at keeping secrets.

He looked up and saw Nakia standing in front of him with her eyebrow raised and a hand on her hip, her belly protruding in her nightgown. He mouthed “Monae” and pointed to his phone.

“You just couldn't help but meddle, eh?” She rolled her eyes.

“Is that Nakia? Hey Kiki girl, I miss you!” T’Challa moved the phone away from his ear before she blew his eardrums out.

“Hey Nae! Is my husband meddling in your business?”

“Only a little, but it’s good. Thanks to him, I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“You're coming to Wakanda?! Oh thank Bast, now I don’t have to hear M’Baku-”

“It’s just for a couple weeks, sis,” Monae chuckled as Nakia deflated.

“Well that’s better than nothing.”

“Keep it between us though.”

“So you tell him?” Nakia laughed as her husband looked at her in faux offense.

“It was his idea!” The ladies continued to laugh and talk as T’Challa’s grimace grew.

“Ok, well I know it’s late there, so see y'all in a couple weeks?”

“We’ll be here,” They ended the call and T’Challa looked to the queen, shrugging.

“I couldn’t help myself.”

Nakia laughed and crawled in bed next to her husband, both of them swiftly falling asleep after a long day of ruling a whole country.

--------

JJ was super excited to ride in the Talon, never having seen the inside before, and even though Monae worked around Wakandan technology, she was just as much in awe of the futuristic aircraft as her son. Okoye made sure they were comfortable on their trip, but Monae’s anxiety almost got the best of her. There were times when she almost started hyperventilating, but then JJ’s bright smiling face brought her back out of it. She was leaving the country for the first time in her life and flying in a human spaceship to a formerly hidden African country with technology way more advanced than the rest of the world. If someone had told her ten years ago that this would be her life, she would’ve laughed in their face, yet here she was.

When Okoye called them to the front of the ship to watch them enter the dome, Monae’s heart almost beat out of her chest as they glided through the trees and into Wakanda. The city she saw before her blew her away, it was bigger and more beautiful than New York or Tokyo or any of those other big cities she’d seen or read about. The real life afrofuturism stunned her to silence, and it was only broken when JJ noticed the people waiting for them to land.

“Look, it’s Uncle Challa and Auntie Kiki and Auntie Shuri and Uncle Daka and Hasina and Hasani. Where’s baba? And who's that?”

“Baba isn't here, baby. We’re here to surprise him...and I think that’s T’Challa and Shuri’s mom.”

When the ship touched down and the doors opened, JJ ran out and tackled his play family in hugs and kisses. Monae carefully made her way down the stairs and joined the group, giving hugs all around.

“Long time no see, Nae!” The prince

“How’s Oakland treating you?”

“Much worse now that I have left,” Shuri interjected, making N’Jadaka roll his eyes and mush her face. “Hey!”

“Oakland’s great, running just like before. You should come visit.”

“Only if you visit the Nashville Center.”

“Deal.”

Monae turned to see JJ walk up the one person there she didn’t know.

“Are you Uncle Challa and Auntie Shuri’s mom?”

Queen Mother chuckled and bent down closer to his level, “That I am. And you must be Jabari.”

“Or JJ!”

“Nice to meet you, JJ. My name is Ramonda.”

“Can I call you Auntie too?”

“Of course, you wouldn’t be the first,” she winked at the older prince and he smirked back.

“Monae, dear, I’ve heard so much about you. All good things, of course. How are you?”

“Honestly, Queen Mother, I’m a little nervous to be here.”

“Trust me, you will love Wakanda. And you are family, call me Auntie.”

The group relocated to the domestic wing of the palace as the kids ran ahead and Queen Mother chatted with Monae. T’Challa showed them to their rooms, and allowed them time to get settled in before dinner in an hour.

Monae was nervous, she knew she would see M’Baku at dinner, and since T’Challa has a flair for the dramatic he had planned for her to get there a little late and make an entrance. Well, not a huge entrance, since it would be a small family dinner, but still. She fixed the collar on JJ’s shirt and then smoothed out the front of her purple dress that contrasted beautifully with her pink fade. She took a final breath before reaching for the door handle and being led down the hallway by the palace guards. They arrived at the double doors and Monae froze.

“Mommy?”

“Y-yes baby?”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”

“Don’t be nervous, it’s just baba.”

His words echoed in her head as she thought back to their time together. It’s just M’Baku, she thought to herself before taking one last breath and opening the doors.

When M’Baku arrived he was confused to see the two extra place settings, and as the food was brought out his confusion only grew. When the doors opened and his eyes met Monae’s he felt his heart drop into his stomach. JJ ran to him and threw his arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi baba!”

“Hello,” M’Baku chuckled. “What are you two doing here?” He got up and went over to Monae, enclosing her in a hug.

“Someone had the idea that I should surprise you and come see Wakanda for myself. Maybe that way I’ll be less nervous about him coming out here.” Monae took in his traditional attire and tried not to make her infatuation so obvious, but she failed. He looked damn good in his chief furs.

“How long are you here for?”

“Just two weeks.”

“That is all the time I need.”

“For what?”

“To convince you to stay,” he winked and walked her to her seat, pulling it out for her as she fussed at him.

“I never said I was staying, I said we’re here to visit.”

“Tomato, potato,” M’Baku said as Monae almost spit out her drink and half of the table fell out in laughter.

“I think you mean ‘tomayto, tomahto’ my G,” N’Jadaka corrected him with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

Monae grabbed M’Baku’s hand and squeezed it before he brought it to his lips for a kiss. She allowed it since she was slowly getting used to him again and he couldn’t be happier.

“So, Monae, how do you like your rooms?”

“They’re so nice! Mine alone is the size of my first floor at home, add in JJ’s and we have the whole house.”

“Wait until you sleep on the bed-”

“Wait, are you not staying with me?”

“Well I didn’t want to assume…”

“You two will always have a place with me. I can have your things moved while we eat, unless you would rather stay here.

Monae was apprehensive about the cold, but she had to remind herself why she was here. Everything was for JJ.

“Ok, we’ll stay with you.”

“Yay!” JJ cheered as a huge gap toothed smile appeared on M’Baku’s face.

--------

“I can’t believe you did this…”

Monae looked around JJ’s room and almost shed a tear.

“I had it set up as soon as I learned I had a child. We can personalize it and change it however he wants, I have interior decorators lined up-”

“M’Baku, it’s perfect. I mean, look at him...look how happy he looks.”

JJ picked up a pretend sword and M’Baku beamed at the future warrior. Monae playfully rolled her eyes as they watched him play-fight with an imaginary assailant.

“I will have to teach him how to fight for real one day, you know?”

Monae sighed, reminding herself yet again that this was all for JJ. “I know.”

“But you do not like it?”

“No, I don’t like the idea of my son running into battle,” Monae snipped before taking a second and centering herself. “I’m sorry, I’m just...I’m trying, ok?”

“I know. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome...so my room?”

“Yes, right next door here.”

He showed her the room and the view from her window stunned her speechless. She could see all of Wakanda.

“This view…”

“The best in all of Wakanda.”

She felt him close behind her and turned around, coming face to face with the Jabari chief.

“Better than yours?”

“No,” he smirked. “Let me show you.”

They checked in on JJ, who had already curled up with a storybook ready for bedtime.

M’Baku read to his son as his eyelids fell and he eventually drifted off to dreamland. The two adults snuck out of the room quietly and closed the door behind them, saying good night to the guards, before walking just a few doors down and entering the largest room Monae had ever seen. It sat on the corner of the palace, with a large balcony swooping around the side, looking out onto all of Wakanda. She could see even more of the beautiful country and maybe even past it to neighboring countries as well.

“This is...wow.”

“Sometimes I cannot believe it myself. Can I get you anything? Water, whiskey, tea?”

“Tea would be great actually,” she sat down on the couch as her eyes continued to wander around the space before they landed on his bookshelf.

“See anything you recognize?”

She got up to take a closer look and saw the books she gave him all those years ago, and a shy smile took over her face. She continued to browse his space, much like he did the first time she brought him to her place five years ago.

“Is this you? You look just like him!” Monae stopped on a picture of a young M’Baku with his parents. JJ held a striking resemblance to young M’Baku just like how older M’Baku looked just like his father in the picture. “The Jabari must have strong genes...I thought my family all looked alike, y’all are something else. Let me guess, you look like your granddaddy, too?”

“I do, actually,” he chuckled as he handed her a cup of jasmine tea. “Have a seat, make yourself comfortable.” M’Baku disappeared into what Monae assumed was a closet and reemerged in a brown hoodie and sweatpants.

She kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs under her as she sat on the couch, sipping her tea.

“So…” she started.

“So?”

“So, I guess we should talk about JJ.”

“JJ is fine for now, let us talk about something else. Like why you are so nervous around me.”

“I’m not nervous-” he cut her off with a look. “Ok, fine, I’m nervous, but I don’t know why.”

“Monae,” he turned her jaw towards him so they could look into each other’s eyes, “I know this is hard for you, I do. And I am not asking for you to completely uproot your life for me, but I want to be with you again...even if we have to make it work across the world.”

“M’Baku, I-” her head dropped.

“Do not have to make a decision right now.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…”

“Is there someone else?”

“Wh- no! I barely have time for myself, much less anyone else. I mean, I’ve gone on dates, had a few hookups-”

“Please, spare me the details.”

“Right, sorry,” she cleared her throat. “Don’t you have some royal suitors lined up or something?”

He chuckled, “I did, until I met you. They had been trying to find a chieftess for me for years.”

“Chieftess?”

“Yes, my wife would be my chieftess.”

“And if we get back together…?”

“I told you I could give you a kingdom, Monae.”

She hadn’t noticed he’d moved closer until she felt his breath on her cheek. She turned to meet his face and their lips connected, making fireworks shoot all over Monae’s body. She pulled back and looked at him before she straddled his body and dove back in for more. Their tongues danced against each other as the kiss turned passionate and his hands explored her body. He let out a moan as his hands gripped her ass that had gotten bigger over time. Her waist was thicker and her breasts hung a little lower, and he loved every inch of her. She grinded into his lap as she sucked on his bottom lip and he let out another moan that sounded closer to a growl before pulling back.

“If you want me to stop-”

“Don’t stop.”

A fire burned behind his eyes as she pulled her dress over her head, revealing her body to him. His fingers traced over the stretch marks on her stomach and she shivered at his touch as his eyes raked up and down her naked form. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, he stood with her in his hands and walked her to the bed, lightly placing her down in the middle.

“I have missed you so much Babygirl,” he said between kisses as she squeezed her legs tighter around him. She could feel his dick hardening between his legs as she opened her legs wider to let him in.

He kissed down her body until he reached her center, his lips ghosting over hers as he thanked Hanuman for bringing this woman back into his life before digging in like it was his last meal. Monae writhed on the bed as his tongue alternated between exploring her insides and licking her clit into submission. When his lips closed around her as he sloppily tongue kissed her entire pussy, she let out a deep moan that overwhelmed her emotionally and tears sprang from her eyes.

“Cum in my mouth.”

“Mm, yes.” her tears continued to pour out of her eyes as her body shook and tensed up before releasing a deluge onto his tongue. He didn’t stop either, he kept pushing her to her breaking point over and over again until he finally got tired and kissed his way back up her body.

“Are you ok?” he asked as he wiped her tears away.

“I’m ok,” she nodded.

“You are crying more than usual.”

“I just really missed you. It’s hard to explain how all this feels and the feelings are overwhelming as fuck...but I know I want this. I know I want you.”

He pecked her lips.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Monae, I am not just talking about sex-”

Her hands cupped his face and she pulled him into her so their foreheads rested against each other. “Neither am I.”

His thumb traced her bottom lip as he stared into her big brown eyes. Her hand made its way down his body and rested between his legs, rubbing along his thick, juicy dick that she missed oh so much. She grabbed the head and rubbed her thumb over his tip before running her fingernails up the leg of his sweatpants. She caught the bottom of his sweatshirt and pulled it up, prompting him to break their kiss and pull the hoodie over his head. His pants went next and she was met with the sight of his beautiful naked body.

He came back in for a kiss and she pulled his body over hers, opening herself to him again. He rested his forearm on the pillow next to her head and his other hand found its home under her knee, pulling her leg back even more as he leaned in to kiss her deeply.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear as he slowly pushed inside her, working his way in one inch at a time then pulling out and pushing in deeper with each thrust. Her relatively short nails marked up his back as he filled her in a way she hadn’t been filled in years. She felt emotions swirl in her chest and escape from her eyes and he kissed her tears away one by one.

Once he was fully seated inside her he stilled to compose himself, allowing her to feel all of him inside her. Her pussy squeezed him tight and she grinded up into him.

“Move, baby.”

His hips pulled back before rolling forward, pushing deep into her wetness as she cried out to the heavens. Every thrust brought their already intertwined bodies closer together and he looked down at her with love in his eyes as he played her body like a drum. Monae couldn’t handle all the feelings and eventually they boiled over and she snapped, cumming all over him and rolling them over so that she was on top. Her hips worked him like it was her job, and her hands clawed at his shoulders. She corkscrewed her hips as she leaned her body back away from him, exposing her breasts for him to play with. And that he did, taking them into his mouth and teasing her pebbled buds before covering her entire neck and chest in kisses and light nibbles as she got up on her tiptoes and pounded her hips down onto his pelvis.

She felt the pressure rising in her lower abdomen and circled her hips, dragging her clit along his body and letting out a moan from deep within her soul as the pressure released.

“Let me see that arch in your back,” he said with a slap to her asscheek. Monae hopped up and kneeled down next to him before leaning forward and dropping her top half to the bed, leaving her voluptuous ass in the air for him to do as he pleased.

“Good girl.” He came up behind her and entered her in one swift motion, grabbing her hips and thrusting into her with rhythmic abandon.

“Yes! Yes!” was all she could say as she gripped the sheets in front of her and did her best to hold her ass up for him. He could tell she was struggling, so his hands came up under her hips and lifted them for her, making sure he got the correct angle to hit her spot. His grunts of passion mixed with her high pitched moans as he tore her apart to create a symphony in the large room, their voices echoing off the walls and out into the mountains.

His hands slipped and her body slid to the bed, prompting him to lean over her body and pull her neck back for a sloppy kiss, tongues meeting each other before their lips did. He used his other hand to grip her ass tight after slapping it.

“I feel you getting ready to cum again,” he whispered in her ear, “I am right there with you, Babygirl. Just tell me where you want it.”

“I-inside me. Please, Daddy.”

He flipped her over and plunged back inside, kissing her deeply as he dug into her. Monae’s nails found the same indents as before as he gave her all he had to give. Their foreheads connected as her walls contracted around him and his strokes faltered.

“M’Baku!” she cried out as she exploded all over him again, kicking his orgasm into gear as he stared deep into her eyes and emptied himself into her. The two of them fought to catch their breath as they untangled and laid next to each other. As they came down she was finally able to find the words she had buried for so long.

“M’Baku?”

“Hm?” He turned to look at her with his arm folded behind his head and she curled up at his side.

“I love you too.”

He chuckled and kissed her nose, “I know, Babygirl.”

--------

The next day, M’Baku showed his family around to the other tribes, but of course he saved the best for last. The Jabari people welcomed Monae and JJ with open arms and a week later, they held a celebration in honor of the little prince. He loved the attention, but mostly he just liked getting to play with his Panther tribe cousins and the other Jabari kids. Several elders came up to Monae to ask questions about marriage, all of which she managed to dance around like an expert, but the questions about JJ’s crowning were a little harder for her to dodge. She had hoped they would be able to put it off some, but it didn’t seem as though the elders were too keen on waiting. After the feast was over and the two parents put JJ to bed, Monae finally spoke up.

“So...the elders…”

“Yes, they seem to like you

“Oh I know they like me, each one of them asked me at least twice when I’m marrying you.”

“When are you marrying me?”

“M’Baku I-”

“No I am serious, Monae,” he cooed as he walked towards her. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“That is not a good enough reason.”

“I have Jazz, and my job, and my friends.”

He grabbed her hands in his.

“Monae, Nakia did your job at the Oakland Center while living in Wakanda part time...travelling to see Jazz and your friends, or bringing them here even, would not be a problem. You are best friends with the king and queen, not to mention you yourself would be a chieftess...these problems are easily fixed, my love.”

Monae removed her hands from his and walked to the balcony, pulling the collar of her fur coat up to shield her from the elements. He followed after her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on hers.

“M’Baku, I’m not saying no...I’m saying I can’t just up and follow a man I was with for just two months to the other side of the world because he magically reappears in my life.”

“I am not just some man, Monae,” he turned her around to look at him, “I am Lord M’Baku the Great Gorilla, Chief of the Jabari. I am the father of your son. I am the man that you fell madly in love with in just two months. I do not want you to follow me, I want you to be with me...even on the other side of the world, if that is where your heart desires to be.”

“What would I even do here?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“You could teach dance classes, or plan events, or whatever else might play to your skillset. You can even do nothing for the rest of your life if you want to-”

He was cut off by a nigga please glare from Monae.

“So basically, I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes.”

“And JJ? What will he do?”

“He will do everything Jabari children do. He will go to school, learn to fight, and when he is in his teens I will start preparing him to take over one day.”

“Teens?! Isn’t that too young still?”

“He will not be in charge then, think of it more as an apprenticeship.”

“Ok...this is a lot to take in, M’Baku. I’ll talk to JJ and see what he thinks.”

“But he is just a child.”

“And as his mom I want him to know that even though I have the final say, his voice gets to be heard.”

“You are a good mother.”

A tear came to her eye and she looked down, “Thank you.”

“If I absolutely had to accidentally abandon a child with anybody, I am glad it was you.”

They broke into laughter and he kissed her forehead.

“We will figure it out.”

The two of them fell asleep in each other’s arms, and when the next morning came Monae decided breakfast would be as good a time as any to gauge JJ’s reaction to their possible move.

M’Baku flipped the pancakes on the griddle as Monae sat at the table with JJ, both coloring away in his Blue’s Clues coloring book. They were so engrossed in their artwork that they barely even noticed him set the food down in front of them until he cleared his throat. They both looked at him and gave a sheepish grin, making M’Baku wonder how JJ could look so much like him yet so much like his mother at the same time.

Monae made JJ’s plate and cut up his pancakes for him before digging into her own. The pancakes melted in her mouth and the eggs were perfect fluffy clouds. She had forgotten how good he was in the kitchen. “Mmm this is delicious.”

“Baba, you can really cook. You’re as good as mommy!”

The adults chuckled as M’Baku sat down and dug in, enjoying the fruits of his labor. After a few minutes of just scraping utensils silling the silence, Monae cleared her throat.

“So...JJ. How do you like it here?”

“It’s really cold, but it’s fun. I like the snowball fights.”

“You are very good at them,” M’Baku added.

“You are. So do you like it more than home?”

“No they’re both good, especially with Auntie Jazz there now.”

Monae had hoped for a clear cut answer, but it didn’t seem like she’d be getting one.

“Well what do you like about both places?” she asked.

“Here there’s baba and umakhulu and Hasani and Hasina and my aunts and uncles and rhinos and snow. Auntie Jazz is at home though, and so are my friends and Juju and the Center.”

Monae contemplated his words, still not coming to a concrete solution.

“JJ, how about you help me clean up the kitchen?” M’Baku asked after noticing the perplexed look stuck on Monae’s face.

“Ok!” JJ hopped down from his chair as M’Baku collected the plates from the table and brought them to the sink. Monae watched how the two of them interacted while they washed and dried the dishes. JJ and M’Baku had grown close in the time they had spent in Jabari land. She loved watching them laugh and goof off together, and every time she watched him read JJ a story at night, her heart felt full. When they finished washing dishes M’Baku sat back down at the table with Monae and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“Did that help with your decision making?”

“Not at all, he’s so diplomatic.” she groaned and put her head against the table.

M’Baku stifled a smile as he rubbed her back.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?”

“Just a little headache, baby.”

“JJ, what do you say I take you to a gorilla nest?”

Monae’s head popped up immediately, “Is that safe?!”

“Yes, the ones we will visit are used to being around humans.”

“I don’t know, M’Baku-”

“Come with us, it will ease your mind.”

Monae took a deep breath then nodded before the kimoyo beads she had been gifted upon arrival started to make noise. “It’s Jazz, I’m gonna take this in my room.”

He nodded, knowing she needed to talk things out with her sister before she could make a decision.

When Monae made it to her room, she answered the call and Jazz’s voice filled the room.

“Heyyyyyy!”

“Why are you awake? It’s like midnight.”

“You know I’m a night owl. So what’s up? Your text sounded like you were freaking out.”

“I am freaking out.”

“Why? The sex not as good as you remember or something?”

“No it’s definitely not that...he wants us to stay.”

“Ok...and the problem is?”

“My life is in Nashville, you’re there, my job is there, my friends are there. JJ’s friends are there.”

“He’ll make new friends. And didn’t you tell me you worked with the queen? In Oakland...on the other side of the world from her kingdom...that she ruled...while working in Oakland?”

“Ugh yes, you sound like M’Baku.”

“You got a smart babydaddy. One that I’m sure wouldn’t mind me coming to visit. It’ll be just like when I was at NYU.”

“I know, but you just moved in and now I’m abandoning you-”

“Sis, you’re not abandoning me. I. Will. Be. Fine.”

Monae took a deep breath.

“So what’s with all the excuses?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Why all the excuses, Nae?”

“I just want to do what’s right for JJ, but I don’t know what that is. He likes both places equally. I don’t want to uproot him, but I also don’t want to keep him from M’Baku and his side of the family.”

“All I’m hearing is that you’re too scared to make the decision you want to make. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you hiding behind JJ as an excuse knowing damn well he’s going to be more than fine wherever y’all go?”

“I...damn. You’re right.” Monae had exhausted all her excuses and felt defeated. She really was the only thing standing in their way.

“Duh, so what are you gonna do about it?”

--------

The night before their departure, M’Baku and Monae did their usual routine of getting JJ ready for bed then retiring to his quarters for tea or something stronger.

This time was a little different though, despite the red wine poured into two glasses. Monae was usually much more talkative, but this time she seemed to be in another world.

“Is everything ok, my love?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About a lot of things, really. About JJ, work, my future...us.”

“What about us?”

“I know that being with you, I'd have certain responsibilities,” she paused as M’Baku nodded. “Like what?”

“Well I am not entirely sure. We are restructuring the way we run things here. I was gone for five years and the council had no problems stepping in and ruling in my absence. The flexibility will allow me to come to America more often to visit...I don’t think I can handle just seeing him for a couple months a year, but I can come to you.”

“Isn’t that against tradition?”

“Yes, but so is having a child out of wedlock and I do not see anyone complaining about that. In fact, the people love JJ...and you,” he grabbed her hand in his and intertwined their fingers.

“I’ve noticed,” Monae deadpanned, thinking back to all the questions about marriage the council threw her way. M’Baku chuckled as he read the frustration on her face.

“Tradition got thrown out the window as soon as the aliens arrived.”

“I bet,” Monae laughed before her face turned serious. “What was it like fighting aliens?”

“Terrifying. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw that day in battle,” he kissed her hand, “but the whole time I was praying to Hanuman that I could see your face again. When T’Challa told me how much time had passed, I was heartbroken. I just knew you had found somebody else...when you told me I had a son, my whole world changed. Now I have to raise my little boy in a world with terrifying aliens that I don’t understand and cannot explain to him.”

“I still can’t explain The Snap to him, maybe when he’s older I’ll have the words, but as for now I don't even understand it enough to answer him. He asked me the other day if you would get Dusted again...he’s worried about losing you and I can’t give him an answer because I’m worried about the same thing.”

“Is that what all this is about? Your hesitance?”

Monae burst into tears and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in closer.

“It-it’s just that it could happen again at any moment. What if you’re gone for another five years? What if you never come back if there’s a next time?”

“Monae, it is over. The Titan is dead, the stones are gone, the gauntlet is gone...there will be no more Snaps. I cannot promise that something else equally preposterous will not happen instead, but that worry is gone now.”

She crawled into his lap and curled up into a ball as he stroked her back.

“So...no more aliens?”

“I cannot promise that...just no more Snaps.”

She nodded and rested her head in the crook of his neck, breathing him in and relaxing more with each inhale of his scent.

She let out a sigh.

“Is something wrong, my love?”

“I just remembered we leave tomorrow.”

“Yes, I have been trying not to think about it.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know...but I won’t miss you long.”

M’Baku deflated.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she sat up and looked him in his sad eyes, “that it’s not fair for JJ to bounce between us. He needs a home that’s not split in half, and there’s more for him here than back in Nashville.”

“You are saying-”

“That we’re gonna go home tomorrow, pack our things, then come back in a week.”

A slow smile spread across M’Baku’s face as a tear came to his eye. Monae wiped it away as he kissed her all over her face before pulling back and staring into her eyes.

“I know you are coming back for JJ’s sake, but what does this mean for us?”

“It means that although JJ comes first, and is the main reason for this move...I can’t say that being closer to you had nothing to do with it. I’ve been alone for five years, I don’t want to be without you again.”

“I am sorry that I left you, Monae.”

“You had no choice, don’t be sorry.”

“I just hate that I missed out on so much. Pictures aren’t enough.”

“You’re here now. Yes you missed his birth and his first steps, but you’ll teach him how to shave and how to be a Jabari warrior. There will still be plenty of wounds to kiss and make better, baby. Plenty more ‘firsts’.”

“Mm. Would you ever consider having another child?”

“My answer used to be ‘hell no’, but that was before you came back. I could consider it...I think JJ would make a great big brother...maybe in another year or two?”

M’Baku’s smile was wider than ever and his eyes twinkled in the light as he looked at her, studying her features. Her big doe eyes always gave her emotions away, even behind her thick tortoiseshell frames. She had laid her heart out on the table for him and he almost couldn’t believe how quickly she seemed to change her mind. He wasn’t sure exactly how their conversation went, but he knew he had Jazz to thank for this.

“That sounds perfect.”

The two of them stayed up all night discussing their future, emptying the bottle of wine around midnight, and falling asleep on the couch shortly after. The next morning, Monae was awakened by the sound of JJ knocking on the door. She opened her eyes to see they had somehow made it to the bed and smiled picturing him carrying her while she slept peacefully in his arms. M’Baku stirred next to her and stretched as she got up to answer the door.

“What’s up baby?” she asked him, still groggy and voice cracking as she adjusted M’Baku’s t-shirt she was sleeping in...that she also did not have on when she fell asleep.

“I’m hungry, it’s late.”

Monae looked at the time and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, “How is it already 10:30?!”

M’Baku made breakfast again while Monae rushed to get herself and their son ready for their trip. When JJ started folding his clothes to pack in his suitcase, Monae stopped him, having forgotten that he didn’t know the plan yet. She noticed he was moving slow and looked a little sad.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m gonna miss it here.”

“You like being with your baba?”

He sniffled and a tear rolled down his cheek. It was at that moment that she knew she had made the right decision.

“JJ...honey...mommy and baba have something to tell you,” she looked to M’Baku right as he walked in the door, filling the entire frame with his body. He sat on the bed on the other side of JJ and pulled him into his lap while Monae grabbed his little hands in hers.

“What is it?” he sniffled again as M’Baku wiped his tears.

“We’re going home today, but we’re coming back...we’re gonna move here to be with baba.”

JJ’s face lit up and he stopped crying. “Really?!”

“Yes, really,” M’Baku chuckled as he tickled his son, making his infectious laughter ring out once again.

“But what about Auntie Jazz?”

“It’ll be just like before, we can go visit her or she can come visit here.”

“But I thought you didn’t like the cold?”

Monae sighed as M’Baku stifled a laugh. “I don’t, but a Jabari man stole my heart and we made a little Jabari that belongs in the mountains with his people. I’ll adjust.”

“So...we’re really moving?” The hopeful look on his face made both his parents smile.

“Yes,” she laughed, “we’re really moving.”

“I have to tell Hasina and Hasani!” he jetted off to find his beads. They were programmed without most of the normal features so that he and his cousins could talk anytime they wanted to, and sure enough he immediately spilled the beans to the twins despite the fact that they would be seeing each other in an hour’s time. As they chatted, Monae and M’Baku grabbed the few things they would actually need for the week they would be gone and in no time flat, they were ready to go.

“Is that everything?” M’Baku asked as the family of three travelled to the small jet that would take them down to the palace. It was a gloomy, overcast day and the two parents tried to not let it affect their moods as JJ said goodbye to his grandma. Neither wanted to say goodbye, even though they both knew it was temporary. Any time apart felt like a lifetime.

“I think so, but we’ll be back so it’s fine.”

“I love hearing you say that,” he leaned in and kissed her.

They arrived at the palace and they were greeted by the royal family again, minus N’Jadaka who had gone back to Oakland a few days ago.

The cousins immediately gravitated towards each other and started chatting away as the adults did the same.

“We heard from a couple little birdies that you’re moving here. What changed?” Nakia asked.

“I had to be sure...but I’m sure now.”

“Well dear, it seems you have made the right choice,” Ramonda motioned behind them and the two of them turned around to see the three kids play fighting. “I know M’Baku must be happier than a hippo in the Nile.”

“He is,” she beamed, “and honestly I am too. I was scared, but it’s like as soon as I said ‘I’ll stay’ my worries just disappeared. I knew it was the right thing to do.”

M’Baku, Shuri, and T’Challa joined them and the two men put their arms around their loves.

“Are you ready?” M’Baku whispered to her.

“Yes,” she giggled at his breath tickling her ear.

“Enough of that, she’ll be back in a week,” Shuri playfully ribbed them and everyone laughed.

“But that is so long-“

“Five years, M’Baku.”

He conceded with a kiss and the group meandered towards the jet where Okoye and Ayo already awaited them.

Monae and JJ turned and said their goodbyes, leaving M’Baku for last.

He knelt down to JJ’s level and pulled something from his pocket before placing it around JJ’s neck. It was a wood bead necklace with a small hand-carved gorilla pendant.

“It’s just like yours!”

“That is right, igorila encinci.”

JJ threw his arms around M’Baku’s neck and M’Baku hugged him tight.

“I love you, baba.”

“I love you too, Jabari.” he held him close and a tear almost came to his eye at hearing those words for the very first time.

“Do you love mommy?”

Both parents smiled as M’Baku stood to his full height, carrying a giggling JJ with him.

“I love you and your mommy more than anything else in this world,” he said, looking into her eyes. He leaned in for a chaste kiss and she obliged, making JJ giggle at their display before Monae reached out and started tickling him, really giving him something to laugh about.

“We’ll see you in a week?”

“I will be here,” he kissed both of their foreheads before they walked up the stairs and onto the ship.

T’Challa and Shuri came up on either side of M’Baku as he waved at them before the Talon shimmered out of view as it went through the dome. He let out a sigh and everyone could see the dopey smile lingering on his face.

“Someone’s happy,” Shuri nudged him in his side and it broke him from his daze.

“Very.” He turned to the king, “Thank you.”

“For the ship? It is no problem, really-”

“No, for sending me to Oakland. I hated the idea of going, but I never would have met Monae otherwise...so thank you for not letting me talk you out of it.”

“You were never going to talk me out of it...but you’re welcome.”

T’Challa clapped M’Baku on the shoulder as he turned to go inside with the rest of the family.

“You coming?” Shuri asked M’Baku.

“In just a moment.”

She nodded and followed behind her brother, leaving M’Baku alone, staring up at the sky.

“Hanuman, Ancestors,” he started, “thank you for blessing me with the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. Thank you for allowing me to be in my child’s life. Thank you for leading me to Monae, and thank you for her choosing me over Damon. I have no words to express the depths of my gratitude, thank you just does not seem like enough...but that is all I have right now, so thank you, thank you, thank you. Please, keep them safe on this journey and bring them back to me.”

Just then, the clouds moved out of the way and the sun poked through for the first time all day.

“Glory to Hanuman,” M’Baku praised before he turned and walked back into the palace with a huge, goofy smile on his face, content in knowing his family would return to him soon.

The end.

Taglist: @devnicolee, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #black!oc #m'baku #m’baku’s love #m’baku x oc

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chromium7sky · 3 years

Text

The Devil wears Armani | chapter 12

A/n: I'm really sorry for the long hiatus of this au 😭. Finally got some spark about this update and I hope you guys enjoy it. Btw, guess who finally meet Raven? 😆😆

Raven finally reached her home after outing and small reunion with Karen. She remove her heels awkwardly as she yawned. It was a long night.

She tell Karen everything about what happen between her and Damian and of course minus the intimacy in his office.

-flash back-

Karen land her chin on her palm propped on the table as she listen to Raven's story. "You know, this is an interesting story though but did he knew about Melchior?"

Raven narrowed her eyes. " Why would I mention that jerk? Besides me and Damian still haven't declare about our relationship, I mean, he does flirt me back. Not to mention we did kiss..." Raven stop at the kissing part.

"Men can be complicated sometimes." She sighed as she take a bite from the cake she ordered.

"Couldn't agree more since I'm about to marry one." Karen wiggle her fingers that had betrothed ring on it.

Both designer and ex model giggled.

"I...I just hope Damian is serious about it. I'm quite invested my feeling for him." Raven chewed her lips.

"I hope so, Rachel. I hope he does." Karen smiled.

- end flashback-

Raven sighed on her bed after she change her clothes into night gown. "Gotta get some sleep because I'm going to meet him tomorrow. Should I ask again about us?"

Raven's mind wander about the golden question, her eyes start to droop as the cold night beckons her to the land of morpheus.

--------

Damian watched the E! Entertainment as he tidy up his studio to catch up any news on fashion industry then the anchorman, Josh Dirkmann said about a known designer from Europe came to town known as Melchior Draco.

"Melchior?" Damian arched his brows. Another designer in town? Maybe there's an event? And as soon as the reporter had some short interview with the silver hair gentlemen with black suit.

"So what makes you come to Gotham?" The reporter pointed the mic towards the designer.

"Well, a big company invited me to launched both of our collaboration and they said Gotham fit the aesthetic." He answered as he tug his silver hair behind his ears which earn a sneer from Damian as he watch the interview.

"Do you know Raven the designer?"

" Oh, yes. We did compete each other in Paris Fashion Show. She won first while I won second. It was a tough decision for the judges. Just so you know, between you and me, we kinda close during that time." Melchior slip out some interesting info towards the reporter.

The reporter almost gasped and demand for more answer but Melchior quickly waved away and walked towards the hotel lobby.

Damian quickly grab the remote control and closed the show.

" What do you mean close each other?" Both of his eyebrows knitted together. He closed his eyes and throw the remote at the couch. "It doesn't matter."

-------

Raven now in mess. The phone call came in nonstop just because of a statement when Melchior mention that both of them were close and the paparazzi possible sniffing out a scandal.

She sighed and landed her head on her desk. A hard knocking landed on her door makes her jolted. " Come in." As she turn her head towards the door.

Mona came in a hurry with an apologetic face. " Miss Rachel, I forgot to inform you that there will be a journalist came for your gala interview today. I'm really really sorry." Mona bow her head.

Raven stare blankly at Mona while her internal having conflict. 'First it's was Melchior statement and now interview? What...what should I do?'

Her palm start to sweat but quickly she fist up her hand. " When will be the journalist comes?"

The assistant girl check through her tablet. " In two hours."

"Who from where?"

"Jonathan Kent from Daily Planet, ma'am."

"Oh?" The same journalist who interview her winning success in fashion show. " Well, make sure escort him to my office and prepare our boarding room. Easier to execute it in there." Raven gives a stern order.

Mona nodded her head vigorously then quickly exit her room.

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

She straighten her back as she heard a knock. She breath in. "Come in."

"Ms. Rachel!"

"Mona."

"A journalist came to meet you for Wayne's Gala interview." She gesture her hands towards a young man with curly hair and those prominent square glasses. "Mr. Jonathan Kent."

"Ah, Jonathan. Hi! It's been a while." Raven stretch her hand towards him.

Jon adjust his specs then handshake with her. "Thank you for letting me interview again , Ms. Roth." His face display his friendliness towards her.

Mona bowed her heads and quickly went out of her office. "How about we bring this interview to boarding room? More comfy?" Raven suggest about changing place.

"Yeah, you're right." Jon nodded.

Raven stood up and escort Jon to the meeting room for more proper place to interview.

She open the light switch and pull out a chair. " You can sit here."

"Ah, right, thank you." Jon smiled sheepishly as he pull the leather chair and sit, opposite with the owner of AMZ company.

" So, how long does this interview lasting?" Raven asked him as soon as she's in her seat and lean on the table with both of her hands propped on her chin.

"Well, not long, more or less 10 minutes." The journalist smile sheepishly. "Anyway..." He pull out his notebook, voice recording and a pen."Let us start with, how long you know Damian Wayne?"

"Well...since I was freshly involved in this industry, Mr Wayne offered me to promote myself at Gala." Raven calmly answer as she tried to cover Damian from being involve with fashion drawing class back in those days.

Jon then stopped the voice recording which made her jolted then adjust his specs. "You are the one who have the same class with him right?"

Raven almost gasped but she quickly act nonchalant as she tried to deny it . "Are you try to dig something from me, Mr Kent?"

"Ah, yes. Such as wanted to know more about Dami's secret girl." He smiled.

Dami? Her eyebrow arched as she heard the name. Why in the world he would address Damian that way? "You must be mistaking. We were only in term of business."

"Seriously? I thought you guys were serious." He's moping. "He did ask me about how to flirt a girl too. Man, he's really an emotional constipated." He laughed. "Besides, Dami said he haven't meet her in 3 years after he's graduated."

Raven with her eyes wide as she heard it from him. "HOW DID YOU KNOW ALL THAT?!" She quickly rised from the desk.

Jon jolted as he seen her reaction. " Ah, I guess that's why he keep a secret about his girl." Sweat drop start to rolled down on his forehead. "I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. Let me introduce myself again."

Jon straighten his back and stretch his hand. "Hi, I'm Jonathan Kent. Dami' s childhood friend and school mate, same goes with roommate at uni and currently, a journalist." He smiled.

Raven tried to process all the information at once and it takes a few moment. "So, you are Damian's close friend?" She point out with as she narrowed her eyes.

"That's right!" Jon's smile getting wider.

"Ah, hello." She slowly put her hands on him which Jon grab it and makes a several shake as he excited to met her.

"It's really pleasure to meet you by the way! For sure if Maya and Colin knew about you they will be screaming or teasing him saying Dami has finally grown up!" He laughed.

Raven sit on her chair with unsure feeling. First the confession, then his childhood friend meet her, and then what? A wedding? She press her lips into a thin line.

"You know, Dami is not that kind of guy when it comes to women. He always thought they were hyenas." Jon chuckled.

"Hyenas?" Raven puzzled. "What's with hyenas?"

"Ever since he lives in Gotham, he always seen his father been in and out with other women who prey for money. Still, poor him having lack of parent's love." Jon sighed.

That explain why he's being hard on anyone. Raven attentively listen to Jon's story. "You know, he has pets like a zoo at his house. From cow to snakes. I remember when I came, This Alfred the cat always sulking and threaten to scratch me."

"An animal lover? That much?" Both of Raven's eyebrow jumpy as she heard it. She could imagine if Damian standing on the field, as birds will land on him, it either makes him look like Disney princess or a scarecrow.

"Most of them are animal rescue." Jon nodded.

"I see..." Then Raven suddenly remember something. "How did Damian took fashion drawing class by the way?"

"Actually we suggested to him. I mean seriously, you haven't seen his potrait and figure drawing, Those are amazing! He most likely to observe the surrounding and draw on his sketch book while on his free time."

Wait. Does that means Damian has a secret sketch book like her? Raven unconsciously put her hands on her lips.

"Still, what makes you suspect it was me? I mean we haven't contact it for a while."

"Other than he told me that he haven't met her in three years, I've seen a drawing that looks just like you at his studio." Jon smiled.

There it is.

Raven sighed and there's a slightly red tint on her ears.

"Why you haven't contact him when he's in middle east?" Jon asked curious question.

"It was because when I know that he's Damian Wayne, I..I was screwed. I mean, Wayne as in Wayne Enterprise. The biggest contributor on east side. Me? I'm just, just an orphan girl who try to rise my own feet."

"Oh?"

"My mother died when I was 14. I still don't know who were my father is and all I got is this necklace from my mother." She showed the necklace to Jon.

The young journalist seems to be fasinating with it's design. "I wonder where did your mother got this?"

Raven sighed as she try to remember. " I'm not sure. All I remember that it's been in heritage for years."

"I see." Jon rubbed his chin. "Well, Maybe you should hang up with us sometimes. I'm sure Colin and Maya would love to see you." He smiled.

"The thing is, Jon. I'm still unclear about between us." Raven chewed her lips.

"Ah nonsense, he really likes you. I can see from the way he look at you."

"Is it? Wait, where did you saw him see me?"

"I think it was two day before?"

Raven slap both of her cheeks. OH MY GOD, HE SAW BOTH OF US KISSING.

"And don't worry. I won't tell a soul, though, I've been warn by him and probably will be dig out by Colin and Maya." Jon widen his smile as sweat start to rolled down on his cheek."Dami has been my friend of more than a decade. I understand the way he express himself."

Raven nodded slowly. " Jon, a question."

"Yeah?"

"Since you are a journalist, do you know anything about Melchior?" Raven voice change to serious tone.

"That Silver Blond guy?"

"Yeah."

" I heard he's having collaboration with a big company. However, another speculation I heard that he choose Gotham because of its mysterious aesthetic."

"Well, uh, there's something I heard during interview. He claimed that we were close during the fashion show competition."

Raven as stared at the desk.

"Been wondering myself too. Are you close to him?" Jon's curious eyes start to lit.

"We do only for a while but the thing is he stole my design during that time which I never forgive myself for letting me get fooled by him." Raven sighed then she looked at Jon. "Wait. Don't tell me you're going to put this on paper?"

"Wait, I get it." Jon again propped his hand on his chin. "No wonder I've seen familiarity design between both of you. Plus you're having a hard time too."

"Uh, Jon?"

"I think I found something to investigate." Jon's mischievous smiles start to paint on his face.

"Now you act like Damian."

"Damian is more hardcore. I'm still on the average level." Jon beamed his happy face on her.

"Well, I think our interview stopped here. Besides, I need to cover some story from Me Wayne itself about the gala."

"Dami?"

"Yep."

"So, nice to meet you, Ms. Rachel Roth. It's been a pleasure talking to you."

"It's been a pleasure to spill tea with you." Raven smug.

Jon blinked then put on his mischievous smile.

-------

Somewhere in his office, Damian sneezed for no reason. " Is it me or is this office are getting colder?" He looked at the air ventilation.

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blackhakumen · 3 years

Text

Mini Fanfic #800: Starting the New Vacation Day (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

10:12 a.m. at Isle Defino's Patio.......

Dark Pit: (Slams hie Hands On the Table) ('SLAM') Alright, dumbasses. Any of you got any ideas on what we're gonna do here today?

Pit: There's so many places to choose from.....I'm not even sure where go to first.

Yoshi: I spotted this cool looking ramen shop a few blocks from here. Maybe we can go there for lunch later.

Ryuji: (Smiles Softly) I'm down. Their ramen might be good. Maybe even better than Min-Min's.

Elsewhere in Isle Defino.....

Min-Min: (Let's Out a Sudden Sneeze) ('Chu')

Capt. Falcon: You alright there, Min?

Min-Min: (Quick Turns to Falcon) Oh. Uh yeah. I'm fine, Captain. I could've sworn felt a distrubence just now.....

Capt. Falcon: (Shrugs) Eh. Probably just the heat weather.

Min-Min: Maybe..........

Back to the Patio.....

Dark Pit: That's one place down. Anything else?

Yusuke: I, for one, plan on going to the beach side of this island to begin my new creation thoroughly.

Ryuji: (Gives Yusuke a Bit of a Playful Smirk on his Face) Gonna find more crabs to draw, my man?

Yusuke: Not quite I'm afraid. I am more interested in finding unique and rare forms of seashells if anything. (Turns to Tails) And it seems I might need your mechanic assistance on this, Tails.

Tails: (Smiles a Bit Sheepishly at the Inspired Young Artist) I....didn't really bring my tools here with me. So I can't really help you on a mechanical level. But I can buy you a metal detector if you want.

Yusuke: (Smiles Softly) That sounds like a good enough comparison. Many thanks, my two tailed friend.

Tails: (Giggles Softly While Blushing a Little) No problem, Yusuke.

???: Morning, peeps.

Ryuji: Hey, morning bro- (Eyes Suddenly Widened For a Brief Second Before Snickering at the Sight of Making his Way to the Table With Red Kiss Marks on his Face) Dude, is that really you?

Ren: (Seats Himself Down) In the flesh.

Dark Pit: (Sighs While Pinching his Nose) Alright. I'll bite. (Turns to Ren) Why are you covered in kiss marks?

Ren: Oh. Well, Makoto and I found out that today's Kiss Day earlier thos morning. So Makoto decided to pull on the red lipstick Ann brought her for her birthday a few months ago, and started kissing my face. (Smirks Softly at the Memory) Loved every minute of it too~

Pit: And you still have kiss marks on you.....why exactly?

Ren: (Shrugs) Eh. No real reason really. Just felt it showing it to the world a bit longer, you know? (Noticed the Gang is Staring at Him) What?

Yoshi: You know what we're gonna ask you now, right?

Everyone: WHY AREN'T YOU TWO MARRIED YET!!?

Ren: Hey! Come on! We will! Just in the near future, alright? We JUST graduated high school together.

Pit: I still wanna be a Ring Bearer!!

?????: Who's wedding are we talking about again?

Tails: (Turns and Sighs Once He Sees Sonic Sitting Next to Him With Having Pink Kiss Marks All Around his Face) Let me guess: Amy found out today's Kiss Day and kissed you like crazy?

Sonic: Yup. Mom and pa blurted it out on our double date yesterday and the rest was history.

Tails: (Smirks at Sonic Playfully) You enjoyed minute of it, didn't you?~

Sonic: (Sighs While Blushing) Yeah......(Smiles a Little While Slouching his Head Down a Little) That girl sure knows how to kiss a guy, you know?~

Tails: (Chuckles Lightly) I believe so, Mr. Lover Boy~

Sonic: Keep making fun of me and it'll be your turn soon enough, Tails (Starts Smirking Playfully Himself) And with a certain bandicoot girl nonetheless~

Tails: (Already Has a Deadpinned Look on his Face) How many times do I have to keep telling you people that we're JUST FRIENDS? There's no way Coco and I would ever participate in something like that.

Sonic: Okay....(Smirk Starts Growing a Bit Wider) But why did you let her kiss you under the mistletoe though?~

Tails: (Eyes Widened in Complete Shock) H-How did you.....

Sonic: Wave told Amy and I all about it when it all happened. (Gives Tails a Thumbs Up) And we already approved~

Tails: (Immediately Turns Away From Sonic While Blushing) S-Shut Up......

Morgana: (Sighs While Sitting Down on The Group's Table With Multi Color Kiss Marks (Pink, Blue, and Green) All Over His Face) Morning......

Ren: (Starts Snickering at Morgana Along With Ryuji and Pit) Damn, Mona. You too?

Morgana: Yeah. Me too. Once Futuba found out that today was Kiss Day, she SOMEHOW convinced Haru and Lavenza to kiss me. With different Lipstick colors!!

Ryuji: (Still Snickering) C'mon, cat. Look on the bright side. At least one of your kissers was a certain Velvet girl you've been crushing on~

Ren: (Teasingly Nodded in Agreement)

Morgana: (Glares at Ryuji) .......Ryuji. One of these days when I become human again and grow older, I will do everything in my power to suplex you into the ground.

Ryuji: (Chuckles Lightly) Cute threat, Mona, but uh...(Hold Both of his Arms Up While Showing Off his Muscles) ('Heh') I got bit stronger as of late. So might it take you a lot years before you even lift a finger on me, you know?

Morgana: ('Sighs in Defeat') Crap. You're right. It'll be too long if I waited.....Oh well. When all else fails, I can always kick you in shins.

Ryuji: (Glares at Morgana) Do it and I'll chase you to end the Earth, cat.

Morgana: (Glares at Ryuji) Wanna bet?

Ryuji: If you're up for it!

Dark Pit: Calm your asses down already. We still haven't decided what the first thing we should do here-

With the sound of two girls giggling with one another, the gang turns to see Ann and Shiho making their way to the table together while having kiss marks on each of their faces.

Ryuji: Geez....Even Ann and Shiho got into the holiday.....

Ren: Right?

Ann: Hey, guys. (Sit Herself Down Next to Shiho While Giggling Softly)) You're probably wondering why we're-

Ren: You two found out about Kiss Day is today. So it led to the both of you making out. Am I right?

Shiho: Wait. How did you- (Starts Snickering Once She Noticed the Kiss Marks on his Face) Did Makoto seriously kiss all over your face?~

Ren: (Smirks Proudly) Yep! It might be the most cutest thing she done so far~ Don't tell her I said that by the way.

Ann: ('Sigh') You know, Ren, it astounds me that you two have been acting like a married couple since since day one and yet neither of you STILL have proposal to one another yet!

Ren: Um. Does "We just graduated" doesn't ring you any bells, Takamaki? And besides, if anything, I'm surprised YOU TWO having proposal to one another yet. You already have apartment together and give each other pet names. Might as start now while you're ahead.

Ann: Oh trust me. Shiho and I WILL marry each other very soon and you are gonna be our best man.

Ren: (Eyes Widened a Little in Genuine Surprise) Oh shit. Really?

Ann: (Giggles Softly) Yes. Really. You're one of my best friends, Ren. I can't think of anyone else to fit that role better than you. Well, I mean, there's Ryuji, but.... I'm not sure if could take up the role that well. (Turns to Ryuji) No offense.

Ryuji: Eh. It's no problem. (Smiles Brightly at Ren) I totally see Ren being Best Man material lot more than I could.

Ren: Huh. Well, if that's really what you girls want....(Smiles Softly) I'd be happy to be your future Best Man.

Ann: (Squeals Happily While Pulling Ren into a Loving Hug) Thank you so much, Ren-Ren!~

Shiho: (Happily Joins into the Hug) You have no idea how happy you made us-

Pit: (Suddenly Slams the Table With Excitement) ('SLAM') I GOT IT!

Dark Pit: (Turns to Pit Along With Everyone Else) What is it, Pit-Stain?

Pit: I just thought of something we could do first! Souvenir shopping!

'Silence'

'Wave Sounds'

Yoshi: You.....got any ideas, Pit?

Pit: (Happily Nodded) Yep! We can go souvenir shopping together. All this talk about Kiss Day has really made me miss Viridi a lot more than before. (Smiles Brightly) So I wanna buy her souvenir gift we could enjoy, you know?

Ann: Awwwww~ Pit~ Of course we can go souvenir shopping together.

Shiho: (Smiles Softly) We can even help you pick something nice for her and everything.

Sonic: You ladies mind helping my little bro with that too. (Smirks Teasingly Again) He has a Bandicoot Girl back home to impress~

Tails: (Glares at Sonic While Blushing Again) D-Don't you ever shut up anymore, Sonic!? And besides, I already promised Yusuke that I would buy him that metal detector!

Yusuke: (Gives Tails a Reassuring Smile) Oh there's really no need for you to go to the trouble to buy it for me. I believe you should use it give your lady friend something nice.

Sonic: See? Yusuke's gets it.

Tails: ('Sighs in Defeat') Fine..... I'll buy her a souvenir. But NOT because I have a crush! She's my best friend and nothing more.

Sonic: Whatever you say, lil' bro.

Ryuji: (Turns to Morgana) Hey, Mona, maybe you should try souvenir shopping too. (Starts Smirking Again) Maybe something nice your Velvet girl~

Morgana: (Eye Starts Twitching Before Turning to Ren) Seriously. Can I PLEASE kick his shins already!?

Ren: No.

Ann: Be nice to Ryuji, Mona.

Mona: ('Ugh') Fine......

Yoshi: (Turns to Dark Pit) We should give it a shot, DP. You could buy something nice for your girlfriends back home.

Dark Pit: I don't know....There might be a possibility that they won't it.

Yoshi: Ah don't be like that. I'm sure they'll love anything you get for them. Even if isn't fancy like or whatever.

Dark Pit: Wait. How much souvenirs usually cost exactly?

Yoshi: (Shrugs) I dunno. Five to ten bucks maybe?

Dark Pit: (Shrugs as Well) Eh. Fuck it. I'm down.

Pit: Alright! All in favor of Souvenir Shopping say 'AYE'!

Everyone: 'AYE'

Happy Kiss! (Again!)

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@princekirijo

@26shann

@cyber-wildcat

@ma-lemons

@albion-93

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aloysiavirgata · 4 years

Text

In The Gale

Title: In The Gale

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: PG

Category: MSR

Author's Notes: For @perplexistan, who asked and helped me make it better. This is shortly after settling into the Unremarkable House. I tried making sense of their legal status, but it’s simply impossible and I gave up.

Our heroes quote from Melville, Shakespeare, Sagan, Baudrillard, and (Emily) Dickens.

***

Because I know that time is always time And place is always and only place And what is actual is actual only for one time And only for one place I rejoice that things are as they are and I renounce the blessed face And renounce the voice Because I cannot hope to turn again Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us And pray that I may forget These matters that with myself I too much discuss Too much explain Because I do not hope to turn again Let these words answer For what is done, not to be done again May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly But merely vans to beat the air The air which is now thoroughly small and dry Smaller and dryer than the will Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.

T.S. Eliot, Ash Wednesday

***

She recites The Raven to herself on the drive in, lists all the state capitals in alphabetical order, and goes through the periodic table. Her body fizzes like a shaken soda, tiny anxious bubbles rising through her blood. They’ve done so much for this, called in so many favors. Mulder put his book on hold for a month, quizzing her with dog-eared notecards.

“Immediate treatment of myocardial infarction,” he’d call, and she’d say “MONA TASS.”

She feels a pang for the simplicity of the other life, the hiding one, where she just had to ring up cigarettes and herbal Viagra at gas stations.

***

She’s the new girl at the cafeteria table, awkward and alone. Mulder had prepared her a lunch like it’s the first day of school, and she stares at it, wishing for an appetite.

From the corner of her eye she sees two colleagues - an MRI tech and an obstetrician, she thinks - talking softly and glancing over. Scully thinks she hears “FBI,” and she looks up and smiles, uncertain.

They blink at her, look away.

***

Ybarra comes around the corner, gliding in his cassock like a disapproving ghost. “Dr. Scully,” he says, in his pinched voice.

She smiles thinly. “Father Ybarra.”

“Nurse Mossing was looking for the chart for Mrs. Sullivan. Imagine my surprise when I found it in Room 314 instead of Room 413. That’s a potential HIPAA violation, Dr. Scully. That’s a federal law.”

Scully curls her hand so that her nails dig into her skin. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “Father Ybarra, please forg-”

He holds up his palm. “It won’t happen again,” he says, and glides onward.

Scully closes her eyes and leans against the wall. She breathes through her nose until the ringing in her ears stops.

***

She wants to collapse into his arms and cry when she gets home, but that would be giving in. It would be letting them down.

“How’d it go?” he asks. He’s wearing basketball shorts and a Knicks shirt, a five o’clock shadow.

She smiles brightly. “It was good. Learning curve, but good. I think Father Ybarra might be a tough nut to crack, is all.”

Mulder rubs his cowlicked hair. “Put your feet up, Scully, since you won’t wear sensible shoes.”

She does, and accepts the glass of wine he holds out. “Thanks. I’ll sleep well tonight, anyway. There are miles of hallways.”

He sits next to her on the couch. “I wrote a few pages,” he says. “I deleted a bunch, but I think there was a multi-paragraph net gain.”

“I’m glad you’re able to stop focusing on my stuff now,” she says. “Both back in the saddle.”

“Go team.”

She clinks her glass against his. She drinks her wine too fast.

***

Ybarra had come in during her rounds that morning and startled her into knocking a metal bedpan onto the floor. Scully thinks the reverberations of that sound will follow her to the grave.

She’s now in the chapel, tucked into a back pew. She’s been staring at the small altar, at the stained glass windows flanking the crucifix. The Blessed Virgin smiles beatifically down at her, a wretched sinner.

Scully laces her fingers on the back of the pew in front of her and bows her head against them. “Please,” she whispers. “Please.”

***

Mulder wakes her with tea and eggs. “You haven’t been eating,” he says, brow furrowed.

She rubs her eyes, yawning. “What?”

He sits next to her on the bed, sets the plate and mug on her night table. “You just push your food around your plate, you hardly talk when you get home. What’s going on, Scully?”

She sits up, looking at his worried face. He’s sun-browned and tousled, beautiful, with a mouth that still makes her weak in the knees. “Nothing. It’s just a lot to jump back into.”

“I’m sure it is. And I still want to help you with it.” He pulls the flash cards from his pocket, touches her wrist with his other hand. “Let’s see - causes of upper zone pulmonary fibrosis?”

She looks at the ceiling, back at him. “I don’t need help.”

Mulder blinks, stung.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. You just don’t need to hover over me. You have your own things to work on. Work on your book, patch up your henhouse. ” Her voice sounds snappish to her own ears.

His changeable eyes, now mossy green, darken. He chews his bottom lip, nodding slowly. “I thought you were one of my ‘things.’ Sorry to bother you.” He rises, walks downstairs.

“Mulder,” she whispers.

The tea goes down fine. Scully tries to eat the eggs but feels bile rise in her throat. She flushes them down the toilet instead of leaving them behind, because that is love.

***

She arrives at the nurses’ station on the second floor with three dozen donuts and two cardboard boxes of coffee. She deposits them on the desk. “Good morning, Annabel,” she says.

“Anneliese,” the woman says.

Scully nods, walks away.

***

He slides his hand up her pajama top, tracing circles on her ribs, sliding his fingers around to her breasts. He kisses the back of her neck. “Scully,” he whispers, his breath warm and ticklish in her ear.

She wants to pretend to wake up, to turn towards him and lose herself in his body. She wants to tell him everything, to be held and loved and petted and reassured. She wants him to remind her that she once stared down Congress, that some backwater priest and his prickly staff should be a joke to her. She wants them to laugh together at these silly, petty people.

But she can’t, she can’t disappoint him. He’s been so proud of her.

Scully stays still, breathes evenly until his hands move away and she’s alone again.

***

Her car rattles over the driveway, through shimmering waves of heat that rise from the crisping grass. It is the kind of late July afternoon where the sun is a hazy white ball in the west, and clouds of gnats are a permanent feature of the landscape.

Scully parks, avoiding a puddle in which a peacock is standing. Mulder has recently become enamored of yard fowl. She narrows her eyes at it while opening the car door.

“Good boy, Kevin,” she calls to it, wary.

Scully picks her way over the gravel in her thin heels. The peacock mews an alarm as she approaches, but doesn’t charge. She lets herself inside, shuts the heat and sun and wildlife outside. The house smells of coffee and microwave popcorn.

She walks into Mulder’s office and finds him hunched at his desk, typing. “Hey,” she says, and drops a kiss on his head. There’s a sketch of Baphomet taped to his monitor, her worn flash cards atop a tome about Raëlism.

He turns in his chair. He puts his arms around her hips. “Hey.”

“Kevin behaved himself,” she offers.

“You two will be friends yet, you’ll see.”

She peers at the computer. “You get a lot done today?”

Mulder shrugs. “Eh, a bit. Waiting on a few emails, and I had to run that tubing to drain the sump down into the woods. Ate up most of the afternoon.”

Scully shakes her head in admiration. “I don’t know how you manage all the multitasking.”

“Well, the book helps me avoid the house, and the house helps me avoid the book. It’s a perfect system. That Ybarra guy still riding your ass?”

She chews her lip. “No,” she lies. “I think we’re okay now.”

“Good,” he says. “I’d hate to have to beat up a priest.”

***

Scully gazes at herself in the empty locker room. She looks thin and tired, and her hair is frizzing up, even pulled back like this. All her makeup has sweated off except for smudged crescents of mascara. Her bra is the color of a Band-Aid, her underwear white and sensible. Between the two is the hard white rose of her gunshot scar, like a second navel, an artifact of a second birth. It is numb when she touches it, indifferent. There are no stretch marks from William, a tale missing from the anthology of her skin. She unhooks her bra, lets it slide down to the damp floor. Scully turns to observe her body in profile. The scar is gone this way, the tattoo hidden as well, and she smooths her hands along her ribs. Her breasts seem out of place to her when they are unbound, frivolous somehow. Vestigial.

She looks away.

***

The hospital is labyrinthine, having been constructed of various additions when funds allowed. There are dead ends, pointless staircases, and a mysterious storage closet filled with old televisions. She makes little maps on notepaper.

“So where did you work before this?” an orthopedic surgeon asks her.

A diner in Wyoming.

“I was out West for a while,” she says.

***

A week in, and Mulder has made a cake to celebrate. A bouquet of Kevin’s shed tail feathers ornaments the table.

An offering, Mulder calls it, tickling her chin with one.

A week down, she thinks, and blows out the candle. She wonders when she’ll stop counting the time.

***

Shy, he gives her a chapter to read. It’s good, and she tells him so. It’s very good. She hears his voice in her head when she reads it, his passion. She loves the esoterica tucked into his gyri and sulci.

“Your prose was never this clear in your reports,” she remarks.

“Hey if you can’t blind them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.”

Scully laughs. “You want to read a few medical reports?”

He looks at her, suddenly serious. “Yeah,” he says. “I would. It would be nice to hear about your day for once.”

She wonders if love is the weapon that lets them wound so casually.

***

“You’re late,” Ybarra says softly.

She doesn’t explain that she’d somehow ended up at the TV closet again, that the room numbering system in this hospital had been designed by nihilists, that the nursing student had Dermabonded her glove to a patient’s forehead.

She lowers her eyes like she did at Catholic school. She promises to do better.

***

“What’s going on?” Mulder asks her for what feels like the hundredth time. “Talk to me, Scully.”

She presses her hands to her face for a moment, drops them to her sides. “Nothing,” she says again, frustrating them both. “I’m tired. It’s a hard schedule.”

He places a throw pillow on his lap and pats it. “Come here,” he says. “Please.”

She acquiesces, curling on her side with her back to him. He runs his fingers through her hair, traces the Fibonacci spirals of her ear. She wants to relax, to melt into his touch. She indulges in a Mulderesque conspiracy theory that the hospital microdoses the water with tetanus toxin to keep everyone rigid and tense.

Scully gazes at the windows, at the hard white light of summer streaming in. The curtains are blue with an arabesque pattern, and they looked very chic in the store. She wonders now if they seem desperate in this odd little house. She thinks of Meg March, dressed up in borrowed finery at the Moffats’ ball.

***

Scully clomps up the steps to the porch and kicks her rain boots off next to the umbrella stand. It contains four umbrellas and a gnarled hickory limb that Mulder claims is going to be polished into a fine walking stick one of these days. She goes into the house and is dismayed to find it stale and stifling and dark. Dust motes waft in Brownian motion through shafts of sunlight, undirected by fans or air conditioning.

“Mulder,” she calls, and there is silence.

She twists her hair into a bun as she pads upstairs, old wood satiny under her bare feet. She pushes open the bedroom door, and the air is hot and still.

“Mulder?” She needs his help with her zipper, but there is no reply.

She wrestles herself out of her silk sheath, sticky and irritating, and lets it puddle on the floor. Her bra follows. She feels guilty, as Mulder has turned out to be a surprisingly diligent housekeeper. His office is filled with perilous stacks of home improvement books and arcane journals about lake monsters, the walls papered with clippings and blurry photographs, but he seems able to quarantine his own entropy.

She is trying to do the same.

Scully pulls on soft cotton pajama shorts, a gray tank top imbued with the compressive powers of Lycra. She uses lotion to rub away the mascara beneath her eyes. She goes downstairs and out the back door, shielding her eyes against the piercing sunlight. A mosquito whines at her ear and she pinches it out of the air.

“Still got those reflexes, kid,” Mulder says from somewhere off to her left.

She turns and sees him crouched next to the hulking green block of the transformer. “All the lights are off, and the house feels like a rainforest. I take it you’ve had an eventful day?”

He sighs. “Not really. Well, not the event I was hoping for, which is the power coming back on. There was a pretty heavy thunderstorm around one and that’s when the electricity blew.”

She sits on the bottom step, knees drawn up. She likes to watch him working, a side of him they’re both still learning about. There was never much call for home maintenance at Hegal Place, or living out of cash-only motels. “You call the power company?”

He huffs. “Yeah, they told me they had no reported outages and the power should be fine. I explained that I was trying to report an outage and that it definitely was not fine and she promised someone would be here between tomorrow and eventually.”

Scully smiles. “And that’s why you’re out here toying with death?”

“Not much else to do, really. Can’t write with the power out.” Mulder sits back on his heels and shrugs. “You, uh, have a good day?”

She hadn’t. “Yep. Starting to feel like part of the team.”

“Good. You need to get your career standards as high as your standards for men,” he says, getting to his feet.

“Oh, well, that’s an obviously unattainable bar.”

“Obviously.” He sits next to her on the step. “You wear that to work? You know I think bras are a tool of the patriarchy and you shouldn’t bother, but I’m just surprised Our Lady of Perpetual Shame takes such a liberal view.”

She laughs a little. “I figured as long as I tossed a lab coat over it, I’d look like a real doctor. It worked when I was a kid.”

“Hey, that’s what I did with my badge half the time. Listen, Scully. The house is pretty tropical. You want to bunk up in a hotel until they get the power sorted out?”

Scully thinks about the convenience it would afford. Maids and room service and maybe a pool, depending. But she is tired of hotels, even nice ones. She is tired of polite signs that remind her that the pillows and towels and hairdryers aren’t hers, the tiny toiletries an indicator of her temporary status. She is tired of living out of suitcases and dressers that made her clothes smell strange, tired of running from her own life. She wants to be home.

“Nah,” she says. “We’ll manage.”

Mulder looks surprised, but doesn’t question it. “I’ll call Lowe’s about getting a generator delivered tomorrow. We ought to have one anyway out here.”

She’d always had a vague idea that Mulder had money - it was the only explanation for his complete disinterest in it. But when they’d come back, when they’d talked to his lawyers, she'd been staggered. The Vineyard house alone explained his casual international jaunts. They can have things now, endless things, and there is something frantic in her that wants to spend the money. Bingeing chocolate bunnies after Lent.

Mulder peels his shirt off, wadding it into a limp ball. He tosses it so that it hooks over the doorknob. “Still got it,” he says. He preens.

“Does the NBA realize the tremendous talent they’re missing out on?” she asks. “Do they even know that, at this very moment, a six foot tall middle aged white man is out here flinging his clothing a distance of several feet?”

He snuggles up to her, wrapping his sweaty arms around her shoulders.

“Ugh,” she says, and pushes at him. “Mulder, you’re disgusting and it’s a thousand degrees out here.”

“Hoping that cold, cold heart of yours might cool me off.” She sniffs disdainfully, and he releases her. “Scully, how do you feel about bees?”

“We have a history, bees and I,” she observes, tapping the back of her neck.

Mulder curls his hand over the scar, kneads the muscles there. “Well, these wouldn’t be fancy bees.”

“Hmmm,” she says. “I’m not inherently opposed. Why do you want bees, Mulder?”

He shrugs. “I’m getting older, and I’ve got to consider funeral plans. The last one didn’t really go as expected, so I thought maybe I’d mellify myself this time.”

She nods. “Makes sense. I mean, of course, there’s no actual proof that mellification actually occurred, but that’s never stopped you.”

“I also like honey,” he adds. “And bees are good for the planet.”

“Honey often contains botulism spores,” she remarks. “Botulinum toxin is the most lethal toxin known, and it’s estimated that as little as 40 grams of it would be enough to kill everyone on earth.” She doesn’t say you shouldn’t give it to babies, that she sweetened her smoothies with dates and maple syrup so that -

“Well, nobody better piss off my bee army and me,” he says darkly.

“Everybody eventually pisses you off. Mulder, is that old tent in the shed still? We could sleep in that tonight.”

He shakes his head. “Heavy mildew and dry rot, so I threw it out. We could sleep out here if you want, though. We’ve got that big air mattress.”

“Let’s do that,” she says. “We can put it on the porch. Tell you what - you get stuff together, and I’ll even make dinner.” Scully doesn’t like cooking, but she wants to create order, to complete a finite task. She can be domesticated again, like a lost house cat finally returned to a hearth.

“We having eggs or peanut butter?” he asks, smirky.

“I’d hate to spoil the surprise,” she snips, and goes back into their sauna of a house.

In the kitchen, she stands in front of the open fridge, letting the delicious leftover cold soak into her skin. She’ll deal with the spoiled food later. Eggs had, actually, been her plan but it’s just too hot. The stove doesn’t work, and she doesn’t have the fortitude to turn the grill on. She finds some leftover shrimp pasta that Mulder has made, some vegetables, and assembles it all into a passable salad.

There, she thinks, pleased. I’d pay twelve bucks for that somewhere. She uses her foot to scratch a mosquito bite on her calf.

Her skin is clammy, hair stringy and damp from sweat. Maybe they should just go to a hotel after all. Perhaps she should stop ascribing symbolism to every damn thing and enjoy herself once in a while. But she thinks of packing, of driving, of unpacking and somehow it’s all too much and her eyes start to fill and her sinuses sting.

Scully pinches her wrist until it passes, feeling weak and hating the weakness in herself. It’s the heat, it’s the exhaustion, it’s the heavy mental load. She considers going outside for a dip in the pond, but suspects the water will be unpleasantly warm. Instead, she drags herself back upstairs for a cold shower.

She sits on the edge of the bed, weary, and stares at a framed picture of a sea turtle on the far wall. If she lets her eyes drift out of focus, it looks like it’s swimming. She tips her head back for a better angle, watches it float across her vision. It slips away then, into the black of the deep waters.

***

She startles awake when he touches her shoulder, gasps.

“Jesus,” Mulder says, and sits next to her. “Bad dream?”

Scully sits up, dazed. “What? No, was I asleep?”

“You’ve been out cold for over an hour, but I wanted to make sure you got some food. Water at least, it’s too hot up here.”

She blinks, confused. “I don’t remember,” she says. Peering to her right reveals night outside.

Mulder holds a hand out and she grasps it, letting him pull her to her feet. She wavers and he steadies her, arm about her shoulders.

“I just need some water,” she says, defensive.

He guides her down the stairs and out the front door onto the porch. The air outside is substantially cooler, a light breeze kissing her face. She settles into a chair, stares deep into the felty dark. She still can’t remember falling asleep.

Mulder hands her a water bottle from the little table and she rolls it between her palms, the plastic crinkling. “Hey, I thought you were setting up the air mattress out here,” she says.

“No air flow behind the wall,” he replies. “Drink that up like a good girl and I’ll show you what we’ve got.”

Scully obeys and feels better. The water tastes stale, but it’s cool and wet. “Maybe you should have my job,” she says, looking up. “Caring for live people is so much work.”

“Everybody eventually pisses me off,” he reminds her. “Come on, Doc.”

She follows him down the steps and around the side of the house. Their property is vast and feral, pocked with mole burrows and rabbit nests. The floodlights are out with the power, and the house is nearly swallowed up by the vast night. Scully glances up at the Milky Way, at the waxing moon, and marvels again at the sky they have out here. We are star stuff, she thinks.

“Moonstruck?” Mulder asks.

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars.”

“As long as you can tell a hawk from a handsaw,” he says, and tugs her along.

She follows him to the back of the house and then stops, smiling. Mulder has hammered some old two-by-fours into a frame, draped the structure in white bedsheets. Inside, the air mattress is piled with sofa pillows. Outside, camping lanterns, candles, and two strands of solar lights make it into a kind of fairy circle.

“Mulder,” she says, delighted. “This is ridiculous.”

“Indian Guide saves the day,” he says.

“Your architecture badge is definitely more impressive than your fire badge,” she says, walking over to the little tent. He’s brought her salad inside, and there is a cooler packed with ice and water bottles. Cans of bug spray sit at the flap. She crawls inside, suddenly ravenous.

Mulder joins her on the mattress, which bounces in response. “Remember my water bed?”

She laughs, piling food on a plate for each of them. “What a swinging bachelor you were.”

She remembers the water bed fondly, the leather couch and the fish and the postage-stamp bathroom in his apartment. It shouldn’t hurt still, but it does. She knew herself there, her place on the map. She eats her salad, wistful for Chinese food and beer at that battered coffee table.

“Scully,” he says.

“What?”

“Scully.”

“Just middle-aged nostalgia, I suppose,” she murmurs.

He reaches out to take her hand. “You’re scarcely middle aged.”

She smiles, squeezes his fingers. “If you go by life experience, we’re both about two hundred years old.”

“Like those Galapagos tortoises. But you need to tell me what’s going on at work. You won’t disappoint me.”

It can be very disagreeable to live with a profiler.

Scully drops his hand. She bites at the fleshy part of her thumb. This is real, she thinks. This place. It is not down in any map; true places never are. She can only deflect for so long, and her armor is rusting away. “I’m afraid,” she whispers, then chances a look at his face.

His eyes are soft, searching. “Why?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know, I don’t…” Her sinuses sting again and she presses her palms hard into her eyes. “Please.”

Mulder’s hand on her back, in endless, gentle figure eights. He pulls the elastic from her hair and lets it tumble down to her shoulders. He shifts so that her back is to him, his long legs on either side of her body.

“Mulder, what -”

“Shhhh,” he says, and gathers the hair at the crown of her head. “It’s not a real sleepover if you don’t get your hair French braided.”

Scully blinks. “Since when do you know how to braid hair?”

“Little sister, absent parents. Now stop moving and talk.”

She keeps her head very steady, thinking of her own sister’s deft fingers when their mother was too busy for anything but ponytails. Mulder tugs at another little section of hair. Scully thinks she might be okay if she isn’t looking at him, if she can’t read herself in his eyes.

Moth shadows dance across the white sheet wall, drawn to the flickering candles outside. It fascinates her that they never figure out that fire burns. “I don’t know how to do this,” she says, and her voice is thick.

“To talk, or to be still?” he says in his Oxford psychologist voice.

She isn’t sure of what she means either. “Yes,” she says, with a hiccupy laugh. “Both.”

“Me too,” he says, slipping his thumb through the strands behind her ear. “I don’t know how to do this.”

She swallows hard. “I just...I’ve always had something to consume me. I had the FBI, we traveled all the time, and then we were running and I thought it was hard but it was so easy to just survive. There were no decisions. I didn’t care about, I don’t know...plates.”

He pauses in his work. “Plates?”

Scully chews at a hangnail, frustrated. “Just things, the things you buy for a house. Long term things. I did with William and then…” she trails off, her chest tight. “I feel like I’m playing a game sometimes, like improv theater. Fox and Dana Build A Home.”

“Fox and Dana?” he repeats. “Surely not.”

“Well, we’re hardly Mulder and Scully anymore, are we?” Her stomach clenches and that’s it, she sees. That’s the fear.

He finishes the braid and fastens the elastic at the end of it. “Of course we are,” he says. “We are who we are.”

She turns to him then, the whispering anxiety back with a roar. “And who is that, Mulder? I was plain old Dana Scully until I met you. And we had this life, this strange and wonderful and terrible life where I was Scully because I was your partner and now that’s over. It’s all nothing.” She’s crying openly now, quietly, and it feels cleansing.

“You’re still my partner,” he says, and his eyes are shining too.

She wipes her nose with a paper napkin. “Am I? At what? I go to work and see patients but I forgot there’s no closure with the living. People get sick and get better and get sick again. It doesn’t end. And this house, the power is always going to go out and the chickens will always be hungry and -“ she stops, feeling hysterical.

“You don’t have to work,” he says softly. “The settlement from the FBI, my inheritance…”

She shakes her head. “You know I have to work.”

He sighs, rubs her knee. “I know you do. But it doesn’t have to be this. It doesn’t have to drain you.”

He’s right, of course he’s right, but he’s also so terribly wrong that she wonders if he knows her at all. She has to be a doctor for her father, for William. For him. She has to see something through. Scully smooths her hand over the back of her head, feeling the even ridges of the braid. Mulder is so competent with everything he does, so easy with himself. He’ll get his damned bees and become some kind of honey magnate in no time.

“People at the hospital, they ask me what I did before. And I don’t know how to answer. How can I possibly answer that question? I just say I was with the government, but that isn’t really the answer, is it?”

Mulder shrugs. He’s never felt the need to explain himself to people. “It’s true.”

Scully stretches out on her stomach across the mattress, chin on the pillows, watching the moths again. They tumble like acrobats, untethered in the thick air. “There’s this number called Graham’s number, used in Ramsey Theory, which is, well, nevermind. It doesn’t matter. Anyway, it was in the Guinness Book for being the largest specific number used in a proof at the time. And Mulder, this number is so big that writing out all the digits would exceed the bounds of the known universe.”

“Nobody likes a math nerd, Scully.”

She rolls onto her back to glare at him. “Yes they do, they give them Nobel prizes. Anyway. A whole new notation system, Knuth Notation, had to be developed to express these massive numbers. Graham’s Number, Tree(3), et cetera. And I feel like that at times. That there’s this endless amount of vital, inexpressible information inside of me that is so essential but that I have no way to share.”

She blinks a few times, spent by this unburdening.

Mulder stretches out next to her, propped on his side. “You can express it to me,” he says, massaging her temple with his thumb.

Scully closes her eyes. “I feel like a ghost sometimes. How do you do it, Mulder? How do you just keep moving forward without getting lost?”

He sighs. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have a tendency to compile people into perfect specimens, then measure yourself against that imaginary standard. It’s the precession of simulacra.”

She looks at him, indignant, then realizes he could be right. “Well,” she says. “It’s possible. But Mulder, is that such a bad thing, to want to hold myself to the highest goals?”

He tugs her onto her side so that she’s facing him, nearly nose to nose. Her lips feel tingly. “Yes,” he says, stroking her hair. “When the goal isn’t attainable. And when it puts everyone else on pedestals where we’re ill equipped to balance. And when it puts you in a constant state of frustration and anxiety. No one is perfect. Not even you.”

“I don’t want to be perfect,” she lies. “And I don’t need you to be either.” That part is true, at least.

He laughs in reply. “Apropos of being Galapagos tortoises, Charles Darwin once said ‘I am very poorly today, and very stupid and hate everybody and everything.’”

“He rode the tortoises,” Scully says, calming. “I can’t defend his methodology.”

“See? You’re better than Charles Darwin.” He kisses her forehead.

“Well,” she says. “Well.”

“Scully, look. You’re not alone here, feeling at sea. I went to the feed store and some guy picked a fight, shoved me pretty hard with his shoulder. And this reflexive part of my brain wanted to grab my badge, stick it in his face, and put him against the wall for assaulting a federal agent. But I ignored it and bought the chicken feed and just headed out. And I felt like, is this who I am now? Some pushover with yard birds and home improvement books?”

“You made a little fast and loose with your authority sometimes,” she says, thinking of Roche. She curves her palm against his cheek, thumbs the fine ridge of his zygomatic bone.

He bumps her nose with his. “You broke into a secret morgue.”

“You made me.” She sniffles, laughs a little. “The good old days.”

“These can be the good days too,” he says. “They can, if we work at it.” He traces her mouth with his finger.

“Okay,” she says. Hope stirs in her, a thing with feathers. “Partners?”

“Partners.”

He kisses her, in their small tent, in their ring of light.

#xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #my fic #iwtb

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yusuke-of-valla · 3 years

Text

The Best Laid Plans (Are Not Thought of in Half A Second)

[a/n]: I finally wrote that hurt/comfort! This was supposed to be like 500 words but it got away from me.

Set vaguely in some period during Strikers before Zenkichi joins because I’m not that far into the game

TW: concussions, falling off of high places, descriptions of injuries that get healed via Persona magic

AO3

“Mine, mine, mine!” the High Pixie giggles, the desires it’s stolen floating around its head. The Phantom Thieves try to cut a path towards it, but the horde of other shadows just won’t stop coming. It doesn’t help that the cramped rooftops of the Shibuya jail don’t leave a lot of room to maneuver.

Yusuke grunts, parrying shadows left and right. Just when he’s cleared through enough of them to have a second to breathe, he spots a shadow lunging towards Ryuji, who's too busy fending off three other shadows to notice.

At first Yusuke tries to summon Goemon, but he’s met with a gnawing hole in his mind as he realizes he can’t remember how.

Forget spell, fantastic.

The shadow trips Ryuji with it’s baton, tripping him. It’s about to charge a spell, so Yusuke grits his teeth and runs forward to tackle it before it can get another hit in.

The good news is he does cause the shadow to stumble, and it’s attack just misses Ryuji.

The bad news is the shadow stumbles backwards.

Over the edge of the building.

And it pulls Yusuke down with it.

Yusuke feels the shadow dissolve right before he crashes into the ground.

Everything hurts.

Well, Yusuke thinks, struggling to force himself onto his back, at least the shadow’s dealt with.

Spots dance in Yusuke’s vision, and each breath is accompanied by a sharp pain in his chest. He thinks he can just make out the sound of someone screaming, but that might just be the ringing in his ears.

I think I’ll just wait for the others, is the last thought that crosses his mind before Yusuke passes out.

Ryuji just barely clocks Yusuke straight up tackling a shadow, and is about to thank him for the save when Futaba screams and Ryuji realizes:

Oh.

There’s no more roof there.

The battle seems to slow down as everyone stares at the part where Yusuke went over the side.

The first to move is the High Pixie.

“Mine!” it squeals, swooping down and scooping Yusuke up under one arm. He’s barely moves and is pretty banged up. “All mine!” The shadow starts to fly off, and that snaps the rest of the Phantom Thieves into action.

“Um, I think the fuck not.” Ann shouts, quick to wrap her whip around the shadow’s leg.

Sophia follows suit, using her yo-yos to help pull the shadow and Yusuke back towards them. The High Pixie pouts and with a flick of its hand launches the back with a gust of wind.

Ann goes down hard, and Morgana stays back to heal her while Akira starts leaping across rooftops after the shadow, Sophia, Ryuji, and Makoto right behind him. Unfortunately, the High Pixie is fast, and keeps. Eventually they’re stopped by another group of shadows and forced to deal with that.

“Shit,” Akira pants, once the enemies are taken care of and the High Pixie is nowhere in sight. “Oracle can you-”

“No. I can’t pick up the shadow or Yu- Fox.” Futaba says.

“...Alright, we’ll head back to the crossing and see if you can pick up a signal from there, or Mona can sniff out the desires.

Futaba nods stiffly, then starts walking away, fists clenched. Akira and Ryuji share a look, and Ryuji sprints after her. “You ok?”

“Nothing’s happened to me.”

“You know this place is huge, don’t beat yourself up for losing them.” Futaba keeps pushing forward and Ryuji jogs to stand in front of her. “Fox’ll be fine, ok?” he says, patting her on the shoulder.

Futaba stops. “I hope you’re right,” she mutters before pulling away.

They meet back up with Ann, Morgana, and Haru, and all head to the crossing.

“I’m picking up the desires!” Morgana announces. “I think the smell’s coming from Maruku City.”

They leap from car to car across the crossing until they’ve arrived. Once they reach their destination, Futaba perks up.

“Got it,” Futaba announces. “I think the shadow made a nest at the top of the keep.”

“Do you have a read on Fox?” Makoto asks.

“...Yeah.” Futaba says. “He’s not worse than he was before he fell, at least.”

“Good job Oracle,” Akira says.

“We should try and draw the shadow’s attention,” Makoto suggests. “That way someone can grab Yusuke while it's occupied.”

Akira nods. “Queen, you, Panther, and Noir are with me. Once we have its attention, the rest of you guys grab Fox and get him out of the line of fire. Skull can take the lead.”

Everyone nods, then the two groups split up. Akira’s group sneaks around the base of the keep, out of sight. The High Pixie is floating around the top, pleased with itself. Once it’s in position, Akira shoots.

The High Pixie is instantly caught off guard, and before it gets the chance to call for backup, Haru follows up, knocking the shadow to the ground. While they go all out attacking the shadow, the others race up the steps of the keep.

.Pennants, broken decorations, a skateboard, some stolen desires, and a bunch of other random knick knacks are scattered around. Yusuke’s lying on the ground looking much paler than usual. Ryuji notices Futaba’s shoulders relax when Sophia and Morgana start to heal him up.

Yusuke’s eyes flutter open as the color comes back to his face. “Where...”

“You got nabbed by that shadow after your swan dive.” Futaba explains, kneeling down next to him.

“O...k…?” Yusuke starts to sit up, but Futaba stops him.

“Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself more.”

“Did you have to be so loud?”

“Excuse me? You do not get to complain about your rescue.”

Yuuske just groans, closes his eyes, and lies back down.

“Uggh. Stupid Inari. Mona, Sophie, heal him again so Skull can carry him.” Futaba says. They do, and Yusuke’s breathing starts to get better. Ryuji picks him up carefully, and with some help from Futaba and Sophie, get Yusuke onto Ryuji’s back.

“My head hurts…” Yusuke mutters, laying his head on Ryuji’s shoulder.

“Well, that will happen when you dive over the side of the building.”

“‘S just… trying to help.”

“I know, and I appreciate it, but for now let’s get you out of here.” Not wanting to risk Yusuke falling off Ryuji’s back and taking another fall, they back head down the steps. More shadows have shown up while the others fought the High Pixie, so Morgana clears the way for Futaba, Ryuji, Yusuke while Sophie covers their backs.

Once they’re a safe distance from the keep Ryuji sets Yusuke down on the ground.

“Ok. You’re safe now.” Futaba says, taking a deep breath. “So seriously, what were you thinking?”

“Do you have to be so loud?” Yusuke mutters.

“I’m not being loud.”

“Are you sure?” Yusuke replies, squeezing his eyes shut.”My ears are ringing.”

“Oracle, step aside for a second?” Sophia asks. Futaba does, and Sophia neals down next to Yusuke. “What is your name and how old are you?”

“17 years old.”

“Do you know where you are right now?”

Yusuke blinks. “The… Shibuya Jail?”

“What year is it?”

Yusuke frowns. “I’m not…”

Sophia nods. “Ok, I’ve got it. Based on his symptoms, Fox has a concussion.”

“Concussion…” Yusuke repeats. “Alright, I’ll just take a nap then-”

“No sleeping!” Futaba snaps.

Yusuke winces.

“Sorry,” Futaba says, quieter. “But I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to sleep with a concussion.” She pulls out a soda and hands it to Yusuke. “C’mon, try and have something to drink.”

“Thanks.”

The sound of the High Pixie being defeated rings out, and soon enough the rest of the team joins them.

“Are you alright?” Haru gasps as soon as she sees Yusuke.

“Not so loud, please. Concussion.”

“Sorry!” Haru whispers.

“You’re fine.”

“He has a concussion?” Makoto asks, kneeling down next to Yusuke.

Sophia nods. “Most likely. He has demonstrated several symptoms, such as headaches, a ringing in his ears, dilated pupils, and disorientation.”

“Healing spells haven’t worked?”

“We’ve used a bunch and he hasn’t gotten better.”

“Could be because it’s a head injury, and those are weirder than just healing a cut or something,” Futaba suggests. “Or it could be that Yusuke was so banged up there’s a limit to what can be healed at once.”

Makoto sighs. “Fair enough, it’s not like we’ve ever had to treat a concussion in the Metaverse before. We should take him to a hospital.”

“Sounds good,” Akira says, watching the desires the High Pixie had stolen return to their owners. “We’re done here anyway.” He and Ann help Yusuke up, and they leave the Metaverse.

Several hours later, Futaba’s pacing is the only noise in the RV. “What is taking them so long?!”

They were crowding the ER, so Makoto stayed in the hospital to answer their questions while everyone else went back to the RV.

“Makoto said Yusuke’s gonna be fine.” Akira says, petting Morgana. “They just have to wait for Zenkichi.” According to Makoto, the doctor confirmed Yusuke had a concussion and should be observed for the next 24 hours, but they wouldn’t let him out of the hospital without a parent or guardian. So, they’d called up Zenkichi.

“Maybe it got worse somehow! That happens you know, someone looks like they’re fine, and then suddenly they’re not.”

“Futaba, there’s no need to get so worked up,” Haru says.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw what I saw!” Futaba snaps. “Necronomicon showed me all of Yusuke’s vitals, I knew exactly what happened to him after he fell. He broke pretty much everything.” Futaba shudders. “One nudge in the wrong place and a rib could pierce a lung or something, if that hadn’t happened already. He had a hip fracture too, do you know how bad those can be? He might never have walked again before Morgana and Sophia healed him, and even after all of that he wasn’t even healed all the way! If we hadn’t gotten there in time-”

Futaba pulls off her glasses and wipes her eyes.

“Futaba,” Ann says, pulling her into a hug. “It’s gonna be ok. Yusuke’s walking, he’s breathing fine, and he just needs to rest, ok? We were able to find him quickly because you picked up his signal.”

“Not to mention you stopped him from hurting himself more when we found him.” Ryuji adds. “Yusuke’s gonna be fine, and he’s gonna be fine because you were there to help him. We just gotta hold on, ok?”

“I didn’t realize I worried you so much, Futaba.”

Everyone turns to see Yusuke, Makoto, and Zenkichi standing in the doorway.

“Yusuke!” Futaba pulls away form Ann and grabs a bag from the hospital gift shop. “That was so stupid of you,” she says, pushing a “Get Well” Mothman plush into Yusuke’s arms.

“Sorry.”

“Well, I mean, you did save Ryuji’s butt so you don’t have to be too sorry.”

“Yeah dude, I totally appreciate that,” Ryuji agrees.

“I just wished you saved him using your Persona instead of, you know, yeeting yourself off a roof.” Futaba points out.

“I couldn’t, I was hit with a forget spell.” Yusuke pouts.

“You could've used your gun.”

Yusuke doesn’t say anything.

“Did you seriously forget about your gun?”

“I forgot we were on a roof, Futaba, clearly I forgot about a lot of things.” Yusuke says, hugging the Mothman plush defensively. “I’m really sorry though. I tried to help and only created more problems for all of you, and now you’ll be shorthanded-”

Morgana jumps onto the table in front of Yusuke. “Hey none of that. Let us worry about you for a few days, ok?”

“Yeah dude,” Ryuji says. “I say, let’s just blame the shadow and it’s weird desire to hoard things, and go out to eat instead.”

“Um, maybe a loud, bright, busy, restaurant isn’t the best place to take the concussed teenager?” Zenkichi points out.

“Good point,” Makoto says. “Guess you can get us take out then.”

“Are you-” Zenkichi sighs. “Fine, alright. What do you want?”

“I could go for some yakisoba,” Yusuke says.

“I want sushi!” Morgana adds.

“I’m feeling like nikuman, actually,” Haru adds.

“You know what? Just text me your orders,” Zenkichi says. “Call if you need anything else. But you kids stay safe ok? I have no clue what happens when you do your whole... thing , but you know, don’t get yourselves killed?”

“Gotcha!” Akira says.

Once Zenkcihi leaves, Futaba turns to the group. “Now, it’s on to Operation: Take Care of Inari.”

Yusuke looks up from his Mothman plush. “You don’t have to do that, I can handle myself.”

“Nope. Part of being on a team means you have to put up with us looking after you.”

The rest of the Thieves nod in agreement, and Yusuke sighs. Looks like there’s no fighting this.

“Fine,” he says, smiling.

They eventually agree on settling down to watch a movie— Yusuke’s choice— and eat their dinner on the floor of the RV in the middle of a large pillow fort.

“Thank you..” Yusuke says under his breath, leaning into his blanket and his friends’ warmth.

#alto writes #persona 5 #p5s #wordcount: 2000-2500 #hurt/comfort #injuries tw #sad art boi hours #yes this goes with the picture i drew

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sukifans · 4 years

Text

PET • RI • CHOR

[n] a pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

A/N: we have read more cuts, bitches. also iroh is the ultimate wingman lmao. enjoy this pt it is very soft and fun ~

⏎ MASTERLIST // PART I « PART II » PART III

Zuko found himself walking down the seemingly endless corridors of the Fire Nation palace. He caught sight of his reflection in a window pane and stopped to look. He quickly reached up to touch his face when he realized he no longer had his scar. The skin that was usually rough and dry and cracked was now as smooth as the rest of his cheek. His hair was longer, pulled half-up in a top knot that held the Fire Lord’s hairpiece. He moved his fingers away from his face to touch the golden flame but stopped when he heard a voice.

“Hey, over here!” the voice called. He turned and saw the familiar girl from the tea house standing at the other end of the corridor. She giggled before running off, rounding a corner.

“Wait!” he shouted, chasing after her. He was only barely keeping up, just catching glimpses of her long braid or her clothes whipping around a corner before she disappeared again. He stopped when he saw her standing still in front of a doorway, smiling. “Who are you?”

Her face immediately fell and her eyes filled with tears. Guilt squeezed his chest, making it hard to breathe. “You mean, you don’t remember me, Zuko?”

“I- I’m sorry. You’re so familiar, I just can’t place you-“ he stammered.

“You forgot me!” she roared, face contorting with anger now. He took a step back, frightened by her distorted features. “You killed me, and now you forgot me! How could you?”

“I d-didn’t kill anyone,” he whispered. The girl opened her mouth wider than should’ve been possible and let out an inhuman wail, running into the dark room beyond the doorway. Against his better judgement, he followed.

Zuko’s heart raced when he looked around and found himself in the Agni Kai room he’d been burned in. Three figures stood in the middle of the room with their backs to him, one on their knees between the other two. Cautiously, he approached. He felt sick to his stomach when he saw his father and Azula were the two standing figures. On her knees was the waterbending girl from the infirmary he’d known as a child. Ozai was holding her by her hair as silent tears rolled down her cheeks, forcing her to hold her head up.

“Let her go,” Zuko demanded. Ozai and Azula both laughed.

“Or what, Zuzu? You can’t fight both of us and protect the snow savage,” Azula purred. She crouched down and grabbed Kena’s face roughly, her sharp nails digging into her skin. Kena whimpered helplessly and Zuko felt like he’d been hollowed out. The poor girl’s whole body was trembling with fear.

“Zuko, help me. Please,” she whispered desperately. He tried to move to reach her but his feet were rooted to the spot. Ozai yanked her hair and Kena swallowed a yelp.

“Look, little girl. He’s not going to save you. In fact, he gave you to me.” He forced her head back up to make her look Zuko in the eye.

“I didn’t! Kena, please-“

“Beg, savage, and maybe he’ll help you,” Ozai snarled, throwing her onto her face at Zuko’s feet. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t move. He felt like he might fall apart when he and Kena made eye contact just as she started sobbing openly and loudly.

“Zuko, please! Don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything, just please don’t hurt me again!”

“I- I would never-“ he started but was cut off by Kena’s desperate cries as she dropped her head again. “I’m trying but I can’t move.”

She tilted her head up and suddenly she was older — the girl from the tea shop again. With a rush he realized he could move again and immediately dove down to scoop her up. As soon as he touched her, she screamed like she’d been burned and scrambled away from him, looking terrified. Ozai laughed again and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her up off the ground so her feet barely skimmed the floor. She desperately clawed at his arm but Ozai was entirely unbothered. She was struggling to breathe, chest heaving while she choked and sputtered.

“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher,” his father said and Zuko’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

Azula approached Kena with her hand engulfed in blue flame. The waterbender thrashed and fought but couldn’t get free, not before Azula brought her hand to her face-

“Kena!” Zuko sat bolt upright in his bed, drenched in sweat and his heart racing. His blanket was tangled and twisted around his legs and his pillow was somehow across the room. When he realized what he’d seen had just been a nightmare, he started trying to calm himself down with deep, uneven breaths, holding his head in his shaking hands.

Kena. She was here. She spoke with him. Hell, he had a date with her in less than twenty four hours. Sana had told him that she and her mother had escaped from the palace before being executed, but he had never been sure whether or not she was lying to spare his feelings. To see her here, alive and seemingly happy... he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to speak to her again without blowing his cover. She didn’t seem to recognize him, what with the scar and all the time that has passed. He didn’t know if he preferred that over her knowing it was him or not.

Sighing, Zuko slipped out of bed and started to dress himself. He needed to get out for a bit and take a walk, maybe pick a fight, to clear his head. He slung his swords in their sheath over his shoulder and tied the ribbon of his mask around his head before creeping out of the apartment, careful not to wake Iroh. He wandered down the empty streets, sticking to the shadows cast by the shoddy buildings of the Lower Ring in the moonlight and slipped into small alleyways to avoid running into any late-night stragglers.

His breath caught in his throat when he turned into an alley see someone else at the other end. There stood a woman in a flowing white dress with a large black bag across her body. Most peculiarly, she also wore a mask — a black base painted with white detail to depict a smiling koi face. She cocked her head curiously as they studied each other silently. He briefly considered pulling out his swords, believing he’d found his fight, but changed his mind when he realized she didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. If she had, surely she would’ve drawn it by now.

Slowly, she nodded to him in acknowledgement before turning and disappearing around the corner. He hurried to follow but she was nowhere to be seen when he poked his head out of the alley. Maybe she really was a spirit of some sort. Ba Sing Se was certainly weird enough for it.

Kena woke up late in the morning, sunshine streaming in through her small window and directly across her closed eyelids. She sighed and turned over, burying her face into the pillow to maybe sneak a few more minutes. That, is until whoever was at the door started banging on it again like they had been when they’d woken her. She continued to lay there, listening for Fera. They knocked again. Clearly Fera wouldn’t be answering this morning. She had probably already left for her job as a maid for a wealthy family in the Upper Ring. Groaning, she pushed herself to her feet and wrapped her robe around her body.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Spirits, just stop banging on the door before you break the damn thing!” She yanked the door open only to immediately be trampled by four raucous girls rushing into the apartment.

“Morning, sunshine!”

“Are you okay? You just left us yesterday!”

“Yeah, you looked like you’d run into a spirit or something!”

“Did he reject you for some reason? Do we need to go knock him around for a bit until he finds his sense?”

“Because we totally will.”

“Yeah, we can take that skinny kid, easy.”

Kena laughed at her friends. “Guys, it’s fine. Last night I just remembered that Fera had asked me to pick something up for dinner from the market and I’d totally forgotten so I had to hurry. Sorry I didn’t say anything, you know my one-track mind.” She went to the kitchen to put on some tea while the rest all settled down in the living room.

“But you did ask him out, right?” Jin pressed and Kena rolled her eyes, cheeks heating up.

“Yes. You guys shoved me back in there.”

The girls looked at her expectantly. “And? What did he say?” Mona gestured for her to continue, raising her eyebrows.

“He said yes,” she answered quietly and her friends immediately started hooting and hollering. “Shut up! The neighbors are gonna make a noise complaint again!”

“Aren’t you excited, Sola?” Kyali sighed dreamily, clasping her hands. “I don’t think you’ve been on a date in the entire time we’ve known you and now you’re going out with this hot, brooding, mysterious guy.”

“I bet he writes poetry,” said Oma. “Maybe he’ll write something about you!”

“You guys are insane,” Kena laughed, shaking her head. “All of you need to stop reading those garbage romance books.”

“Look, we all already know you’re Miss Independent and you don’t need a man or whatever. You can be excited about your date tonight,” Jin said pointedly. Kena rolled her eyes as she carried over the pot of tea and five cups.

“Fine, okay; I’m a little excited,” she said, pouring everyone a cup before sitting on the mat next to Mona. She was more than a little excited, but for different reasons than her friends thought. She was also incredibly nervous, unsure of whether or not to confront her childhood best friend.

Mona took a sip and smirked. “Is this jasmine?” Kena shook her head exasperatedly, hiding a smile, as her friends all laughed.

Zuko sat on the floor in front of his uncle, who by all appearances was attacking him with a small comb. He winced when the teeth pulled through another knot, grumbling.

“Nephew, when was the last time you combed your hair?” Iroh tsked as he gave another mighty pull.

“I’ve had bigger things to worry about recently, in case you forgot,” Zuko responded. Iroh sighed dramatically.

“Often, we only feel inside as good as we look outside,” he said. Zuko rolled his eyes.

“This seems like a little much.”

“It’s your first date with this girl! You need to make a good first impression.”

“I’ve already made a first impression. She knocked me over and cut her hand open.”

“And that was very kind of you to help her!”

“You kind of gave me no choice.”

“I could tell you liked her, I was just pushing you in the right direction,” Iroh said smugly and Zuko grimaced. “But you’re still working on your first impression. A first impression only ends when the relationship does.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Uncle.” Zuko made a strangled noise of protest as Iroh started slicking his hair down with some sort of slimy paste.

“I used to be very popular with the ladies in my prime. I can give you some tips, if you’d like.”

“I would not,” Zuko interjected quickly but his uncle steamrolled ahead anyways.

“First, you should compliment her as soon as you see her. Tell her she is more radiant than the first fire lily of spring.”

“Talking about fire lilies seems like a bad move,” Zuko said. His cheeks tinged pink, however, remembering the fire lily he gave her that night in the palace — the last time he’d ever seen her until the day before.

“Perhaps you’re right, Nephew,” Iroh mused, looking thoughtful. “Instead, tell her that her eyes are more captivating than a moon flower during a lunar eclipse. Or, perhaps that her presence is as warm and comforting as a fresh cup of tea on a winter night! Remember, this could be your future wife!”

“That’s enough, thank you.” Zuko stood quickly, having heard enough to be sufficiently embarrassed. “You’re going to make me late if you keep messing with my hair.”

“I suppose that will be as good as it’s going to get, then. Do a turn so I can see you properly.”

“Uncle, honestly-“

“Turn, Prince Zuko.” Exasperated, Zuko turned in a quick circle, shoulders tense as Iroh scrutinized him. “You look very handsome! But you would look much better if you smiled.” Iroh beamed as if to demonstrate and Zuko gave him a sour look. “I said ‘smile,’ not ‘scowl.’ Don’t do that in front of her.”

“I’m leaving now,” Zuko said flatly, walking towards the door.

“Be nice! Pay for dinner! Don’t frown! Stay out as late as you want, I won’t wait up,” Iroh called after him as he hurried out.

Kena felt her heart start racing when she caught sight of him outside the Pao Family Tea House, hair combed and flattened into a middle part that she had to swallow a laugh about — surely Iroh’s work.

“Hey, Lee,” she said as she approached. “You look so cute.” She laughed and she ruffled his hair. He gave her a pained look and caught her wrist in his hand.

“It took my uncle ten minutes to do my hair.”

“That’s sweet,” she said with a soft smile, surprising him as she laced their fingers together. He willed himself not to go red in the face. “Come on, the festival’s already begun!”

She dragged him through the streets, talking excitedly about the food she wanted him to try and a few performers that would be on the stage in the middle of the Lower Ring later. He didn’t say much, just enjoyed her presence and the fact that she was alive and here and somehow with him. Any chance he got he stared at her, analyzing every detail of her face and comparing it to what he could remember from childhood. She still had the same medium-brown skin, dark hair, and grey eyes of course, but it all felt new and exciting again; her hair was longer and flowed freely down her back and her eyes, though still kind and sparkling, held something deeper that had not been there before. He also noticed a long, thin white scar that trailed down the left side of her face from her forehead, through her eyebrow, and down to the corner of her jaw. The thought of someone hurting her made him angrier than he’d anticipated, but he tried not to focus on it. Instead he fixated on how she was almost always smiling or laughing, how casually and comfortably she touched him when she held his hand or grabbed his arm when he made her laugh or brushed her fingers against his forehead when she put a goofy hat she’d won in a game on top of his head. It had been a long time since he’d let himself just be around someone, and it felt incredible. She was still, despite everything, so unabashedly Kena that it made his heart squeeze in his chest. He didn’t know how he hadn’t recognized her as soon as he laid eyes on her, because it seemed overwhelmingly obvious now.

Kena, meanwhile, was trying her hardest to get him to slip up. Something had happened between that night and the day before, because she saw immediately from the way he looked at her that he knew. She figured it was only a matter of time before he misstepped somewhere.

“Lee is an interesting name,” she’d mentioned casually as they watched two contortionists on stage twist themselves into impossible positions.

“I really have to beg to differ on that one,” he’d said in response.

“It’s just a very common name in the Fire Nation, you know? Before I came to Ba Sing Se, there were at least a dozen people named Lee in even the smallest villages. But oddly enough, I’ve never met anyone named Lee here except for you.”

He’d simply shrugged and said, “my village was colonized by the Fire Nation decades ago. I guess the name bled into the local culture.” She’d hummed noncommittally at that and went back to square one with a new plan.

“So, you mentioned you and your uncle traveled around a lot,” she’d started. “Why?”

He hesitated just a beat too long. “We were... uh, part of this traveling circus.” She couldn’t believe he didn’t have a better lie ready.

“Really? What did you do? Actually, let me guess.” She tapped her chin for dramatic effect as she considered something Zuko would likely be awful at. Her face split into a wicked grin. “You juggled!”

He looked at her, slightly annoyed. “Yeah, you got me. I juggled.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to juggle. Can you show me something?” She handed him a couple small fruits from a cart they were standing near, looking up at him expectantly. He looked ashen as he slowly took them from her. Awkwardly, he threw them up in the air and they flew in wildly different directions, one landing directly on his head.

“I haven’t practiced for a while.” He cleared his throat, a deep red creeping across his cheeks as she laughed.

“Ah, I understand.”

When they stopped for food at a noodle cart, she’d mentioned they offered supposedly authentic Fire Nation fire flakes. He’d nodded in acknowledgement and then ordered the blandest thing on the menu. The prince was certainly going to give her a run for her money.

Zuko didn’t understand why she kept bringing up the Fire Nation throughout the night. Did she know? He didn’t think she did. She hadn’t at the tea shop, why would she now? Did he do something to tip her off? She’d been in Ba Sing Se for many years; she most likely had heard nothing about his banishment or his hunt for the Avatar and had yet to bring up anything about his scar. He hoped that she didn’t think he was here to hurt people — surely she wouldn’t have asked him on a date if she thought that, right?

Night had long since fallen, but the streets were still bursting with light and life from the festival. He had a small grin on his face while he watched Kena start an argument with a man running some rigged betting game. She accused him of cheating and he shouted at her to leave immediately or he’d call in the Dai Li. Grumbling, Kena grabbed his hand again and stalked away. He was still smiling as she pulled him along and she sent him a (mostly) playful glare.

“What are you grinning at? I just lost ten silver pieces!” she huffed.

“You,” he responded without thinking. Realizing what he said, he quickly shut his mouth. They both flush and looked away from each other.

She took in a deep breath to regain her composure before turning her head to look at him again. “Do you want to see something cool?” There was no way he would’ve been able to refuse that excited look in her eye, even if he’d wanted to.

Zuko followed as she lead him into an alley and started climbing up a fire escape. He watched as she nimbly maneuvered herself higher and higher. “Are you sure this is... legal?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s not,” she called down to him, peeking her head over the railing, “but it’s alright! We’re crafty. Now hurry up or we’ll miss it!”

“If you say so...” he trailed off as he gripped the side of the ladder and started making his way up. When he reached the top, he found her sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the flat roof and staring at the city skyline, holding her chin in her hands. He sat down next to her and took the opportunity of the quiet moment to examine her profile illuminated by the festival lights below. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. At first he tensed but then he slowly relaxed, slowly wrapping his arm around around her waist. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking in the view. Well, she was taking in the view; Zuko was trying to ignore the goosebumps running across his skin from her warm breath dancing across his neck.

“Lee,” she started quietly, “I know we just met yesterday, but I think I really like you.”

“I really like you, too,” he agreed, surprising himself a little. He rested his cheek on top of her head and closed his eyes. She still smelled the same — something fresh and pleasant and clean that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Kena was tired of dancing around what they both knew. Throwing caution to the wind, she cleared her throat and spoke. “You know, I used to be a servant for the royal family in the Fire Nation.”

He cursed himself for the way his whole body flinched. “Yeah? How was that?”

“Terrible. I was taken from my home when I was young and kept there for years. It was just my mom and I.”

“No friends?”

“They don’t exactly let the help just make friends all willy-nilly. That’s a good foundation for a staff revolt.” She rolled her eyes. “I did have one friend I managed to make though.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, except he was the prince.”

She heard his breath hitch. “Oh. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. That’s why we had to leave, actually. Ozai found out and was not happy his firebender son was making nice with someone like me. Apparently he wanted to execute us to make some sort of point, but Ursa and the other servants helped us sneak out of the palace before we were taken to be killed.”

“I’ve heard a lot of good about Ursa,” he said softly, tenderness in his voice.

“She was a wonderful woman. There was a lot of her in the prince, too. I guess that’s why I liked them so much.” He said nothing, so she continued. “It broke my heart to leave. I never even got to say goodbye even though I pinky-promised to see him again the night before Ozai found out.” She thought for a moment. “I always wondered if he ever thought of me, because I thought of him all the time.”

“I- he did. Probably. I don’t know,” he huffed. “I mean that I think, if it were me, I would’ve thought about you every day.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a long time before Kena finally spoke, smiling faintly. “You and your uncle stick out like two sore thumbs here.”

His shoulder shook under her cheek when he chuckled. “I know. I think it started out as a joke, and then we actually couldn’t think of anything better.”

She sat up straight now and cupped his face in her hands. Gently, she brushed her thumb over the rough, gnarled skin on his cheek. She wasn’t sure why, but a few slow tears rolled down her cheeks. “We match,” she said softly, meeting his eyes when he used his fingertip to trace the scar that ran down her face.

“It looks much better on you,” he joked and she gave him a watery smile. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Suddenly, she lunged at him to squeeze him in a tight hug, knocking them both backwards into a pile. “It’ll take a lot more than your awful father to kill me,” she murmured into his chest from her position on top of him. Hesitant at first, he wrapped his arms around her. It just felt so right to be with her again. He couldn’t help tightening his grip and burying his face into her cascade of hair. In the background he could hear fireworks going off, but he didn’t care about anything that wasn’t her.

“I missed you, Kena,” he said, so quietly the wind almost carried the words away. His lungs ached because her name on his lips felt like a long, full breath of fresh air after years underwater.

“I missed you too, Zuko.” Her cool skin against his warmth felt like a wave of water over the flames inside of him. He finally, for the first time he could remember since losing his mother, felt safe. He clutched at her clothes to pull her in as close as possible, breathing her in deeply. She smelled like the first monsoon after a lifelong dry season; she smelled like petrichor.

A/N:

TAGS: @beifongsss @the-lva-way @lammello @llorom6nnic @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @royahllty @mamooska8 @bucky-blogs @youneedmemanidonotneedyou @eridanuswave @rosetheshapeshifter @fantasticchaoticwho @bwndito @dancerslovelife @justab-eautifulmess

#mine #petrichor #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla fic #atla fanfic #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x oc #prince zuko x reader #zuko fanfic #avatar fic #zuko fluff #zuko fic #zuko x reader #the last airbender

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crzangel · 3 years

Text

A small thing for @tellingandyelling‘s birthday! A good day to thee my wonderful friend, have a shukita thought on this joyous day of your birth uwu

One thing that Yusuke had come to learn after meeting the Phantom Thieves was that, more often than not, things are not quite as they seem. There are things hidden from most everyone’s perceptions, things that not everyone might understand even if told, but that exist all the same. The metaverse was one such thing, and as much as he may have wanted to at some point, Yusuke cannot deny its existence nor its influence in the world most others live in unaware.

That being said...

This...

This he cannot quite explain nor wrap his head around. Even with everything he knows, it seems a little strange, which is really saying something. Though, when Futaba of all people called him in a panic, he should have expected it to be serious.

And indeed it is, he thinks as he leans down to inspect the dishevelled furball sitting on the bed in Morgana’s place while the aforementioned cat apparently stands off to the side looking very much like not one. Yusuke blinks slowly and the scruffy black cat blinks in return, purring as it stands on its hind legs and reaches for his face with a paw, sniffing at his lips.

The little mrrow that follows isn’t like the faked noises Yusuke is used to hearing from Morgana, a very cat like expression that he really doesn’t understand at all. At least the gestures seem affectionate enough, so that is a relief.

“So... What exactly happened?”

“I keep telling you that I just woke up like this and Akira was like that.” Supposed Morgana shrugs and both Yusuke and Futaba turn to the stranger with furrowed brows.

“He does sound the same...” Yusuke reasons, uncertain.

“But I’m not convinced...” Futaba continues, pursing her lips as she crosses her arms over her chest.

Another rumbling noise comes from the black cat, drawing Yusuke’s attention back to it while it jumps down to the floor and rubs against his legs, purring loudly once more.

“Look, right there? Isn’t that proof enough it’s him?”

Humming, Yusuke crouches down to pet between its fluffy ears. The hair isn’t quite the same, it’s slightly softer, more like fur, but it elicits a similar feeling as he runs his fingers through it, especially with how it closes its dark eyes, letting out his satisfied mewls when he scratches behind its ear. Akira usually likes it when he nibbles at his ears...

Carefully, he takes the cat in his arms, holding it up to his chest, and he rubs his face onto the top of its head. It smells as Akira usually does too...

“Well, even if that is true, it still doesn’t explain how or why Joker’s like that and Mona well... isn’t.”

“Well, Akira and I were watching the sky last night, and there was a shooting star. He told me to make a wish.”

“That could not possibly be why.” Yusuke huffs, sitting on the bed and letting the cat get comfortable on his lap, watching it knead at his stomach before curling up with more purrs.

“I did wish to know what it’s like to be a human for a day.” Morgana scratches at the back of his head. “Maybe this was Akira’s wish? Or maybe it’s just the way of the universe balancing things out.”

The cat lifts its head up, staring up at Yusuke intensely. It blinks once, then again, and tilts its head to the side. Yusuke can almost imagine the smirk on Akira’s pretty lips.

“If it’s just for a day...” Yusuke murmurs, a corner of his mouth twitching slightly when he reaches down to pet the cat some more and it unabashedly licks at his fingers, tongue rough yet ticklish. “Then better make the most of it.”

“Futaba-chan,” Morgana grins mischievously, stepping closer to her as she side-eyes him suspiciously, “you’re still learning to be human too, aren’t ya?”

“Eh? ‘s that s’posed to mean? I’ve always been human.”

“Yeah, but like, a functioning one.”

“Tch, rude!” She chops at his head, turning her back to him with puffed up cheeks. “But I guess you’re not wrong.”

“So maybe we could both go out and do fun stuff.”

The cat turns to the two with wide eyes, looking a little panicked for the first time since Yusuke arrived, and it seems to be what finally convinces Futaba that, perhaps, this really is happening, the brotherly concern in that near expressionless expression solidifying it once and for all. As Yusuke soothingly rubs at the cat’s back, Futaba smiles reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, Joker, you’ve taught me well. It’s my turn to take care of someone else now. You can let yourself be taken care of too!” Futaba stares into Yusuke’s eyes, pointing a finger at his face. “Inari, I will leave him in your hands. If anything happens, I will have your tail.”

Chuckling, Yusuke nods calmly, reaching for the sketchbook Akira had insisted on buying for the times he comes over, in case inspiration strikes unexpectedly. “I will protect him with my life.”

“Good. All right, Mona. We’re going on an adventure!”

“Kya! Awesome!” The other pumps his fists in the air a little too excitedly, startling Akira out of Yusuke’s lap for a few beats.

Yusuke takes the opportunity to settle into a more appropriate position at the head of the bed, back against the wall and sketchbook propped on one of his legs. Once Futaba and Morgana leave, taking the racket with them, Akira saunters closer once again, draping himself over Yusuke’s other leg, as if trapping him there so he can move nowhere.

With an amused breath, Yusuke picks up a pencil, giving him a few pets before diving into his art, wondering if he can capture Akira’s smile while he cannot quite look at it the way he is used to. But then again, he has committed it to memory at this point.

#persona 5 #shukita #sakura futaba #morgana #shenanigans #gift #just a silly little thing #tell you're a wonderful human being #hope you like it as short and dumb as it is

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samarecharm · 5 months

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Bouncing off my bi ryuji awakening post, im gonna add these tags from it: (separated to make it easier to read)

[#anyway. akira is the guy ever. and ryuji is exploding#‘i have died. badly’#i like thinking of akira like this; hes ryujis first exposure to nb ppl and gnc adjacent stuff#even if akira is p masc by most standards hes still got a bit of. aloofness. about his gender stuffs#ryuji is just really into the way akira carries himself#and it takes him a while to go oh. oh i think its cause i like this dude#um.#😳.

#also i wanted to clarify#but ryujis mom just doesnt know Who akira is in that picture#and in my head hes like. looking down at mona and petting him (while sitting)#(AND hes with ann and theyre both kind of a distance away from the camera)#so at a quick glance; hes just Some Girl#and even though shes wrong; it kicks off the mental chaos olympics in ryujis head#‘what hes not a girl’ to ‘where would she even get that from’ to ‘well akira said himself he didnt rlly care what ppl thought about it’#to ‘well. where DID she get that from?’ to lookin at what his homie does a little closer to ‘aw fuck. man.��#but i love that for him

#ALSO. RYU/GORO IN TAGS…..#but ryuji going oh my GOD oh my godddd 😨😓😓😓 when something clicks in his head about goro#his voice is so practiced and naturally softspoken and his public facing persona is very demure#and once he gets past the initial anger over goro being a pompous prick who shittalks about the thieves. hes like. god fucking dammit.#There Is A Pattern and A Type He Has and Its Killing Him To Realize it.#hes literally sitting in his room w his head in his hands]

Ryuji definitely finds Conventionally Attractive Girls pretty, but he realizes around postgame that he genuinely formed crushes on THREE people; Akira, Makoto, and Goro. And all three of them are people who carry themselves as a bit Soft and Delicate (akira and makoto w their personality and mannerisms, goro w his appearance) while also being deceptively strong. Yusuke WOULD fit into this but hes only strong in the metaverse. Also if u tried to argue that he still finds yusuke pretty, Ryuji would just say ‘yeah duh? Of course???’ and would not elaborate further.

I just think. Its cute 👉🏾👈🏾 Ryuji loves someone whos pretty and capable of knocking him flat on his ass lmao He LOVES a challenge and he likes that they can all challenge him in different ways.

Akira is way stronger than he looks; hes very toned and he used to be quite active before being shipped off to tokyo. And after fighting in the metaverse, hes gotten way better at using an enemies mass and momentum against them. Yeah he can properly knock someone down, but its way easier to let Ryuji charge him and use that momentum to sweep and pin. Which Ryuji remembers vividly for Weeks. Akira is not allowed to spar w him and Makoto for awhile after that.

Makoto is just strong as hell. But shes very defensive, and extremely patient. ‘Ill wait and see before I decide What to do’. Shes got good reaction timing and its hard to catch her offguard. Its very difficult to disorient her so oftentimes, his spars w her are more about endurance. And if he ASKS her to do so, she’ll actually fight him back. He never wins 😭 but she is very patient w him and she doesnt treat him like an idiot. She likes to give him tips and redirect his strengths to make up for his weaknesses and it makes him a bit warm in this chest

Spars w Goro are just fun. Theyre fun! Goro is way more aggressive and reckless than Makoto and Akira. He is looking for openings near constantly and Ryuji has to either keep up or tank hits. Its very. Engaging. For him. Sometimes he loses and Goro is giving him a look so smug, Ryuji wishes he could kick him in his fucking teeth (something he clearly couldnt do bc hes already been knocked flat on his ass). And sometimes he wins, and hes so shocked and HAPPY about it; he doesnt miss the way Goro looks away from him pouting like a brat (‘no fucking way are u POUTING man, what a sore loser 😭’). Goro and his uptight personality is thrown out the window completely and its so fun and refreshing to see. Hes tall and imposing w broad shoulders and toned arms and if Ryuji is staring, he finds himself immediately distracted when Goros cheerful, softspoken voice asks if hes willing to go another round.

I love it 👉🏾👈🏾 Ryujis got a complicated relationship w violence but it helps to have people he trusts engage with it in a way that doesnt make him feel like some brute. Theyre all kind of itching to beat the shit out of things for multiple reasons, but instead of taking that out on each other, they spend time training one another so that they can beat the shit out of OTHER things better. Its an efficient system 😊

#chattin #i dunno how to tag it; dont wanna add ships in here bc theres not alot of NonPego/ryu fans in the pego/ryu tag lol #but ye. ryuji likes a pretty face and he likes getting his ass whooped sometimes #i mean he likes to fight and WIN; he is not trying to roll over like a defenseless tortoise #but he likes the deception a little bit….#what do u mean ur shitty shirt or sweater is hiding those arms ??? what do u mean u can bench more than ur own weight????#its insane.#its a little 😳#also oops i am writing essays in tags again. i will continue to do this im sorry #i just have so many thoughts that dont feel like they fit in the body lol #my approach to the thieves is . they are very angry and prone to violence and violent thoughts #and they have an questionable outlet w the metaverse #BUT #if the metaverse was to poof away; where does that outlet go?#and thats the foundation for my idea of their ‘found-ish family’#i HATE the actual family stereotype but i am thinking of like #they are bonded in a specific and unique way #and they stick together because of it. no one will understand them as much as they understand each other #i know i mentioned only the four of them #but i am thinking of ALL of them #they are a little gang of their own now lmao if u mess w one u mess w the rest of the hounds #and they all have some warped perspectives on good and ‘evil’ and justice #maybe the others arent as readily capable to physically hurt someone. but they are more than okay with bad and cruel things happening-#-to bad people.#anyway. this post was about ryuji having a thing about getting roughhoused bc hes a rowdy boy #i can see it being something ann teases him about #and definitely as they get older its something that just doesnt leave him. his brain has already made the Connections #i love my homies they beat the shit out of me when i ask them to and vice versa 😊#naw theyre not really HURTING each other that bad #but its the idea of it 👀 like look at me bearing my weaknesses to u so you can make me a better person

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dirtyhelen · 4 years

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mess me up (yeah, no one does it better)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Explicit (18+) Featuring: Smut; Established Relationship; Daddy Kink; Dirty Talk; Pet Names; Briefly Implied Past Rape/Non-Con (Not of Reader)*, Blowjob; Cock Slapping (As In Slapping Your Face); Grinding; Facial; Vaginal Fingering; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Aftercare Words: 6249 Summary: This is why you love this particular game. It’s Bucky’s ability to clear your mind of everything – anxiety and insecurity and shame – until all that’s left is him. Until all you want, all you need, is to please him. When you’re overwhelmed with the stress of just existing – all the choices, all the consequences – he makes it simple. A/N: Please mind the tags, and see the end-note for a more detailed warning of the Past Rape/Non-Con tag if you would like to know before reading... “Is the smut sexy or just long and extremely vulgar?” A question I asked myself often while writing this, that you may also be asking yourself while reading. If you find the answer, feel free to let me know ‘cause I’m still not sure! Title from Make Me Feel by Janelle Monae. ________________________________________________________________

“On your knees, bunny,” Bucky orders, his voice soft. You sink obediently down to the pillow laid out for you on the floor, resting your hands on your thighs as you look up at him expectantly.

Bucky looms over you, knows just how to use his size to his advantage, seeming to fill every inch of the room until he’s all you can see. He stands tall, fully clothed still, and you feel vulnerable kneeling naked at his feet. Entirely at his mercy. With your eyes locked on his, neck craning at the angle required, you hear more than see his hands go to his belt buckle. There’s metal on metal as the clasp is undone, then the slide of leather through denim belt loops, then the thwack as it’s tossed to the floor, just outside your periphery. Next you hear the release of a button and the achingly slow drag of a zipper being undone until finally, it’s skin on skin. Your mouth waters and your breathing quickens in anticipation of what’s to come. You’re dying to look down where you know Bucky will have drawn his cock out of his jeans, no underwear on a night like this, but you know better than to look away with his eyes still on yours. You’re rewarded for your obedience with a smile, soft and genuine, sending a rush of warmth through your body and a flood of slick to your cunt. God, he hasn’t even done anything yet and you’re already desperate. For his approval, for his touch, for his attention. Anything he’s willing to give you. You’re already sinking into that place where nothing matters except him, except pleasing him. Stepping forward, Bucky gives you a nod, signaling it’s okay for you to drop his gaze and immediately your eyes fall to look at his right hand gripping his cock, stroking it lightly just inches from your face. You watch him reverently, mouth opening almost reflexively. Bucky angles his cock toward you, tracing the head along your lips, pre-cum smearing over your mouth like lipgloss. You can’t help but reach out your tongue for a taste but you realize your error when Bucky pulls away, followed by the swift, sharp strike of his cock against your cheek. You gasp at the shock of it, but slick seeps from your opening at the same time. Bucky tuts at you, eyebrow raised. “Did I give you permission to lick my cock?” he asks, holding his length firmly against the side of your face. You feel the hard, heavy weight of it, feel it pulse in time with Bucky’s heartbeat, a steady throb against your cheek. Your own heart starts to race, and you shake your head. “No, daddy, you didn’t give me permission.” “That’s right, bunny.” Bucky repeats the move, slapping his cock against your cheeks in fast, firm smacks. “Good girls are patient. Good girls wait for permission before opening their pretty little mouths for cock.” He punctuates each sentence with another slap. By the time he’s finished your cheeks are slick with trails of pre-cum, glistening in the low light of the room. Bucky smears it around, rubbing it into your skin with the tip of his cock before he tucks himself back into his jeans. It’s vulgar. It’s degrading. You love it. But it’s supposed to be a punishment so you try to look contrite. “I’m sorry, daddy. I’m a good girl, I promise,” you apologize, voice pitched breathy and eyes wide and innocent. You clasp your hands primly in your lap as though you’re not kneeling naked on the floor with your pussy soaking wet. “Sorry, huh?” You nod. “You’re a good girl?” You nod again, almost frantically this time. Bucky pauses and you watch as his expression hardens. He lets the silence hang heavy in the air for a moment or two, leaving you off-kilter and scrambling a little. Letting suspense build until it’s almost fear before he speaks again. “Then why’re squirming around like that?” He nods down at your thighs and you hadn’t realized you’ve been clenching them together and rocking just a little in a sloppy rhythm – trying to get some pressure against your aching clit. You hadn’t realized, but Bucky had. Nothing happens here that he doesn’t notice. You might feel selfish for it. For putting all the power and responsibility in Bucky’s hands so you can just let go. But it works exactly because it’s not all about you. Bucky needs this just as much, probably even more. Hydra took his agency away from him. Took everything from him, body and mind, made him a weapon to be used and a toy to be played with without ever giving him a say in the matter. But here, he gets to set the rules. Gets to decide what happens to his body: what it does, when it’s touched, and how. And here, there are consequences when those rules are broken. He would never, never hurt you the way Hydra hurt him, but this game – and that’s what this is, a game you play together, where everyone knows the rules and agrees to them, where you can stop anytime – allows him to take ownership of his body in a way he never could with them, allows him to reclaim his body. It’s the ultimate expression of trust for you both. You trust each other to set boundaries and keep to them; you trust each other enough to lay bare the most vulnerable parts of yourselves, knowing the end result is so, so worth it. Bucky lets your heartrate ratchet up for another few seconds then kneels down so you’re face-to-face, leaning in close. “You don’t look very sorry. Not much like a good girl at all.” He shakes his head, the picture of authoritative disappointment. “No, bunny. You look like a slut.” He says it so easy, voice soft and low like he’s casually telling you good morning or asking how your day was. It sends a shiver running down your spine and you can’t help the whimper that rises up from your throat. Bucky’s eyes flash before his expression shifts from cultivated blankness into a mockery of your own, exaggerated pout and furrowed brows. “Aw, poor little bunny,” he coos, sticky sweet. “Just can’t help it can you? So desperate for daddy’s cock – in your mouth, in your cunt.” You nod eagerly. “Can’t help sneaking a taste, can’t help wiggling around like a whore. That right?” Your throat is dry and it feels like there’s not enough air in your lungs but you manage to gasp out a response. “Yes, daddy. Want it so bad, please.” Bucky hums thoughtfully, like he’s considering something. He lifts a hand to cup your cheek and you lean into his touch. “We both want the same thing, sweetheart. You want my cock and I wanna give it to you. Wanna fuck your pretty mouth before I fuck your pretty pussy.” His thump strokes over your bottom lip and you let out a quiet moan. Bucky lets his hand drop, standing up and looming over you once more as he tucks himself back into his jeans. “But daddy wants all his baby’s attention when she’s sucking his cock. And I’m not gonna get that if you’re too busy thinking about that drippy little hole between your legs am I, bunny?” You’re so desperate to take his cock – anywhere he wants to put it – that you almost protest, insist you can ignore the heat in your core and focus only on him, but you know he’s right so you settle on a resigned, “No, daddy,” instead, not sure where this is leading. Bucky’s face softens and you know you’ve chosen the correct response. “That’s right, baby. So daddy’s gonna be real sweet and let you get yourself off before he lets you suck his cock.” Almost instantly your hand is falling to your folds, fingers ready to start circling your clit. You’re so worked up it’ll only take a few minutes and then you’ll get to take Bucky’s cock in your mouth, make him feel good. Get to hear all those deep moans and breathy sighs. Feel his cock pulse on your tongue as he comes, bitter and hot down your throat. You’re stopped in your tracks, fingers just brushing through the hair framing your cunt, by the cool grip of Bucky’s metal hand, curled around your jaw and squeezing just a little. You look up to see his eyes, cool and unimpressed, on yours. “Uh-uh-uh. I wasn’t finished. So impatient tonight, bunny. I should take you over my knee for that. I will, if you move again without my permission,” he warns. “Do you understand?” You do your best to nod with his hand still gripping your jaw. “I said you could get off. I didn’t say you could use your hands.” You frown, confused, and let out a quizzical little whine. Bucky chuckles, metal thumb stroking your cheek before he moves to sit on the bed, settling himself against the headboard and leaving you kneeling on the floor facing him. He spreads his legs, patting the space between them with a smile and you stand, ready to settle yourself between his legs, but still unsure what he wants. His next order, spoken as you’re about to lift one knee onto the bed, makes that clear. “Don’t forget the pillow.” Your mouth drops open as your face fills with heat at the implication. You’ve touched yourself in front of Bucky before – with fingers and toys alike – so many times you feel no shame in it anymore. But this is different. Obscene in a way riding a toy designed for the purpose somehow isn’t. Embarrassing. Like you’re so desperate you’ll grind against anything, even the same pillow you rest your head on at night. You know that’s why Bucky’s chosen this particular method. That’s the whole point of this game for you, really. To take you to a place where shame and self-consciousness cease to exist. Where all that’s left is pleasure, yours and his, and you’d do anything to get it. And he’s so good at getting you there. Breaking you down with filthy words and calculated demands. Getting you so needy that you can finally let go and just obey because you know – because you trust – that Bucky will only lead you to pleasure. Feeling a fresh rush of slick coating your folds, you grab the pillow and settle yourself in the space Bucky’s left between his legs, facing him. You fold the pillow between your thighs, gripping one end in your hands, the other between your feet, holding it taut so there’s some tension to grind down against. But you don’t make contact yet. Bucky notices your hesitation and urges you on. “Come on, bunny. Daddy wants to see you hop.” His voice is gentle but stern and you know an order when you hear one. Face hot and heart pounding, you spread your thighs, lowering yourself until there’s no space between your cunt and the pillow, soft cotton pressed tight against your slick, heated flesh. It’s so soft, barely any real pressure at all, but after all the buildup and with Bucky’s undivided attention on you, the friction on your clit is almost intoxicating and you start a slow, stuttering grind, eyes slipping shut. “Good girl,” he tells you, voice rough, as you fall into a long, dragging rhythm. You open your eyes to find his gaze fixed between your legs, his cheeks flushed pink. Your own face burns from the praise, and the motion of your hips increases until you’re grinding in short thrusts, as fast as your body will allow. “That’s it, bunny. Fuck, look at you. Fucking desperate, huh?” His hand squeezes over the bulge in his jeans and you moan at the sight but can’t summon the energy to respond to his question, all your efforts tied up in the relentless grind of your clit against the pillow. He’s right though, you are desperate, or getting there at least. You’re so close, so wet the pillowcase must be soaked through, but it’s not enough. Not enough friction to really get you off. Just enough to frustrate, to tease at the possibility of an orgasm. You want it – need it – so badly, not just for you but for Bucky. He told you to come like this and you want nothing more than to do what he says but you can’t. Your thighs are getting tired and it feels like you’ve reached a plateau of sensation, somehow under and overstimulated at once. Your legs will give out before you ever get close enough to come. The frustration of it all, worse – the idea of disappointing Bucky – has tears gathering in your eyes and you let out a keening whine you know must sound utterly pathetic as your movement stutters to a stop. “I can’t. Daddy, I can’t,” you whimper, tears spilling over as you admit defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m so close, but I can’t.” Bucky’s face softens immediately, genuine this time, not mocking. He’s an expert at this by now, knows the difference between tears of pleasure and tears of frustration. Knows when to be push and when to be gentle, and how to walk the fine line in between. He leans forward, pulling you off the pillow and into his arms. “Hush, baby, it’s okay. Don’t gotta apologize,” he soothes, pressing kisses to your cheeks and stroking his hands over your sides as you sniffle and curl into his embrace. He kisses his way to your mouth, chaste and tender as you calm down. When you’re limp and pliant in his lap he deepens the kiss, tongue forcing your mouth open and slipping inside. His hands start to move higher with each upstroke on your sides until he’s cupping your breasts, fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. He works you up again until your hips are shifting, rocking down on nothing. Bucky breaks the kiss, leaning back to look at your face, your lips swollen and pupils blown wide. “Ready to try again?” he asks, knowing what the answer will be. “Yes please, daddy.” “I’ll help you this time, then. No shame in needing daddy’s help to get off, is there, bunny?” You shake your head in agreement, mind running wild with possibilities. Bucky tugs off his shirt then gestures for you to move back as he stands up to take off his jeans as well. When he’s completely nude he sits back down on his heels, knees spread, and pats his thigh the same way he’d patted the bed earlier, gesturing you to climb on. “That pillow wasn’t enough was it, baby? Nah, you need something harder to rub that soft little pussy against.” He pats his thigh again and you shift to straddle it. his hands clamp around your waist and he tugs you down until the slick, swollen folds of your cunt are pressed directly against the bare skin of his thigh. He groans, deep and low. “Fucking dripping, bunny. Fuck. Come on, make a mess on daddy’s leg,” he coaxes, tensing his muscles, really giving you something firm to grind down on. You start rocking your hips again and it’s so much better this time. Less friction now it’s skin on skin with your slick easing the way, but more pressure. Bucky grips your hips, taking some of your weight and helping you move and it’s intense. Your own hands are wrapped around his neck, head tossed back as you gasp and moan. His thigh is hot between yours and the drag of your clit against firm muscle has you quickly hurtling toward a mind-blowing orgasm. Bucky mouths at your neck, licking and sucking at the tender skin. You start grinding faster and your face heats at the filthy wet noise of it, slick and obscene, but it spurs you on as much as it embarrasses you. “That’s it, baby,” Bucky encourages and you can feel his cock, hard against your thigh. “Doing so good, so fucking good for daddy. Got me so hard, bunny. Can’t wait for you to come so I can fuck your pretty little mouth.” Bucky keeps talking, mouth running with every dirty thought that pops into his head, pushing you closer and closer to coming until you’re nearly there. You can tell he knows you’re about to come when you go silent, breath caught in your throat as though your body suddenly can’t perform its most basic functions until it’s given some release. His fingers dig deeper into your skin, hard enough to bruise as he drags you faster over his thigh. “Come on, that’s it. Wanna see you come all over me, bunny. Come for me. Come for daddy,” he orders and you’re helpless to obey. The breath you’ve been holding leaves you in a broken moan as your hips buck uncontrollably, cunt clenching on nothing. Bucky holds you through it, loosening his grip on your hips as you pant into his neck, but he shifts you off his lap before you can come down completely, just rough enough to startle you back to attention. He presses you back into the bed and licks into your mouth, dirty and deep, grinding his erection into your thigh and you’re reminded that he hasn’t come yet. You suck on his tongue a little, a sloppy approximation of what you’re going to do to his cock and he moans into your mouth before pulling away. “Fucking insatiable. My leg’s still wet from your cunt but you’re already begging for my cock in your mouth. Don’t worry, bunny, you’re gonna get it.” Bucky gets off the bed, moving to stand at the foot. You turn around until you face him, on elbows and knees. Bucky gives you a nod. “Go on, get started.” Permission granted you finally get your mouth on his cock. He lets you take it slow at first, keeps his hands at his sides as you lick up his length and around the head, dipping down occasionally to mouth at his balls. His deep, heavy breaths and rasping groans when you do something particularly good are all the encouragement you need, sending little shocks of pleasure through you with each new sound you pull from him. When you’re ready you take him into your mouth, working up into a careful rhythm and gliding a hand over what you can’t fit inside. Bucky holds your face in his hand, thumb pressing in just a little to feel his cock through your cheek every now and then. You can tell he’s had enough of the slow and steady when his hands move up into your hair. He pulls you off his cock and before he can ask if you’re ready your mouth is open wide, tongue held out and head angled for entry. You feel his fingers clench in your hair, just this side of painful. The metal hand moves to grip his cock and he slaps it against your tongue a couple times – you’re reminded of how that felt against your face and you’re tempted to disobey so you can feel it again – before guiding it into your mouth. Then he’s fucking into you, hands in your hair, moving your head back and forth along his cock like a toy as his hips thrust in time. “You were made for this, bunny. Made to take my cock like this. So good for me.” You moan at the praise, at the heat it sends to your core, and Bucky thrusts harder in response to the vibration. Rough as he is, and moving faster and faster as he nears orgasm, he’s careful to only give you what you can take, never going too far and forcing you to gag or choke. The pleasure is in your submission, not your discomfort, and he never forgets it. You know he’s close when he’s moaning on nearly every stroke and his rhythm starts to stutter. You double your efforts, hollowing your cheeks and licking around his length, eager for a mouthful of cum, for the physical evidence that you’ve succeeded in pleasing him, but Bucky tugs you off his cock before you can get what you want. Confused, you look up at his face to see him breathing heavy, bringing himself back under control and steeling his expression into something stern, even with his lips bitten red and his cheeks flushed. He squeezes at the base of his cock as he stares down at you. “Not gonna come in your mouth tonight, sweetheart, so don’t bother pouting about it. Lie down on your back,” he orders and you’re quick to comply, rolling over and shuffling back until your head is propped up on the pillows against the headboard. Bucky follows, kneeling over your body, straddling your chest with his cock angled toward your mouth. You spread your lips, presenting your mouth to be fucked but Bucky doesn’t press in, stroking himself instead. “I’m gonna come all over your face,” he says. “And you’re gonna thank me for it like a good girl, isn’t that right?” The thought of it, the idea of Bucky marking you that way, dirty and wrong and everything you’re not supposed to want – everything you only want with him – it sends a jolt of heat all through your body to settle in your clit with a throb. Has you garbling out some unintelligible whimper in response as your eyes stay glued to the way his hand moves in practiced motions around his length. Bucky chuckles above you and you manage to tear your eyes away from his cock to catch the look of dark amusement on his face. “What was that, baby? Gotta speak up. Or is my little bunny too cock-drunk to think straight?” “I want it,” you manage to gasp out. Your face burns with humiliation that only serves to make you more desperate as you plead. “Please, daddy, want you to come on my face. Mark me up, make me yours.” You see the effect your unusually bold words have on Bucky in the brief flash of heated shock on his face and the way his hand falters in its movement over his cock before picking up again faster. He leans in over you, metal hand gripping the headboard so hard you’re sure you can hear it creaking, right hand working his cock, fast and firm as he races toward orgasm. You feel utterly surrounded by him, thick thighs pressed in against your sides, torso curved over you. He’s all you can see, all you can hear – the wet sound of his hand on his spit-slicked cock, the panting breaths and uttered curses. Then he’s coming with a long, low moan and you feel it, hitting your face in hot, wet spurts. You gasp at the sensation and another thick rope lands across your lips, dripping into your mouth all salty and bitter as you swallow it down. Bucky strokes himself through his orgasm until every last drop is squeezed out of his cock and onto your face, until you feel truly covered in it, marked up just like you asked for. Spent, for the moment at least, Bucky slides down your body until he’s straddling your hips instead of your sides and takes a good, long look at his work. Your face is striped white with cum, all over your cheeks and chin. You make a little show of licking your lips, gathering up the drops there and swallowing with a smile. “Thank you, daddy.” “We’re not done yet, bunny. You wanted daddy to make a mess on your face, now you gotta clean it up,” Bucky says, and you whimper as he drags two fingers through the mess on your cheek, scooping cum onto his fingers and pushing them past your lips. You suck on his fingers instinctively, working your tongue around and between them, licking up every drop. He repeats the process, fucking your mouth with his fingers, pressing his cum into your tongue, until your face is nearly clean again. You smile around your last mouthful, opening wide to show Bucky there’s nothing left. He grins, filthy and sharp, then leans in and spits into your open mouth. You swallow that too and then he kisses you, dirty and deep, tasting himself on your tongue. “Good girl,” he whispers against your lips. He pulls back, shifting to lie between your thighs, and presses his lips to yours again, breaking off to kiss along your neck and shoulder, licking into the hollow of your throat and feeling your pulse flutter against his tongue. Before you know it you’re rolling your hips up against Bucky’s, your body remembering his promise to fuck your cunt once he’d finished fucking your face (you send up a silent thanks for supersoldier stamina). You feel him smirk against your mouth, grinding down against you a couple times, letting you feel his cock getting hard against your thigh. “Feeling neglected, baby? Messy little cunt getting lonely, all wet and warm with nothing to fill it, huh?” You nod with a needy hum and Bucky’s sitting up, hand sliding down your belly and combing through wiry hair to cup the whole of your pussy in his palm. You keen, rocking up against him as he shushes you, pushing two thick fingers into you at once. Immediately you’re grinding down on them with a moan, trying to coax him to move inside you, curl his fingers into your g-spot, something, anything. But quick as that his fingers are gone and you feel the sharp shock of a warning slap on the inside of your thigh. Once again, Bucky’s metal hand grips your chin, keeping your eyes on his face as his right hand moves back to your cunt. “Who does this belong to?” he asks, voice glacially cold, tapping his fingers against your opening but not pressing inside. “You, daddy. It belongs to you,” you manage, though his hand keeps its hold on your jaw. “That’s right, bunny. Daddy owns this sloppy little hole.” His fingers start to move in circles, smearing slick around your hole with soft, wet noises. “Daddy decides when it gets fucked—” He pushes in just the tips of his fingers. “—and filled.” He slides in hard, immediately finding your g-spot and rubbing against it roughly. “And little bunnies,” he says over the rising sounds of your gasps and moans, “take what they’re given and say thank you.” He punctuates the last two words with particularly firm thrusts against your g-spot and you cry out, high and breathless. “Th-thank you,” you gasp and he adds a third finger, scissoring them inside you, opening you up for his cock. His fingers move at a relentless pace, pounding into your g-spot, ratcheting you higher and higher. But he purposely avoids even the slightest touch to your clit, keeping your orgasm maddeningly just out of reach. He keeps at it until you’re writhing in his grip, wordless pleas falling from your lips with every breath, so close it’s almost too much. And then it’s nothing at all, sensation gone as Bucky’s fingers pull out in a swift drag, replaced by the wide head of his cock. His metal hand falls from your face and he shifts, using it to hold himself up as he leans in over you again, right hand guiding his tip to rest just inside your cunt. Bucky catches your eye, holding your gaze as he enters you in a single, long thrust. Even with the work of his fingers to open you up you can feel the stretch of his cock, thick and long, filling you up until you’re certain you can feel him in your belly. He holds still, giving you time to adjust. Or maybe – if the expression on his face is anything to go by – trying to hold off coming too quickly himself. “Fuck,” he groans. “So tight. Should keep you on my cock all day, bunny. Just a wet hole to come in whenever I want.” You whimper at the thought and Bucky takes up a steady pace with long, deep thrusts. “Sounds good, huh? You want that? Wanna sit on daddy’s cock all day, keep it nice and warm in your little pussy?” “Oh, God,” you moan, picturing it – sitting on his lap with his cock buried deep in your pussy while he goes about his day. Maybe filling out a mission report or just reading a book. Ignoring you completely, treating you like an object, a sentient fuckdoll just there to keep his cock warm and catch his cum when he feels like getting off. “Yes, daddy, please. Whatever you want.” “That’s right, baby, whatever I want. And if I wanna bounce you on my cock like a fucking toy – just a fleshlight with tits – until I come in that tight cunt that’s what I’ll do.” His hips pick up speed as he pounds into you, angling to hit against your g-spot on every thrust. “Should fill you up and make you walk around with a pussy full of cum. Stuff you so full it drips down your legs for everyone to see, show ‘em just who you belong to.” Bucky’s hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding their way to your clit and rubbing in tight, firm circles. It’s exactly what you need, what you’ve been dying for, and with his cock hammering against your g-spot it only takes a few moments and you’re coming hard, white hot heat exploding through your body as you clench down on Bucky’s cock in pulses. “That’s it,” he encourages. “Good girl. Feels so good, bunny, fuck. Squeezing me so tight.” His fingers stop circling your clit but he keeps up the pounding rhythm of his cock, slowing down only enough so you’re not too oversensitive. You’re so wet you can hear it with each sharp thrust, feel it dripping down your ass and surely making a mess of the bedsheets. As you come down from your orgasm Bucky’s pace picks up again, fucking you into the mattress brutally hard as he chases his own pleasure. It has you getting close again, though you really don’t think you can handle another orgasm. As if reading your thoughts Bucky starts touching your clit again, light and unhurried. “Want you to come on my cock again, sweetheart.” You whine, a weak protest. “I can’t, I c—” you begin but it’s cut off by a moan when Bucky’s fingers press firmer against you. “Yes you can, bunny. One more time. Just one more for daddy. You’ve got one more in you, I know you do.” You can feel tears gathering in your eyes again from the onslaught of sensation. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm and Bucky’s fingers on your clit, his cock battering your g-spot – it’s overwhelming, too much – but he pushes you forward and you give in. To Bucky, to the feelings coursing through your body. You let your mind shut off, let your trust in him take over. If Bucky says you have another one in you then you do, you must, because Bucky would never lie to you, would never lead you astray. It’s that – love and trust and submission to Bucky’s higher power – just as much as his hands on your body that triggers one final, all-consuming orgasm. It breaks over you like a wave, something more than just pleasure, sweeping you away from your body, from the bed, into a place where it’s all sensation, leaving you hazy and raw, splayed-open. You can hear Bucky’s voice close to your ear, dragging you back to him with broken utterances of fuck and good girl and your name, over and over. You come back to the world just as his rhythm begins to falter. A handful of thrusts later and he’s coming, pulling one last aftershock of pleasure from you at the feeling of his cock pulsing as he fills you up with cum, shooting deep into your cunt. After, he nearly collapses on top of you, settling his weight over your body as he pants into the curve between your neck and shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin, whispering sweet nothings. All good girl and did so well for me and I love you. You bask in the afterglow for a while – in the comforting weight of Bucky’s body and the warm affection in every word he breathes against your skin – until you become too aware of the tenderness between your thighs and the stickiness of sweat cooling on your body. You start to squirm and Bucky lets up gradually, giving you space but keeping you close enough you don’t feel abandoned. He strokes over your skin, pressing his lips to your face in increasingly wet, smacking kisses until you’re giggling and shoving him away. He sits up, flashing you a cheeky grin, and begins his process of surveying your body, checking carefully for any bruises or abrasions, and kneading at tense muscles. You don’t always feel like you need this part – it’s rare that Bucky allows himself to lose control enough to leave marks – but it’s nice, relaxing after the high energy of this kind of sex. And more importantly in your opinion, though you know Bucky would argue, Bucky needs it. Just as he needs to be in control and take charge, he also needs to know he can be soft and tender afterward, something Hydra never allowed him to be, and certainly never showed him. By the time he’s finished you feel boneless and sleepy, finding it harder and harder to open your eyes after blinking. Bucky chuckles, warm and fond. “Not yet, bunny. Want you to use the bathroom first and drink a glass of water for me.” You wave a hand vaguely in his direction – a silent yeah, yeah, yeah. You can’t see him, having given in to the weight dragging your eyelids down, but you can practically feel his eyeroll. You can definitely hear the scoff he lets out. “You wanna get a UTI be my guest, but you’re drinking the god damn water.” You feel him kiss your forehead then the mattress shifts as he gets off the bed. You relax into the space, stretching out your arms and legs and listening to Bucky move around your apartment – a cupboard door opening then the tap running in the kitchen. Distantly you can tell he’s come back to the room and set a glass down on the bedside table but you’re too lazy to open your eyes or acknowledge him. Then something wet hits you squarely in the face and, with a shout, you’re yanked from your peaceful doze to find Bucky’s just tossed a warm washcloth at you. “What the fuck,” you splutter as he openly laughs at you, the asshole. “Thought this was supposed to be aftercare, you dick.” “It is,” he says, grabbing the washcloth from where it’d fallen next to you. “Now let me wash your face, dummy, you’ve got cum on your chin.” “Yeah, wonder how that got there,” you mutter darkly. Bucky chuckles, giving you a dry look as he softly runs the cloth over your skin. “Seem to recall someone begging for it not too long ago. ‘Mark me up, daddy,’” he imitates in a ridiculous, breathy falsetto and you can’t help but laugh at his – horrible, completely inaccurate (you hope) – imitation, even as your face burns in embarrassment. Finished with your face, Bucky takes another washcloth (one he didn’t hurl at your face) and begins to clean up the rest of your body, running it over your chest and belly, your arms and legs, and finally between your thighs, taking special care to be gentle there. He stands up, collecting the washcloths and heading to the bathroom to do his own cleaning up. “When I get back that water better be gone, bunny.” You roll your eyes at him but pick up the glass all the same and take a showy mouthful, earning yourself a patented Bucky Barnes wink in return. “Good girl.” When Bucky returns the glass is empty and you feel awake enough to drag yourself from the bed and into the bathroom. As you re-enter the room you find Bucky has changed the sheets with his usual military efficiency and neatness and is settled in bed on his side, covers thrown back over yours with your favourite pajamas laid out on top. With a probably grotesquely fond smile in his direction you put on your pajamas and get under the covers, lying on your side and facing him. He pulls you closer, resting one arm over your waist to keep you near as you exchange easy, lazy kisses for a while, drifting off, feeling warm and safe and loved. +++ You’re nearly asleep, in the hazy place where waking thoughts mix with dreams when a thought pops into your head that you can’t help but voice, slurred and sleep-drunk. “I can’t believe you called me a ‘fleshlight with tits’.” Bucky barks out a drowsy laugh. “Too much?” You shrug or try to, at least, though you’re not sure how much your sluggish body actually cooperates. “Nah, I liked it. We’re good.” “Okay, good,” he mumbles around a yawn. “Love you.” “Love you too.” A/N: *It’s briefly implied that Bucky was sexually abused by Hydra as well as used as an assassin. Nothing is explicitly described, it’s just part of a brief explanation as to why Bucky sometimes likes to take a dominant role during sex. THE END. So… If you have made it this far, thank you for reading! Holy shit this got longer than I thought it’d be and Jesus Christ this is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written, let alone posted on the internet to be seen by strangers! Feel free to leave like/comment/reblog and let me know what you thought 😊

#bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #mcu #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes #smut #oneshot

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alias-b · 3 years

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sins of my youth. 019

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hey everyone!! I know it's been quieter around here, but enjoy the chapter I hope! Sort of sweet filler. Billy nurses a hungover Evie back to life as they reach a common ground with their relationship. Evie returns to school as the new Keg King. Chp title is after that Depeche Mode song. TW: Light light mention of a past r*pe/abuse & Pica. Smut!!

***My tag list is wide open, just shoot me a msg to join it! Chat with me about the chapter if you have the time! Enjoy! xoxo

Chapter 19: One Caress

Death. Hot, swampy death. Somehow mixed with frigid chills.

Evie cracked her eyes to light and moaned. Loud enough to wake the body spread on his back next to her. Billy spied her. Curls spiraling endless directions. Knotted all over.

Face pressed into the pillows, Evie held her thudding brain. Figured it might be unspooling around a cracked skull. There was movement as Billy reached over her to pull the curtains further closed and block the early morning sun.

“You seriously woke up at seven with that bad a hangover. Figured you’d sleep in longer. Must be a pride thing.” Billy hummed and draped his arm over her. Casual as can be to tuck back in. He made this rumbling sound into her shoulder blade and sighed out.

Evie realized finally she wasn’t alone and scrambled up, almost tumbling over the bottom edge of the bed if Billy hadn't snatched her wrist.

“Easy!” Came the sharp hiss. “Take a moment to remember last night if you can.” Brown eyes squinted to blink at him. Blurring the gold honey of him together. Billy made a face. “Jesus, you’re looking at me like I’m taking a dump here, Evangeline.”

“Oh, jeez,” Evie fisted her curls so he let go. Her eyes began to dart, finding the events and piecing them. Little by little. “Jesus Dolly Parton Christ.”

“That’s some poetry I like.” Billy reclined, covered in a loose sheet looking his insufferable cupid self. One hand behind his head while he tapped a rhythm into his abs. Evie moaned again, curling up toward the curtains.

“I did a keg stand…”

“Oh, yeah, you did.” Blue eyes rolled. “Your highness.”

“Did I puke on anyone?”

“Just some sorry ass purple primroses.” He’d snarked with some amusement. “You almost got me, but I aimed you just fine.”

“Shit. I’m-”

“You’re gonna piss me off if you apologize again. That’s a stupid girl habit you need to shake.”

“Stupid girl habit, pfffs. I’m Billy Hargrove. I'm perfect and glowy with the face of a damn cherub. Know-it-all.” Evie huffed and mumbled to mock him but Billy continued.

“You just did to me what I did to Harrington. Figure I had it coming. I’m still Billy-The Shit-Hargrove. Smoke and mirrors as you think.” His chest rose and air blew out his mouth. “We didn’t do anything, I just helped you home as you poured your tasty heart out.”

“Yeah, uh… It’s all coming back. Argh...” Evie rubbed her face and aimlessly waved for him to stop talking. She noticed Billy still had his jeans on, no shirt. Then, spied her own outfit under the robe. “The hell are we wearing?”

“You were keen to flash me those Fenny wiles so I tied you into the drunk girl straitjacket. Took some wrangling, but I think I earned the gold,” he blinked, “and I didn’t wear anything under the denim. I figured jeans were better than you waking to my huge, raw morning wood...unless you’re into that.”

He winked which earned him that scrunchy scowl he loved to see on her face.

Evie collapsed back on her front. Cursing daylight. Lingering black makeup still smeared around her eyes.

“Okay, well, I can die now. Officially. Thank you, Billy, for bearing witness.”

“No, no, I’m nursing you back to health today. We both smell like party. Get up. Water. Pills. Shower. Gonna shower at my place and then I’m coming back for breakfast. I’ll make your birthday up to you if you’ll let me. Hope you let me, cause I’ll bug you another two months until you don’t.” Fingers tugged for messy curls until she grumbled.

Evie poked those bright eyes up.

“There was talk of a couch day. I remember.”

“You remember everything?” Thick lashes batted the vulnerability away. She softened.

“Everything. Feel like death,” she said, “but waking up in your arms wasn’t so bad.” Billy brightened, liking that. Maybe too much because he looked smug. “So, the couch. You and me. Us. Can you manage that? Relaxing with casual stimulation.”

“Oh, say stimulation again. Slower,” Billy uttered and Evie rolled her eyes. “Gonna let me come back over?”

“Maybe.” She hitched and whined, ruffling her curls. “Knowing my mom, she’s gonna stay until closing. Around six or seven tonight, she might go party straight from the shop. She's made that a habit on weekends. I don’t know, as this year is going she’s just home less. City friends. Dating. And I feel bad cause it’s almost easier.”

Billy didn’t comment.

“My throat still hurts from last night and we do smell pretty ripe...gonna shower. Clean these sheets too.”

“We haven’t even made a proper mess of them.” Billy came up on his elbows with a suggestive look. They shared another beat before his tone changed. “I should have stayed.”

“I wish you did. But, I also wish I didn’t run into Fredrick’s arms after that dance. It was stupid. We can both make idiot decisions. Still young, I guess.” Evie turned her eyes. “But, you’re here now and we’re not yelling at each other.”

“It’s a whole new world. Keg King.”

“I need to forget that.”

“School won’t. None of the schools there will forget it. Betcha even Tannen knows.” Billy pushed up and Evie followed, stretching until something cracked delightfully. “Heard from him?”

“Something with a DUI or two… I don’t know. He made his threats already.” She stopped to pet Blue, shifting the kitten off Billy’s coat while he snagged his shirt. “Tell Max I said hi if she’s around.”

“Give me thirty.” Billy took his coat, gave her ass a pat, and waltzed out. Unworried. Evie dragged into the shower. Stood there under the warm spray with her head pressed against the cool tiles. Swallowed some aspirin down and slid her eyes to the container of cherry red pins.

There wasn’t a melancholy welling inside her empty gut, but she found it odd. This craving to indulge. To swallow sharp objects and let them click around musically inside her. Make them part of her routine. Eat artificial things until she was made from them. A doll on the top shelf threatening to take a tumble.

Wet curls hung over her shoulders and breasts. Evie closed the mirror and looked at her body there. Head tilting. Towels fell around her feet. She opened her palms, arms slighting lifting in a submissive motion. Evie thought to cover herself but didn’t. Imagined a shell opening so the world could look at her. Admire her. Pluck her free and decorate her with tiny diamonds and opals. Maybe seaweed and shells like a pretty siren.

The mirror lights washed her flesh out as they would an old starlet. Flash. Romancing Evie as she blew kisses to an empty lens, hoping to be loved beyond it. She might die if they don't all love her. Want to screw her. Want to open her up and peek inside. Flash. Keep her at arm's reach if they don't like what they see. Flash. It doesn't matter because she's still a wondrous thing to covet.

She imagined several hands piecing her parts together. Painting them with deft brushes. Evie could sit on a shelf still. She could also let them loop red strings around her broken limbs. Contorting fingers walking her upon a empty stage with the same washed-out lights. Evie would be anything for them. Give anything for eyes and lights and brushes that caress her.

Hands pushed her curls back over her shoulders. Evie really looked at her body. No shame. No sex. No fear. No disgust. Just flesh and blood and muscle wrapped around bones with marrow made of that electric stardust. Flesh that offended the world, they had to fetishize her to stand her. Nothing really mattered if the lights washed her away though. The lights would tell them to love her regardless because she was the next great thing.

Flash.

Lips pushed into the mirror's reflection, breath ghosting to leave an imprint that faded as she leaned back. Her neon demon flitting out to curl and poison the world so she wouldn't have to choke it down alone.

“I don’t want to be them,” Evie sneered there, “they’ll want to be me.”

They’ll claw. And scrape. And scream. And die. Just to be a second rate version of Evangeline. Steam rose around her, placed adoring kisses upon her skin.

A kiss and a promise wrapped in that vengeful neon demon she fed and hid from the world that had ruined her. Broke her parts to pick and choose the best. A demon she still kissed and tried to preen with kindness because Evangeline tried. She tried.

Evie hadn’t been cruel. She told lies. She made messes. But, she tried and she had always hoped that would count for something. It didn’t with her father. Or Mona. Not even Fredrick, he liked her mutilated. But, Evie tried to hold onto that kind girl with fire and hopes to create music that rained to make flowers grow even bolder. She deserves something. Anything.

She was already carved out by this life. Felt like she might hit bone if she dug any further. Piles and piles of ash spilling out longing veins. Organs delectable enough to feed on from souls that sapped her vitality away. What else was there to do but scream until someone heard her? Scream for the girl she lost. The people who would never care to understand that. Scream until they were forced to scream over her. Until they were all roses falling at her feet.

As she looked at herself here, Evie wondered if that girl was even alive anymore. And if she’d already let her down. If she could be forgiven. If she could forget a specific howl of thunder that came after crackling lightning. Lips near her ear to preen so sweet.

"My little mouse-"

Flash.

Hands shaking, she thrust the mirror open and pricked her finger on a cherry pin. Blood beading before she settled it upon her tongue to devour it.

It didn’t make sense. She was happier. Today, she was better. She was in control. But, this... It was built into her. Settling comfortable with everything else. A need. A hope. A cycle. An addiction. Girlhood was a horror story written by a true romantic. This, she knew well.

Just once, Evie figured. She could wean off it. She could gather her parts and sew them back together without help. Carve the person she lost to the world in something stronger.

It’s fine. This is fine.

Flash.

Unable to see whoever was in the mirror now, Evie shut the lights out and hurried away. She pulled a long sleeve tee on with a faded floral design. Decided leggings were a god-like invention and was stuffing socks on when Billy let himself back in.

At the sound, she clenched her stomach as if he’d walk in and see the artificial fragments that made her up now. A softer breath puffed. Everything was neatly hidden inside. Soon to be a part of her shelf collection. Footsteps came to her while she bent over to toss her wet towels in the hamper.

“Can’t knock-?” Evie was spun around into an oncoming hard kiss. Lips colliding before Billy hitched and pulled out. Fireworks burst.

“Hey, I waited for that.” He winked and went into the kitchen. Owned the space. “You look like hell still, Evie. Couch. I’ll make you something greasy to eat.”

“Ugh, I won’t even fight you on this...and you’re well aware of that.” Evie fell onto the sofa. Sagged. Heard Billy clicking around. “You’re not gonna make a mess, are you?”

“Quit worrying, let the master work.” He peered at the kitten eagerly eating from her dish.

Evie heard something sizzle and flipped TV channels. Turned the brightness and volume a little lower while she draped over the sofa's arm. Tried to distract herself as the meds kicked in. Melting around her pricking pin. Billy padded back in with a paper plate. Something stacked high on it.

“What did you…?” Evie blinked and sat up to make room for him so he put the plate down. Still warm and steamy, gooey cheese oozed from fresh bread. “Grilled cheese. Oh hell, that actually looks really good.”

“I made a bunch. Stuff that hangover.” He spied her and stole the remote. Evie was too busy leaning over to pull a cheesy sandwich apart to fight him. Readily, leaning into Billy’s shoulder, Evie got comfortable there as they shared a silence. A hot, greasy meal that was perfection. Even a few laughs over the TV.

She forgot about pretty made up dolls. About that girl she lost. About whatever was trying to take its place. About screaming and thunder.

“I think we should set some ground rules for this thing since we’re obviously avoiding labels,” Evie said during a commercial, wiping her fingers on a napkin before she pushed up. “Water?”

“With ice if you really wanna impress me.” Billy kicked back and heard her scoff. “What do you mean, rules?”

“I mean,” the sink started running from the kitchen, “just...you wanna be with me and I wanna be with you and we’re not gonna bring a third party into that. Basic ‘don’t screw this up’ rules.”

“Unless you’re into it.” Billy cracked his cheekiest smile as she returned. Ice clicked in two glasses. Billy put one arm up on the couch to gesture so she tucked in there. Cups clicked and they hydrated as if a mission was afoot.

“Ah, use the coaster.” She leaned forward so they could set the drinks down. Billy rolled his eyes and sat back, legs spreading.

“You worry too much, I know how to tell people I’m seeing a girl.”

“How public can we be? If I try to kiss you or, god forbid, hold your hand at school...will you be weird about it now?”

“No, and just give me a slap if I get weird on you again.” He shrugged. “If I wanna slip you my tongue or smack your ass, are you gonna get all squirrely on me?” Billy tipped his head back when he felt her chuckle.

“Depends on who you do it in front of. I figure you’ll use your brains for that judgment. I hope.” Came the softer reply. Evie curled into the warmth of him. Stared at his neck and watched the muscles and veins shift under tanned skin. Wondered about sinking her teeth there. “You can get handsy within reason. Do that thing where one person slips their hand into the other’s pocket as they walk.”

“I’ll give you the John Hughes fantasy if you throw me a little pornstar now and then.”

“Bet you think every nasty thing you say makes me blush.”

Evie wiggled down and settled her head in his lap. Eyes snapped down to see her face crinkle with a brighter smile, still only somewhat fatigued from the night before. Curl spiraling long over her shoulders and his thighs. He caught one around his finger. Twirled it with a thoughtful expression before he looked at her eyes.

“You are beautiful, Evangeline Fenny.” Billy had to sigh it. A fierce and tender proclamation. A stunning spell cast over her like a thin veil. Twinkling jewels. Flash photography.

It became clear that they held power over each other and that this was the closest she’d ever gotten to her name in lights.

And Evie did blush. She didn’t look away from his eyes. For once. Not when they flickered to catch her gaze. Lost in Billy, she rose and turned over on her hands and knees. Leaned toward him carefully. Billy inhaled her perfume, got this fluttered look as she took his chin and tipped it to place a delicate kiss upon his throat. Another touched the line of his jaw.

One muffled sound fused them together. Evie’s back hit the couch. The remote fell with a clatter. Fingers laced, Billy shifted her hand next to her head. Saw her pause to kiss his knuckles. Tough with scars from too many fights that burst them open.

Fingertips gave this gentle caress of Evie’s hairline with his free hand. Careful as if something here could shatter. Thick lashes fluttered so she turned to look up at him there. Words crushed in her throat. Almost pleasurably.

“Open your mouth.” Billy longed to taste the fragmented syllables. Lips parted. A finger swept the kiss-puffed swell of them. “Little wider.” His own mouth curled. Thumb rubbing a circle into her chin before he came down. A vaguely sweet-salty kiss. Tangy, almost reminding him of that balmy California air.

Evie matched him. Pushed back. Cupped his face. Made a heavenly sound that vibrated into him.

And she leaned out as if struck by lightning.

“What’s your middle name?”

“What?” He laughed, watching her lashes flutter. Hand midway to touch her breast.

“Your middle name.” Evie fingered the metal pendant when it hung down from his neck. Traced a line across his collar before tucking spun gold behind his ear.

“Why?”

“So suspicious.” She tugged his tee so he’d kiss her again. Slower this time. “This, Billy, is totally a date. So, I’m asking about you about you.” Frankly, Evie wanted to know every little, silly thing there was to him.

“Feels like that perfect, lengthy ending of a date to me.” The snark had Evie pouting. Stopping anymore kisses he dared to plant. Billy gave pause. “It’s stupid. My middle name.”

“Well, now you have to tell me.” She shifted so he could drape his weight across her, one elbow planted near her head. Billy rolled his eyes. Cringed.

“Seamus.” He mumbled, sparking. “Don’t laugh. Mom chose it after an ancestor on her side.”

“Just smiling cause you told me. That’s not bad!” Evie pressed her lips when they trembled. “William Seamus Hargrove.”

“Yeah, I sound like a creepy lighthouse keeper who's really into masturbating.”

“One out of two.” Evie squealed as he pinched her side for that. “Marie!”

“Huh?”

“My middle name. Marie.” Arms looped loosely around Billy's shoulders. They wrapped each other up, spoke intimately of casual subjects. All too easily.

“Evangeline Marie Fenny.” He gave it a taste. Liked it.

“Uh-huh.” Evie’s fingers twirled idle into Billy's curls, massaging circles into the back of his warm neck. “My mom got the middle name from this famous Voodoo Queen in New Orleans. She thought to name me Christine, Wendy, or Beatrice but when I was born, she changed her mind at the last minute because she saw me and said the name just came to her from this epic poem. Said it was star-worthy so she plucked it down from the night sky and kept it as her own.”

"A star?" He panned to focus on her expression relaxing.

"It's a lot to live up to." Something to grieve deeply in that.

“Hm. Voodoo Queen. So, do you like to turn boys into creatures when they cross you? Frogs, goats, and bats maybe? For sacrifice?”

“I mean, that’s the first thing they teach us, obviously. Voodoo is actually peaceful and balanced, it just has a violent misconception because of racism. It’s an even exchange of life and energy. A relationship you build with actual effort. Signature.”

“My mom might have liked it, she was spiritual-like.”

“My aunts know more. They were pretty worked up when my mom branched out. I like to think she balances a couple religions to get by. She does the same thing with hair styling…and boyfriends.” Evie puffed, eyes elsewhere. “Just a jukebox, she changes the song by whatever is gonna comfort her most that week. I just tell people she’s open-minded and she is.”

“My dad hates your mom more than he’s hated any neighbor we’ve ever had. And we used to live across from these guys he didn’t like me talking to. Said they were living in sin. Well...he used worse words.” Billy admitted, vaguely entertained because Neil loved to spit words only when backs were turned. He was a coward. “They were always nice to me. Owned this fancy cake shop so they sometimes gave me a truffle if I was playing on the apartment steps.”

“I can picture you small. Face all messy with chocolate.” Evie gushed there. “Probably the cutest thing. Bet Neil hated them more for being sweet.”

“The one and only time he spat the word out in the open, one of those guys broke his nose. I got the brunt of that anger later, but it was worth it. Just makes me like Mona more.”

“I’m sure.” Evie blinked, sighing elsewhere under Billy’s gaze. “My mom and I have a disconnect, but I am proud of her. She’s so educated despite having me young even if people don’t know it. She’s marched for human rights and she’s braver than she knows. She always stands for something and I hope I can one day too. Even if her big, noble causes distract from her home life.”

Evie paused with this searching look. Unsure if she should indulge the thought that swept her eyes. Gently, she continued.

“I don’t think her mom ever loved her. Nana was always so cold to her, not like with the older sisters. I noticed that young. She might have liked me only cause I was her one and only grand-baby.”

“Why’s that?”

Evie flickered her brown eyes again, frowning.

“You can’t repeat this, not even to me.” A sigh followed when Billy nodded. “When my mom and dad got divorced...that Christmas break she took me back to N’awlins. They live in this big place, I used to think it was a castle. Her three older sisters, growing old together. Nana was with them until she passed away. I used to hang out in the attic when I wasn’t at their store. Going through boxes of memories.”

“Yeah.” Billy nodded for her to go on.

“My mom wasn’t supposed to be born. Nana had her sisters. She had this husband. Perfect life. A shop to pass down. One night, she was closing and a man attacked her. Held her down and…” Evie swallowed.

“Oh…”

“He hurt my Nana bad. I don’t think she was ever the same, how can you be? But, she got pregnant with his baby. Kept it and that was my mom. I think my mom spent her whole life trying to make up for it. I’m sure she knew.”

“How so?”

“My grandfather left not long after she was born and..my Nana wrote him this letter I don’t think she ever sent. It was begging him to just take Mona and love her right. It was full of apologies and, I think she was gonna kill herself. I don’t know what changed her mind. But, I found that letter and read it. It was in my mom’s things. Under the floorboards of the first dollhouse she ever made herself. She must have found it all the same. Maybe when she was my age.”

“Probably wasn’t an easy thing to find for her.”

“Right. Might explain why mom can only handle the dainty things in life. She just wanted to be loved. So, I think after that...I tried even harder to be perfect for her. I know she loves me and her mother never loved or wanted her. She tried so hard for everyone even if she’s bad with the negative. We’re friends. She always tells me I saved her life so I’m scared of letting her down. What if I can’t save her one day?” Her voice cracked so Evie swallowed a lump down to level herself.

Billy felt that prick his heart. Deeper than he liked. But, the advice still came out clear.

“That’s not your job, Evie, you need a mother. You have plenty of best friends.”

“I thought she married my dad cause she loved him, but really I think she married the first person who promised to care for her. Who whisked her away from her mother’s cold house. It worked out that he was always traveling for work. It feels like everything I thought I knew about my life wasn’t real.” Evie caught herself, eyes on Billy’s pendant. She hoped it protected him. Well enough. “But, my dad. I bet he thinks about me every day. I know it.”

It was always striking and peculiar how Evangeline spoke of her father. Billy pictured a string being pulled from her back to rattle the same peppy sayings. Over and over again until perhaps she believed it too.

Evie paused to stare at Billy thoughtfully. With the pull of her string, she switched modes to become something else.

“What kinds of things to do you like to write about?” She asked with this dreamy sort of expression crossing as if the words before were all imaginary. She was fine. Her mother was fine. Her father, he…

It was all fine. Picture perfect. Paparazzi flashing to send her into a sea of spots. Memories wiping.

“I don’t know, anything to not be here.” Billy caught himself, both of them still wrapped around each other. “Not here, I mean. I’m here.”

Billy seemed to realize how present he was and shifted off her.

“The words almost don’t sound real.” Repetition. A mild chuckle. “I’m here.” He sounded them out carefully. Evie pulled up. Stared at Billy sitting on his knees between her legs.

“That’s it.” She said. “Labels and rules aside. As long as we’re just here, I think we have a handle on this. I can manage that, can you?”

I’m here, Billy gave this closer look and nodded. Earring dangling. Fingers twisted his ring around.

“Are you going to tell Neil or Susan about this?” Evie’s question made him pale noticeably.

“Hell, no. It’s better if my dad doesn’t figure it out. Don’t like him talking to you.”

Evie didn’t argue with that.

“I don’t think I want to tell my mom, she’s just a lot when I’m seeing someone or liking anyone point-blank.” Evie winced.

“Don’t freak on me if I pull from you around my dad. I don’t trust him near you. He’ll say shit and you don’t need that.” Billy peered aside until Evie took his hand, shaking it almost officially.

“Deal. Screw Neil.”

“Oh,” Billy laughed, “you're still a funny girl, Evie.” Eager as can be, he cupped the back of her head. Kissed her into the couch. They forgot the dull aches that kept them so grounded. All giggles, she squirmed out to escape him. Left Billy breathless and tugged as she got up. “Wait, where ya going?”

“Um. My room. Duh.”

He lit up and tried to play cool which melted the second he scrambled to scoop her from the floor.

“Ah!” Evie wiggled and clung to him. Feeling his muscles bulge and strain as they always did. Made her heart sing. “We didn’t discuss this!”

“If I can lift it, it’s mine. You spent all last night challenging me, what do you expect?” Billy jostled her which had Evie wrapping her arms tighter around his shoulders. Barely squealing.

“Okay! Don’t drop me!” She squeezed into his arms and balled up. Billy laughed all the way to the bedroom. “I didn’t wash the sheets yet.”

“Even better, let’s make a bigger mess of them.” Billy dropped her playfully into the covers. Pulled his shirt off as Evie sat up. Eyes falling to the hard contours. He relished that she liked to look at him. Fingers wrapped around her wrist, encouraging the cool palm into his skin. Up the deft lines in his stomach. “You can touch, I won’t charge you for it.”

She dropped the awe and pushed from him. Laughing back into the pillows.

“You’re such a pain.” Evie stiffened because Billy dropped down to crawl up her body. Pretense gone. One hand cupped her jaw. Urged it open as fingers stroked the silky cheek. Thumb curving the swell of her parting mouth. Evie kissed the pad and let the digit slip along her tongue.

“You’re so good.” Billy shuddered when he felt her tongue whirl obediently around his thumb. Breathless. Evie reached down to undo his belt. Sly as can be.

“You’re eager.” She whispered coolly against the wet thumb tracing a line down her chin.

“I haven’t been laid much the past few months, I’m collecting. Times I tried didn’t work. Sue me.”

“Poor thing.” She cooed, working his zipper down until Billy bit his lip. Hips shimmied between her spread legs. He jerked her hips up to get the underwear and leggings off in one expert pull. “Did you think about me when you tried?”

Billy narrowed on her. Sighed as a hand slipped into his jeans. Moaned.

“Yes.” He stole himself a kiss. “Couldn’t even measure up to that kiss in the street.”

“Remind me how that went.” Evie hitched a laugh and he smothered her down. Scared the syllables with his tongue.

Billy pulled her hair for good measure, pushed his open fly into her bare skin. He didn’t waste time this hour as she moaned and pulled for him. Adjusted to find her core. Hips snapped together, both of them mostly clothed in disarray. A good ache built as he moved. Hard and intent like he was making an impression into her flesh. Into her marrow.

Evie would remember him and this time and how he played her. Totally. Neither of them would be running. This moment was about the long haul together. They kept slowing to just look and breathe. Noses nuzzling. Soft exhales in turn. Billy broke kisses to push his face up against her hair and jawline, arms sliding underneath her to cling. He let Evie whisper sweet things into his flesh. Let her hold him just as close.

At the sweetness of her coaxing, he spilled inside her. Earlier then he meant.

“Shit.” Billy started to push up when Evie’s legs caught his hips.

“Stay,” she puffed, “stay like this for a bit.” She prodded and pawed, openly needing him. So very bad.

“I’m crushing you.” He mumbled into her cheek. Trapped in heat.

“I like it.” Evie’s arms looped his shoulders. Both of them got the shakes. “I like how you feel right here.”

“You didn’t come yet.” Hot breath ghosted her neck.

“It’s okay.”

Billy blew air into her jaw. Kissed the line of it before he reached down to finish her.

“Yeah?”

“Ngh, yes.” She mewled out silently. "Oh, Billy." That was his favorite song in truth.

“Atta girl.” Billy kept planting kisses. Evie twisted with nowhere to go. Whimpered until she was locking under him. Mouth back open for his slow tongue. She reached a peak and let him slowly bring her back down.

Lips muffled into her collar. He stayed there inside her. Took every piece of comfort she offered. One hand reeled up to pet her curls. Arms kept him firm against her so he could listen to her twittering heart slow and lull. Fingers danced too delicate across flesh.

Evie whined as he pulled out. Felt the absence burn hot.

They messed the sheets. She was still pulling for him until he pushed her over. Wrapped himself around her after fixing his jeans back up. Leaving them open. Evie shifted, restless until Billy kissed behind her ear.

“Just sleep. Not going anywhere.” Billy’s words lulled her back to relax. “Quit squirming about it.”

She stilled, fingers trailing up the hair on his arm before she dropped her head to the offered bicep. Evie tilted Billy’s wrist to see the watch, groaning.

“It’s not even noon.”

“Maybe you’ll think next time before you get up hungover on a weekday before eight,” Billy mumbled into the curls.

“Only did it for the Hargrove grilled cheese.” Evie closed her eyes to sigh. "You fell for it."

“Guess we’re both screwed.”

“Mm-hm.” She let her mind flutter. Felt Billy’s hand stroking her bare thigh.

Fingers moved up her hip. Kneading the flesh. His palm trailed over her tummy and she didn’t stop him. Didn’t clam up at a boy touching her fuller areas. Billy worshiped her skin. Breath hot into dark curls. She almost wondered if he was trying for another round massaging her hip like that with dancing fingertips.

“Hard to nap when you...when you touch me.” She sounded breathless.

“Like touching you,” Billy mumbled. “Gonna figure out a way to prove it to you without the label. This thing.”

“For a boy who likes to talk, I notice certain words are hard for you.” She felt the arm under her wrapping tighter, pulling her further into his fire. “Not judging. I have problems words too.”

“Still good with my mouth.” Billy shifted hair from Evie’s neck and jaw. Settling his lips there, lazy as can be. “And my hands. But, you still have something nagging you tell you I’m not being truthful about the exclusive thing. Gonna figure out how I can make that up to you.”

“If I really didn’t trust you, Billy, I wouldn’t have let you stay here.” Evie shifted around to face him, still laying on his bicep. There was plenty of fear. Fear of exposing her heart and vessels and nerves to be plucked. Fear she'd like him more than he liked her. Fear this relationship would be such an easy thing to fall into.

"That's honest." He decided, lashes batting. Evie reached up and traced this curving line near his mouth.

“Just be with me cause you want to be and try not to raise your voice if you’re upset." She dropped her hand. "It’s okay if you’re upset, you can tell me. It just freaks out when men raise their voices. It’s like thunder and I...I’m scared of thunder.”

Evie recalled the passive-aggressive way Fredrick would slam things when he was upset with her instead of outright telling her. How he’d wait until she was near tears and begging his forgiveness. Billy studied her eyes. Saw lightning flash within them. Knuckles came to her cheek. Gave an idle caress. His soft lips found her brow and lulled her heavy eyes until they began to flutter. Billy laid there and watched Evie fade, let her sleepy frame tuck into him. Under his chin. She found solace.

He thought of the men in her life and his life who raised their voices. Who hit. Who broke them down to a series of parts they can pick and choose from to make a doll that suited them best. This image they placed up carefully for protection, it may have shattered them both distantly. Billy didn’t want to be a piece of thunder in Evie’s life. Striking to make his points so she wouldn’t forget them.

But, Evie slept so soundly in his arms. Barely twitching while his hands roamed her body. Under the shirt down her bare back. Threading into fluffy locks of thick hair. These little caresses that were her lullaby. It made Billy believe with all his soul that he’d never be like them.

And it made it so easy for him to follow her in darkness.

** ** **

“You’re awfully quiet, Max.” Evie turned her head in the seat. Trees whizzed by illuminated with little flits of the morning sun.

“Just a test today, I guess.” Max had her backpack clutched close in her lap. Almost hiding behind it. She hinted a smile. “I gave Billy shit this morning.” Billy snorted in the driver’s seat, nodding. One hand idle on Evie’s knee. Hot through the denim.

“She did. Neil wasn’t around.”

“Hey...I told Will and them I’d go to the arcade. Just to hang out after school. I’ll be home before dinner.”

“Does Neil know?” Was all Billy asked.

“Yes, he thinks I’m just going to see El. Stays quieter if I’m seeing the Police Chief.” Max plucked up her skateboard. “I won’t need a ride so you guys can make-out.” She snickered while Billy swerved to park at school.

“Yeah? Beat it.” He shifted his seat, patting Evie’s knee to make her wait there. Max jumped out and hopped on her board.

“She does seem off,” Evie remarked more so to herself.

“Things at home are off, it’s making it weird for her and her friends.” Billy shut the door with a hard look. Exhaling out his nose. “It was bound to.” Evie watched Max skate down the hill around other students. Seemingly isolated. She didn’t push the subject and wiped the frown aside. Mauve lips upturned when she peered to see Billy staring at her face. Not reaching for a smoke yet.

“Got something for you.” He said instead, fishing into the front pocket of his denim jacket. “Tried to figure out how to make this official for you. Here.”

Billy dropped a silver chain in her hand without ceremony. The silver ring he wore on his middle finger hung from it. Evie wondered what he’d fidget around with now when he was deep in thought.

“I don’t have a class ring or Letterman jacket for you because I’m not a douche. But, guys do this. Don’t they?” Billy peered at Evie eyeing the ring before she met his gaze.

“It’s perfect.” She turned, gesturing so he could help her put it on. It sat lower than the little music note she usually wore. Evie debated it and pulled her dad’s necklace off, looping it around her wrist as a bracelet because she wasn’t ready to part with it just yet. Maybe it not being in plain sight would make her easier to look at for Mona. “Thank you.”

“My mom got it for me. She had it in the family and said it would fit me one day. That and this chain.” He fingered the saint pendant.

“I’ll be careful with it,” Evie promised him.

“It sits exactly where I wanted it to.” Billy flashed some pride.

“Over my heart?” Her eyes glimmered.

“Over your tits.” He laughed when she shoved at him, tugging his collar in for a kiss.

“You’re gross,” Evie mumbled, pecking him once more. She fingered the ring and beamed.

“You’re into it.” Billy turned her chin for just one more. She could live in this.

Just one more kiss.

Deciding to join the rest of the student body, they got out. Evie slung her strap over one shoulder while Billy held his bag in a wad at his side. They met each other around the car before Billy slipped his arm around her waist, bringing Evie into him. Fingers delved into her back pocket.

Every teen around them took note. It was official. Comments piled in as they passed into school.

“Great party, Evie.”

“Looking good, you two!”

“Love your outfit, Fenny.”

Whistles cast and overlapped suggestively.

“This is weird.” Evie leaned into Billy as they got to her locker. Students looked at them together. Offered winks or smiles. Students who never addressed her much before.

“You’re the keg king. What’s that saying?” Billy had shrugged. “Heavy is the head… Fine is the ass.”

“I regret you already.” Evie broke to laugh at him. “Pure poetry, Billy.” She shut her locker, paused to see Heather headed her way looking apprehensive. Another smile crossed, even fuller than the last. Heather seemed to respond and follow it.

“So, I heard I missed a piece of history.”

“Hardly, I puked everywhere.” Evie swept curls behind her shoulder. “Billy, can Heather and I have a sec?”

“Depends, am I still an asshole prick?” He leered over Evie’s shoulder.

“You’re back down to normal prick status.” Heather beamed even sweeter while Billy caught his tongue between his teeth, seeming to like that.

“I can work with that, princess.” He tugged Evie’s curls and went around them to head to his locker before the first period. Evie shifted on her feet so they walked along together.

“I know...things have still been kinda weird.”

“I just figured I’d let you and Carol work through your stuff, you know?” Heather looped her arm into Evie’s.

“Can’t without my best friend there. Sure, Carol and I are bonding, but that doesn’t… You and I went to dances together, Heather, we stayed up eating junk food and watching terrible movies. We bought our first bras together.”

“Our mothers made that day so mortifying, I think I’m still messed up from it.” Heather giggled with Evie snorting next to her. “And you got a real B bra while I basically bought a damn bandage.”

“We’re repressing the memory together.” Evie tugged her down the next hallway where Steve scrambled to snatch her into an unexpected bear hug.

“Tell me it’s true, oh my god, Evie.” He was near howling with laughter. Evie, shocked that Steve lifted her feet from the floor, stammered through the broken train of thought.

“What?” She got spun around with a cry as Heather cackled. Students hurried around them. Steve wasn't strong like Billy, but credit was due.

“You’re the keg king?” He shook her by the shoulders. “You smashed Billy’s record in front of him. In front of everyone?”

“I’m never drinking again.” Evie dropped her head to his chest, hands covering her face.

"You're my absolute hero, Eves, I hope you know that." Steve gripped Evie tighter, got close like he thought to kiss her but resisted.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to fill us in on everything at lunch.” Heather decided, grasping Evie’s hand. “Jesus, Steve, get it together.”

“Let me have this, Holloway. She's mine.” He squeezed Evie’s amused frame back into him. “He made my life hellish.”

“I’ll dedicate the win to you. How’s that?” Evie slipped from Steve, laughing now. “Lunch. We’ll give Billy shit about it together.” A wink that Steve matched, thoroughly enjoying this momentous day. Evie rejoined Heather to hurry toward class. “How about a sleepover? Us, Carol, and Max. I think she needs more girls in her life. No boys invited.”

Heather hugged her books close to grin easier.

“I’d like that.”

~~~~~

A/N: Letting these two finally just be intimate is everything to me. Thank you so so much for reading. Comments and rbs are well loved and appreciated!! Feel free to chat with me, pretty please! Tag list & ask open. xoxo :)

TAGGED:: @80sbxtch @nottherightseason @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @10blurredsmoke10 @charmed-asylum @unmistakablyunknown @lukespatterson

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calitraditionalism · 3 years

Text

Arc Two: Chapter Six

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Over the next few days, several cats arrived in pairs or trios. Some were simply there for the Clast life, while others had heard of Redheart and were curious. All promptly made themselves comfortable without waiting for further instruction. Mistface and Darkpelt kept their ears perked as the whispered grumbles of the native Clast cats grew to muttered complaints that sunk back to whispers whenever Redheart walked past.

“This may work out in our favor,” Darkpelt said to Mistface one day. “The less cats that agree with her, the better.”

“And the fact that it’s her own family, also,” Mistface added. “We may get lucky and have no one go with her.”

“Your brother likely still will, though.” Darkpelt smiled cheekily. “So we better get to work and see how to keep her here before you lose all of your family.”

Mistface said nothing. She seemed to sense his reaction anyway and smiled wider.

The blue sky was barely poking through spots in the dull clouds above the settlement when Redheart called for another meeting. This time, there seemed like the crowd was more a series of clumps than a gathered unit. From the variances in smell, Mistface gathered that the Clast cats were sticking to themselves, and none of them looked particularly happy. He caught sight of Snowshine frowning at the very back of the clusters.

“Should I sit by the seer?” he whispered to Darkpelt, standing near him. “She looks like she could use a ‘friend’.”

Darkpelt’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “Pretend to care a little more than that, my boy. Laurelclaw’s close, I’ll go hang out with him.”

With that, the two parted ways. Mistface glanced back once to make sure that Darkpelt had found Laurelclaw, then sidled up to Snowshine, announcing himself by clearing his throat.

Snowshine looked his way and the frown vanished. “Hi again.”

Mistface nodded and gestured with his paw to the spot next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“No, not at all.” Snowshine suddenly seemed a little embarrassed and very quickly focused again on Redheart as she jumped up onto the round structure. Mistface forced his jaw to unclench and sat down, half-watching Redheart but mostly trying to keep an eye on Greyleaf through the crowd, which was nearly impossible with everyone shuffling around and blocking his view.

“I’m glad to have gathered more warriors here,” Redheart said. She slowly scanned the cats around her with a calm, unreadable expression; Mistface suddenly felt like an apprentice about to receive his name when she glanced at him. “It’s good to see that bravery I’ve spoken to you all about still exists. Before we begin, I would like to thank Thistletooth for his information on the western exterior of the Territory. Some of you may not know, but he joined us as a kittypet and has grown to be a magnificent fighter and hunter.”

The blue tom that Mistface had seen fight Flyfang straightened up where he was and puffed out his chest. Several cats murmured to each other in surprise and a few offered words of congratulations, but one near Mistface grumbled, “And he’s probably leaving with her and going back to that house of his, eh?”

“With his experience, we have knowledge of where the safest places are to take ourselves,” Redheart said, her cool voice ringing over that of the grumbler. “I intend to travel to the border myself to get a personal look at the landscape, but Thistletooth has provided invaluable knowledge on the safest places to be, and I am grateful for his help.”

Thistletooth tilted his head jauntily and grinned.

Redheart suddenly turned her eyes to Snowshine. “I would also like to thank you, Snowshine, for practically leading the Clast in my place while I organize this voyage.”

Mistface blinked and looked at Snowshine, who was just as surprised as him. She managed to stammer, “I- well, it’s not trouble, Redheart.”

“It's important to acknowledge you, even still. I’m aware I’ve been neglecting my duties.” Redheart’s eyes softened a little. “You’ve stepped up without my needing to ask, and I and the Clast appreciate you greatly for it.”

Snowshine’s eyes turned to the ground and she kneaded the ground bashfully with a small smile.

“Will she be taking your place, then?” someone called, not a little testily. “When you leave?”

“We will discuss that when the time comes,” Redheart said, with great patience, though the softness in her eyes vanished. “She may choose to leave with us-“

“And why would she do that?” that cat retorted. “We won’t be able to reach StarClan, so far away.”

Redheart’s face hardened and her eyes narrowed to slits, so coldly and sharply that Mistface leaned his head back a little, startled. Her voice ground out of her throat and spread its gnarled claws, gripping the air above the crowd.

“A warrior worth their weight,” she said slowly, intensely, “does not need StarClan to protect them. If you want them at your beck and call, you do not have to come with me. You’re free to stay right here and be petted and fawned over like a kittypet for the rest of your life instead of testing what you’re truly capable of.”

Utter silence in the clearing. Everyone was swapping unnerved glances or watching Redheart anxiously. A cat in front of Mistface even stepped back a few paces, leaving just enough room to see Greyleaf completely. Mistface was quite startled – Greyleaf’s face was just as hard as Redheart’s, but his eyes were much wider, and flaring with an intense…

No, that couldn’t be hatred. Not from Greyleaf. It was such an alien expression on him. It had to be something else.

Mistface was aware of Redheart speaking again, much more calmly and like herself – something about the plans for her departure to examine the border – but he couldn’t focus. He was frozen staring at his brother, whose face had relaxed as well, but…

That hatred, or whatever it was. Mistface could see a glint of it remaining in Greyleaf’s eyes.

It occurred to Mistface that this was the most awake he had seen his brother look since he arrived here.

---

“So, um…”

Night was slowly approaching, the sun sinking in the south and the moon slowly rising. The aspect of the moon, Mona, was clearly in a merry mood, because the crescent was brighter than last night and grinning as it climbed up past the horizon. Stars were already poking out their heads, one at a time, and the sky had charitably given up its clouds for the time being, allowing the night to be a nice shade of deep indigo.

This beauty was lost on Beetlefoot, Laurelclaw knew that. He didn't need to remark on the view to see Beetlefoot’s apathy for anything that wasn’t the mission. It was hard to talk to the little tom at all, really, but the two were supposed to hang out together for now until it got dark and Beetlefoot could go off again with the day’s reports.

Now they were sitting a body-length or so away from each other, awkward and quiet and silently hoping for the night to come on faster.

But never let it be said that Laurelclaw couldn’t try.

“It’s interesting, isn’t it?” he ventured, hating how his voice both sounded so tiny and also carried in the silence. “The change of pace, I mean.”

Beetlefoot’s head turned slightly towards him and he gave him a questioning look.

“In Plage-“ Laurelclaw cleared his throat and tried to force his tone into confident casualness. “In Plage, we’re always on the move. Never really a moment to rest and look around and enjoy the view, you know? But here, you just relax and watch the world go on.”

“It’s…” Beetlefoot’s eyes flickered to the side, like he too was trying to figure out what to say. “Slow, yes.”

“I don’t think the slowness is too bad, at least,” Laurelclaw said quickly. “I mean, yeah, you can get a little bored if nothing’s going on, but there’s always something here. A fight, or a conversation, or… well, plenty of interactions with others, you know what I mean?”

Beetlefoot tensed a little, and his voice was oddly quiet. “No.”

“Oh.” Laurelclaw faltered, and the awkwardness was right back in full force. This time, though, it felt more like the sympathetic awkwardness one experienced when not sure how to respond to someone’s personal troubles. He felt like he was just within reach of coming to understand this stiff little tom more.

He opened his mouth to do something, he wasn’t sure what – ask a question or offer a kind word or something – but a perky voice behind him said, “What are you two looking at?”

Both toms jumped and looked round quickly to see Littlepaw standing there and looking at them curiously.

“Uh-“ Laurelclaw fumbled. “Nothing. Just… thinking. Talking.”

“We were considering whether or not to visit the Vultures tomorrow,” Beetlefoot said, with a smoothness that impressed Laurelclaw. “A friend is there living with them.”

Littlepaw’s eyes popped open and she gasped. “The Vultures are nearby?!”

Beetlefoot and Laurelclaw looked at each other for clarification that neither of them had, then back at Littlepaw.

“You didn’t know?” Laurelclaw asked. “They’re about an hour away.”

“Can I come with you, if you do go?” Littlepaw bounced on her toes, leaning forward in excitement. “I know they don’t do fictional stories, but the real ones are just as interesting!”

“They…” Beetlefoot seemed put off by her eagerness. “…aren’t doing any research. They just have a pregnant member resting for a while.”

“Oh!” Littlepaw seemed even more excited. “Then I can visit a couple times before they go! Maybe they’ll know where the Margays are going next, too!” She looked up with big, pleading eyes. “Can I go? Please? If Flyfang says okay? I won’t be annoying, I just want to meet them myself."

Laurelclaw’s soft heart kicked in. Before he could actually consider what he was going to say, he smiled weakly. “Sure thing. Just, uh, definitely ask Flyfang, so she doesn’t beat me up if you disappear with us out of nowhere.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Beetlefoot was scowling, but Littlepaw practically trilled in excitement and that scowl was rather easy to ignore.

“Thank you!” Littlepaw said, tail waving delightedly. “I’ll ask Flyfang when she’s awake. I never got to talk with the Vultures before, and-“

She started off, going over her interest in the tales of the Clan, whether real or fictional. Laurelclaw laughed, warmth in his chest at the happiness in the apprentice’s voice. Littlepaw was so happy, in fact, that she seemed to miss Beetlefoot silently taking his leave and disappearing behind a house. Laurelclaw knew well enough to keep Littlepaw occupied, so he engaged in the conversation.

Eventually, though, Littlepaw tired herself out. She excused herself after her fourth yawn with, “Well, when you decide to go, tell me, please.”

“Of course,” Laurelclaw agreed, grinning. “Our friend will love you, too. She’ll probably have some stories of her own to tell you.”

“Can’t wait to meet her, then!” Littlepaw said. She yawned again, stretched, and turned around. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, and thank you.”

“Goodnight and you’re welcome,” Laurelclaw said, and turned around back to where he had been staring originally. Just within his range of vision, a small brown dot was streaking off into the north. Laurelclaw’s smile faded as guilt bubbled in his chest. That “no” troubled him more than it probably should.

#warrior cats #steorra #arc two #chapter #chapter six #mistface #darkpelt #laurelclaw #beetlefoot #greyleaf #littlepaw #redheart

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akirakurusuimagines · 4 years

Text

de[F]ect

@p5auweek day six: Future/Android AU (NieR: Automata)

For reference: 10B (Joker), 15O (Oracle), G18 (Reader), Pod 451 (Mona)

The Bunker was a cold, emotionless place. The grey-scale and monotonous design only furthered that depressing analysis. YoRHa unit 10B despised staying in the Bunker unless it was absolutely necessary, much preferring the endlessly blooming life that he found while on missions on Earth. His heart, though he did not have one, yearned for the color, for the animals, for the history humanity had left behind. He pressed his forehead against the glass, his body reading the drastically cold temperature and attempting to get him to move, but he didn’t mind. He held his visor loosely in one hand, letting his grey eyes absorb the beauty of the Earth from Space.

From what 10B knew of humanity, they didn’t appreciate the beauty of their world enough⁠— one of the very reasons why there were only a scarce number of humans remaining, residing in their comfortable homes on the Moon, waiting for the day where battle units such as himself would completely eviscerate the machines, and subsequently, aliens, in order for them to return to Earth. 10B scoffed, a sarcastic smile twitching on his face as he stared at his own reflection, messy black hair and fair skin, a complete reflection of the same dull tones he hated. He doubted there would ever be an end to this war, but alas, such comments would never fly if the Commander got a hold of it. He would surely have his memory wiped and body reconstructed.

“Helloooo!” A light voice sprung to life in his head, surprising him for a moment before realizing who it was, and sighing as she began to whine, “Bunker to 10B! Pay attention to your operator!!”

Upon realizing it was her, he quickly put his visor on, once again covering his eyes in a veil of black. “I read you, 15O. What is it?” 10B responded in a monotonous tone, betraying the thoughts he pondered over.

“The Commander wants to talk to you. Don’t worry! It’s nothing bad,” 15O explained, a smile on her face, “I’m sure it’s just the new mission she wants to put you on! I know you want to go back to Earth as soon as possible, sooo… I may have mentioned that you wanted to run errands.” He watched her brightly colored hair bounce as she talked, sitting improperly on her chair, looking as happy as ever, talking to him. Though he was jealous of her unique defect that helped her stand out amongst the swarm of YoRHa units, he also pitied her, knowing she would never experience Earth firsthand. She didn’t mind, naturally, finding herself much more comfortable in her little cubicle, talking solely to him and to their Commander.

10B stared silently at 15O for a moment before breaking his composure, offering her a smile and a soft chuckle. “Read my mind, huh?”

“Of course! I know you like the back of my hand. So come on, get going already!”

“Thank you,” he gave her one last smile before she ended the call, turning back to the large window and glancing at his reflection one last time. “It’s showtime.”

10B exited the Flight Unit as hastily as possible, landing on the grass, his trusty pod immediately hovering over his shoulder, ready to provide assistance, though he paid it no mind. His mission was rather simple in theory, but he knew the Commander didn’t mind if he took some extra time on Earth, especially if he were to make use of that time by strengthening YoRHa’s bond with the Resistance Camp.

He decided to make his way there first, having long since memorized the way, in order to grab some intel on this supposed obsolete YoRHa unit that was spotted by a scanner. If he remembered the Commander correctly, his target is a gunner⁠— one of the prototype models that became the baseline for battle units like himself. Frankly, he was curious to observe this unit, even though he was aware his mission was to neutralize them as defected androids were always considered a threat to the existence of YoRHa and to the 12th Machine War overall.

Regardless, he needed information to even find them, so 10B made his way inside the lively camp, feeling much more at home in this area than he ever did in the Bunker. Many androids, some deformed, others in perfect shape, greeted him, once again grateful to see his return, as it usually meant they would gain some traction in their businesses. 10B did like to keep his weaponry (and pod) as updated as possible, considering his frequent encounters with machine lifeforms that, more often than not, required dispatchment.

“It’s been a while,” the calm and collected voice of the resistance leader, Anemone, called out to him, “the Commander updated me on the situation. You want to know where that YoRHa soldier is, right? I did you a favor and rounded up as much information as I could. Here, I’ll send it to you.”

10B wasn’t exactly surprised⁠— Anemone was incredibly reliable, so it figures that she would’ve prepared as much intel as possible for him already. “Thanks,” he shifted his weight between his legs and twisted his dark bangs in front of his visor, “is there anything you need me to do in return?”

Anemone chuckled, but waved it off. “No need,” she said, “you helped us out more than enough last time. We still have plenty of supplies.”

Though a bit disappointed, 10B gave the leader a curt nod before racing out of the resistance camp, aimlessly wandering near the rivers while his pod processed the information he was given.

“Report: The wanted unit was last spotted near the abandoned amusement park,” the pod’s unusually high-pitched voice announced. “Analysis: YoRHa unit 10B should examine the amusement park for further clues on the whereabouts of unit G18.”

“Thank you, Pod 451.” 10B raised his gloved hand and gently rested it on top of the pod, petting the assistant and smiling at the content rumble it made.

10B didn’t often visit the abandoned amusement park, preferring the bright greens of the forest, though he did appreciate the grandiose use of lighting and what his pod referred to as “fireworks”. He walked slowly inside of the amusement park, his fingers twitching, holding himself back from pulling out his weapons and attacking⁠, noticing how peaceful the machines themselves were. It was strange, but considering the number, it was better that he didn’t instigate war here. Even as a specialized combat unit, he didn’t need to return to the bunker this early to repair damages caused by a swarm.

“Hypothesis: unit G18 is hidden somewhere in the area,” the pod abruptly spoke as he wandered deeper into the heart of the amusement park, the music blaring from the speakerphones dying down as he approached the empty area, popped balloons and scattered confetti littered the floor like corpses. “Proposal: unit 10B should proceed with caution.”

No sooner than the pod spoke did 10B just barely dodge an incoming flurry of quick bullets⁠— undoubtedly YoRHa. Machines weren’t capable of such things. “Pod!” 10B commanded, “Activate M Shield!”

“Understood.”

The pod’s voice was barely loud enough to hear compared to the incoming bullets, hitting every possible target in sight. 10B was stuck on the defensive, as irritating as it was. He continued to look around, paying particularly close attention to the shadows that the android was certainly hiding themselves in.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before YoRHa sent one of their pretty and shiny new androids to kill me!” you yelled from your perch, aiming the gun you were equipped with with great precision and skill, watching as the walls behind 10B crumbled, trapping him in there with you.

“Since when was I going to kill you?!” 10B snapped back, “I want to talk!”

“A battling unit has no need for talking!”

10B grit his teeth, locking onto you with his pod before racing towards your shadowed figure, gripping his knife tightly, hoping to subdue you enough so you wouldn’t try to blow his face off.

You effortlessly dodged, hundreds of years of experience surviving on one life compared to a normal YoRHa unit’s ability to upload their memories to the server coming to your advantage. However, you did underestimate 10B’s abilities, not realizing the reason that he didn’t have a partner despite being considered a serious threat by the Commander was because of his incredibly versatile abilities and quick adaptation to situations.

In the end, you two were left at a standstill, no matter what one did, the other effortlessly countered or dodged, the entire situation becoming increasingly frustrating to 10B. He really did only want to talk, for now at least.

“Pod,” he spoke in a soft voice as to not attract your attention, “activate gravity.”

“Commencing program.”

10B watched as you tried to dodge the force of gravity that the pod unleashed where you were, only to be sucked right back into the center of the dome and pinned to the ground under the crushing weight, trying to move but failing. He rushed over and securely pinned you down, keeping you stuck there, defenseless.

“Just kill me already!” You seethed, passing off your fear as rage as best as you could. You didn’t want to die⁠— of course you didn’t. No one would remember you, nor your comrades if you did. You had to live, somehow.

“I’m not going to kill you,” 10B promised.

His pod, however, immediately interjected. “Inadvisable⁠—”

“This is an order, pod, stay quiet.”

“....”

“Good,” he sighed a breath of relief, looking sternly at your time-worn features. “I’ll let you go if you promise not to shoot. I was serious when I said I wanted to talk.”

Nodding, you could only watch in amazement as he sat up, keeping his promise. You were tempted to run, every circuit in your body telling you to, yet you felt it would do him a disservice, considering how he was going against direct orders to spare your life. The least you could do is heed his request.

“I… I want to know what it’s like,” 10B began, speaking slowly and carefully, putting thoughts to words in a way he’s never done before.

“...What’s like?”

“Being here on Earth without any obligation to YoRHa or the resistance.”

“Are you thinking of defecting⁠—?” you stared at him with wide eyes, sitting up slowly. When he didn’t answer, you pressed your lips together, trying to figure out how to best explain it as he shed his visor and discarded it, staring at you with such wide, interested eyes. “It’s peaceful. Of course you have to fight and scavenge to survive, but I’ve done it for over a hundred years, so it’s not impossible, but… it’s good. Machines are rather friendly when you meet the right ones, you’re free to go wherever, do whatever, it’s freeing.”

“I see…” 10B’s gaze caught on the black visor and he frowned, not wanting to leave his Operator behind, but at the same time, intensely desiring to break free from the suffocating chains of YoRHa. Perhaps he would grow to regret it, in which case, he would return to the resistance camp to be executed. However… “Pod,” he spoke it to life, watching as it whirred with uncertainty, “remove me from the Bunker’s server.”

“Invalid command.”

“Overridden. Do as I say, pod.”

“…” the pod flickered, clearly hesitant. “Initiating sequence.”

“What are you doing?!” you exclaimed, exasperated. “You’re insane!”

“No, I’m not,” 10B replied coolly. “Pod, while you’re doing that, get me on the line with Operator 15O.”

A few moments passed before 15O’s voice buzzed in his ear. “Aww, I never thought you’d be the one to call me!”

“Listen to me, okay?”

“Why? What’s wrong?” 15O’s voice quivered slightly.

“I’m not coming back,” 10B said.

“What?”

“I’m defecting. You have nothing to do with this. Commander won’t punish you. …I’ll miss you.”

“Wait, you can’t⁠—!”

10B hung up abruptly on her, sighing, his eyebrows pinching together. He was worried about her, but he figured Commander would simply wipe her memory anyways, saving her pain.

“You’re just going to leave everything behind?” you asked, completely astonished. Every YoRHa unit you’ve come across was always completely devoted to their service, and yet, this strange unit, who was supposed to kill you, immediately chose to run?

10B laughed softly and rubbed the back of his neck as the pod announced the minute it had left to completely cut his ties to YoRHa’s server, making him appear dead. “I suppose so. I… I want to live⁠— I’m tired of fighting a useless war.”

“I see… in that case… will you come with me?”

“If you promise not to shoot me again,” 10B stood up and offered his hand to you, which you gladly took, smiling for the first time in who knows how long.

“Command completed,” the pod spoke, interrupting the moment of strange tenderness between the two of you. “Pod 451 will remain at unit 10B’s aid.”

“...Thank you,” 10B was relieved to hear it.

Shifting topics, you glanced up towards the night sky, where the fireworks continued to go off, one after another. “Let’s go, they’ll come searching for your body quickly.”

“Understood⁠— woah⁠—!” 10B exclaimed, not expecting you to dash off while still holding his hand, causing him to lose his footing for a moment, and yet, he couldn’t be happier. Who said androids didn’t have emotions?

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