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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

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Arkham Files: The Trickster

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Giovanni Giuseppi, alias James Jesse; also known as the Trickster. The patient has proven...difficult... to properly analyze. Session One. Good afternoon, Mr. Giuseppi. Or is it Mr. Jesse?

Trickster: (Cartwheeling and backflipping around the room and producing the requisite noises) I also answer to JJ, Mr. Reynard, the Trickster, Trixie, James, Giovanni, and “Shut Up, You’re Bothering Me”.

Hugo Strange: Very cute, Mr. Giuseppi. Now stop fooling around and tell me how you would like to be addressed.

Trickster: The Harlequin of Hocus-Pocus? The Artist of Artifice? Oooh, how about the Prince of Pranksters? (Brief pause) Wait...is that too Joker? It might be too Joker. And it might cause people to get me confused with the actual Prankster. What do you think?

Hugo Strange: (Already frustrated) Mr. Giuseppi, this is not a game. Just tell me by what name you would like to be addressed so that we can proceed with the session.

Trickster: Okay. You can call me Giovanni J. Trickster, Suu-per Gee-ni-us!

Hugo Strange: That is not a name, Mr. Giuseppi.

Trickster: (Petulant) You were the one who asked me how I wanted to be addressed.

Hugo Strange: Really, Mr. Giuseppi, how old are you?

Trickster: Mentally or physically?

Hugo Strange: (Frustrated sigh) That was a rhetorical question, Mr. Giuseppi.

Trickster: (Faux-innocently) Well, golly, Doctor! You should’ve said so!

Hugo Strange: Mr. Giuseppi, upon admission to Arkham Asylum, you were given a number of intelligence tests, and your overall IQ score was somewhere around 147. So kindly stop playing dumb.

Trickster: (Still faux-innocently) Why doctor, do you mean to say there’s more to me than my golden-blonde hair, my perfect teeth, my adorable dimples, and my sparkling blue eyes? I’m flattered!

Hugo Strange: (Muttering) And I thought one of the Mirror Masters was going to be the narcissist of the bunch. (Aloud) Mr. Giuseppi, I have been very patient with you, but my patience has now run out. If you don’t want me to send you to solitary, I will request that you sit down, shut up, and let me continue with the session! (Trickster sits down with a slightly over-dramatic “thump”) Thank you. So, Mr. Giuseppi, how are you feeling? (Silence) Mr. Giuseppi? (More silence) Are you all right, Mr. Giuseppi?

Trickster: You told me not to talk, doctor. So I’m not talking.

Hugo Strange: This is a therapy session, Mr. Giuseppi. We will make no progress if you don’t answer my questions.

Trickster: Then why did you tell me to shut up?

Hugo Strange: (Annoyed) You know perfectly well what I meant when I told you to shut up!

Trickster: Well, I thought I did, but clearly, I was wrong. This is why it’s important to clarify your terms, Doctor. If you don’t, people might get confused!

Hugo Strange: Mr. Giuseppi, I told you to shut up because you were talking nonsense. I have neither the time nor the patience for your puerile jokes, and I wished to put an end to them at once. However, when I said that, I did not mean that you should refuse to answer me when I ask you a direct question.

Trickster: So, you want me to talk, but only when I’m saying what you want to hear? Boy, you’re a lousy therapist!

Hugo Strange: I don’t recall asking for your opinion on my skills as a psychologist, Mr. Giuseppi. (Pause) So, how are you feeling?

Trickster: Wow, that was the most aggressive “How are you feeling?” I think I’ve ever heard.

Hugo Strange: Answer the question, or I’m sending you to solitary.

Trickster: (Cheerfully) I’m doing great, doctor! Thanks for asking.

Hugo Strange: And the reason you couldn’t have said that two minutes ago was?

Trickster: I wanted to see how far I could push you before you threatened to send me to solitary a second time.

Hugo Strange: (Deep breath) Tell me, Mr. Giuseppi. Do you have to work at being this much of an irritant, or does it come naturally?

Trickster: All natural. It’s a gift...just like my angelic cuteness!

Hugo Strange: (Muttering) Angelic, indeed. (Aloud) Mr. Giuseppi, what motivated you to put on your ridiculous costume and commit crimes with yo-yos, rubber chickens, and exploding whoopie cushions?

Trickster: (Very serious) You see, when I was young, my parents were killed in a tragic accident, leaving me with only a bag of tricks to remember them by. I suppose I picked the gadgets I did to honor their memory.

Hugo Strange: That’s very unfortunate, Mr. Giuseppi. I would like to express my condolences for-

Trickster: (Starts giggling) Tricked you! (Snickers for a bit before continuing) C’mon, Doctor. Do I really seem like the type to be motivated by some horrible childhood tragedy? My folks are both still alive and well. (Pause) You’d think a psychologist would know when he was being played!

Hugo Strange: (On the verge of shouting) Mr. Giuseppi, this is a therapy session, not a stage for your tasteless comedy show.

Trickster: My dear Doctor, I am the Trickster! The whole world is my stage, and I’m not about to give away the secrets of my act.

Hugo Strange: Very well. If you won’t cooperate, I will simply look up your history myself. (Pulls out files, flips through pages. Pause) Mr. Giuseppi, why is your file full of completely empty pages?

Trickster: (Giggles) Tricked you again! (Pause) I slipped into your office last night and swapped the actual contents of the file with blank printer paper. I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice.

Hugo Strange: You….you...How did you get out of your cell and into my office without setting off the alarms or being caught on any of the cameras?

Trickster: Ah-ah-ah. Like I said, a great performer never reveals his secrets. (Pause) But you’ve provided me with so much fun, I suppose it’s only fair to answer at least one of your questions. You wanted to know why I became the Trickster, right?

Hugo Strange: Currently, I am more curious about how you broke into my office and why, if you could manage that without getting caught, you didn’t just escape Arkham altogether.

Trickster: I didn’t escape Arkham for the same reason I became the Trickster: because I have more fun that way! (Pause) By the way, I’d advise you to tell everyone to not take showers today.

Hugo Strange: What? Why?

Trickster: You’ll find out, doctor. Just wait for it.

(Ten-second pause)

Riddler: Why is my showerhead spraying out pink paint instead of water?!

Trickster: Oh, there it is! (Pause, then dramatically) It seems as though some incorrigible yet incredibly handsome and intelligent scamp has swapped out all of the water in the shower systems with Pepto-Bismol pink paint!

Hugo Strange: TRICK-STER!

Trickster: That’s my name! Don’t wear it out! (Laughs)

#flash rogues #dr. hugo strange #the trickster #flash comics #batman comics #fanfic

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thr-333 · 3 years

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Drastic Measures- Part 7

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Chill~

Wrote it all in an hour and 20 minutes just about? Not bad, not bad at all.

Ao3

First< Previous

----------

“Why! Why does it have to be so cold!” Marinette pulls on her coat tighter.

“Why did you come if you’re just going to complain?” Damian scowls, looking over the list they were given.

“Dick asked me to,” Marinette shivers, “Besides I need to get out and see the city, you said you would show me,”

“I only agreed to this because Dick insisted I apologize for trying to kill you,”

“You were trying to kill me?”

“... No?”

“Damian,”

“Fine,” He pulls off the sweater he was wearing, the one she had made him, “My bad, now keep warm,”

“My bad is not an apology,” Marinette chides pulling the sweater on, “If you didn’t like the sweater you could have just said so,”

“That's not-” Damina turn to see her smirk, tutting then turning back around, “You're incorrigible,”

“Your apology is accepted,” Marinette giggles skipping slightly to catch up, she takes note of how he shivers as a gust of wind blows through, “Hey you're cold now right? I have an idea,”

“I’m not cold,” Damian snaps, picking up the pace, “Unlike you, I have more discipline than that,”

“Oh please, you grew up in the desert right?” Damian glares at her, “What? You think I didn’t know anything? Maman not as good at hiding things as she thinks she is,”

“Be careful where you say that,” He warns, they walk for a little while more the temperature dropping. Marinette continues to keep an incredulous eye on Damian. After ten minutes he sighs, “What's your idea?”

“It involves me getting on your back,”

“Not a chance,” Damian tuts, “You could stab me in the back,”

“Literally or figuratively?” Another glare but Marinette just smiles under it, “Fine then, I’ll just take this sweater off and we can both freeze,”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Damian snatches it off her, “I’ll just wear it,”

And so he does. They walk for a while longer Marinette simultaneously congratulating and cursing herself for picking such a warm fabric for Damian's sweater as she shivers in the cold Gotham winds. Her teeth are chattering and they are still a long way off from their destination. Marinette starts to slow down, ever since she had become ladybug her tolerance to the cold was lowering, like how Adrien's eyesight at night kept improving; although she probably got the short end of the stick for that one. Her thoughts are interrupted by a long suffered sigh from Damian.

“Fine, we’ll do your plan,”

“Really?!”

“If we actually want to get there today, yes,”

---

“This was your plan!” Damian shouts as they run down the street.

“It’s a great plan!’ Marinette clings to his back.

“Everyones staring,” Damian scowls, the sweater just big enough to stretch over both of them locking Marinette against his back.

“Then run faster!”

“Maybe if you stopped strangling me I would!”

“Oh please, stop being dramatic,”

“Why don't you start running and we’ll see whos being dramatic!”

“I could probably get there before you!”

“Yeah right, you-”

“Wait! Wait! Go back!” Marinette tugs, Damian lets out a choked sound stopping as he brings his hands up to remove hers.

“What,” He is unable to get her off with the sweater around them both.

“Pet store,” Marinette shimmies down, managing to get out with some difficulty, “Look how cute- wait,”

“Where are you going!” Damian calls as she storms into the pet store, he trails reluctantly behind her. Marinette walks right up to the desk slamming her hand down.

“Excuse me are you in charge of this store?”

“I’m the manager, yes,” The man raises an eyebrow looking up from his newspaper.

“Are you aware that the enclosure out there is filthy?”

“Animals get dirty,”

“It’s a health code violation,” Marinette scolds, “You're going to make the animals sick,”

“Tt, she’s right,” Damian looks around the store, the rest of the cages in even worse condition, “Just what sort of business do you think you're running? These are live animals, you can’t even see into the fish tank at this point,”

“I’ve followed company policy,” The manger huffs, going back to the newspaper adding a mocking, “So if you want to take it up with anyone take it up with them,”

“Oh I will,” Damian hisses, before going to the other end of the store intently tapping at his phone.

“Ha, have fun getting bounced around the phones for the next ten hours,” The manager barks, Marinette rolls her eyes turning back to him.

“Look it may not be required by your employer but try to have some compassion these are living creatures, they look miserable,”

“Well then, why don’t you buy them if they look so miserable,”

“That's not the root of the problem and you know it,” Marinette reasons with the unreasonable, “You’ll just replace them with more animals, this place isn’t fit for that,”

She could just feel the negative energy coming from the place, a place of suffering for those who had no way out. Her magic had perked the animals up a bit but that wouldn't solve the problems at hand. Not that any of this seemed to get through to the manager as Marinette kept arguing. She brought up her phone and articles to help support her argument. Only finding to her disdain that the pet store franchise itself had a long history of animal abuse, that this was the norm, not an exception. They just threw money at any lawsuit that came their way and bribing inspectors.

“Why are you even working here if you hate-”

“Excuse me,” A new customer walks up, Damian close behind, “Could I look-”

“Do whatever you like!” The manager snaps, “Can’t you see I’m busy here?!”

“Do you treat all your customers like this? No wonder your not getting any business if the facilities alone didn’t scare people off,” Marinette finally snaps. Damian, dare she say looks impressed, which probably isn’t a good sign.

“You’re insulting me now?”

“I’ve been insulting you the past hour, nice of you to catch on,”

From there it devolves into a full argument. They rage while Damian and the other customer poke around the store, talking to each other. Damian keeps on making calls and Marinette wishes he would stop and come help back her up, he seemed just as disgusted with this place as she was. But whenever she sends a look his way Damian just brushes her off going back to his call.

The argument escalates. Marinette's magic lashing out, subconsciously sending the animals into a frenzy. Barks and howls ring out mixed with cat yowls and whatever noise the other animals can manage.

“Quiet down you!” The manager roars, winding up to hit a puppy yapping at him, Marinette moves just a fraction of a second too slow.

“How dare you,” Damian catches the fist, twisting the arm in a painful unnatural position, “You’re fired,”

“You can’t fire me!” He struggles in Damian's grip, who in turn looks completely unfazed by the effort.

“Actually I can,” Damina flips his screen around to show a contract, “I just brought the company,”

“You what?!” Both Marinette and the manager shout at the same time.

“Yes well, it was easy enough to get in touch with the president of the company, when I put in my offer he laughed me off,” Damian shrugs letting the shell shocked man go, “So I called in one of our best lawyers,”

Damian nods to the other customer, who nods back.

“She built a case for us compiling evidence from this store, thank you for full access by the way,” Damian looks smugly at the manager gaping like a fish, “Other lawyers were in charge of inspecting other stores and researching past allegations, and I had some working internationally look at the branches in other countries, the results were not flattering,”

Damian's glare turns cold and piercing. Marinette had been on the receiving end of that glare and would like to think she handled it better than this guy was.

“Couple that all with the declarations I recorded from you arguing with Marinette,” Damina inclines his head to her, Marinette nods kind of dumbly, “And we had quite the case to shut the business down, you can guarantee the Wayne influence and lawyers would prevent this all from being swept under the rug,”

“Wayne?!”

“Yes, and as you can imagine after we sent through the case file the owner wasn't laughing me off the phone, he agreed to my price,” The man was sweating buckets now as Damian advanced looming over him, “The contracts aren't finalized or signed yet but you can guarantee by the end of the week I will own this place,”

Damian leans over him as the manager tries to sink into the floor.

“So. You. Are. Fired.”

---

“So are you going to teach me the glare that makes grown men pee their pants and run for their lives or do I have to figure it out myself?” Marinette teases, picking through the stocks in the back.

“You wouldn't be able to pull it off,” Damian shoots back, taking the bag she hands him, “An emergency demand was put out for new workers, they’ll be here soon to do this,”

“Oh no you don’t you little rich boy,” Marinette laughs at the face he makes, “You don’t just get to roll through here, throw some money at it and expect your job to be done, you took this company on so show a little responsibility,”

“I am taking responsibility,” Damian scowls, “I fully plan on improving this place,”

“What? By hiring someone to take over with the vague demands of ‘make it better’?” Damian sour look is all the answer she needs, “No way, this is your own responsibility and no one else's, so you need to take a long hard look at what's wrong and figure out how to fix it,”

“If I recall this all is partly your fault,” Damian stacks another bag where she told him too.

“If I recall I didn’t tell you to buy an entire pet store franchise,” Not that she didn’t approve, “But fine, I’ll help you out if you want,”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You didn’t have to,” Damian huffs and looks away, Marinette smiles and picks up a bag of food, “First things first, the food is horrible quality, it’s all filler with little nutritional value,”

“I’ll order new stock right away,” Damian takes out his phone, Marinette snatches it from him.

“Hold on now,” Damian gives her that little put off look she finds adorable, “You have to look at all the problems first then make a plan of action or you're just running around like a headless chicken,”

“Your point?”

“The staff are also underpaid, it’s not enough to live off and certainly not enough to motivate a good work ethic,” Marinette hands back the phone, Damian pockets it, “So before you go around firing everyone that's ever worked here why don’t you try changing the bones of the company then picking out the bad seeds?”

“Alright,” Damian concedes, “... You have a point,”

“Was that tough to admit?”

“The only excruciating part of it is your smugness,”

“Why hello kettle,” Damina gives her a light glare but she just laughs it off.

“All these changes are going to be expensive,” Damian frowns looking through the statistics the lawyers had sent them, “The company was already falling into debt,”

“It needs a hook,” Marinette hums, “Something new and unique that no other chain has…. I got it!!”

She brushes past him, going for her sketchbook and starting the brainstorming process.

“Would you like to share your epiphany?” Damian asks after about five minutes of watching her sketch. “An exclusive pet clothesline!”

“Oh boy,”

---

“See I was right wasn't I?” Marinette finishes fixing the outfit onto Titus.

“I was under the impression you were going to make something vapid and ridiculous,” Damian deflects, looking at the raincoat Marinette had made for Titus, it fit him perfectly and worked well with his fur color as well, “This is at least useful,”

“Wow, that might be a bigger compliment than ‘it’s well made’ or is it?” Marinette cocks her head to the side, “Should I start a ‘Damian's compliments’ tier list?”

“Do not,” Damian calls Titus back to him, taking off the raincoat, “This should at least partly help make up for the new expenses,”

“What changes should we make first?” Marinette follows Damian inside, already sketching new designs into her book.

“There's no point in launching the pet clothes until the company goes through its rebrand, and that will take some time anyway,” They settle in a study they had commandeered to work together in, a sewing machine up near the window, “By the way whats your design fee?"

“Hm… make me a co-owner and we’ll forget about the design fee,” Marinette smiles as Damian doesn't immediately look disgusted by the prospect, “Besides If I recall this is partly my fault,”

“Fine co-owner,” Damian rolls his eyes at her, “I guess we’ll be drafting a new contract,”

“Make sure our shares are 50/50,”

“80/20,”

“Awe you’d let me have 80%”

Damian gives her a withering glare with no heat.

“50/50,” Marinette holds out her hand, “Equal,”

“... Equal,” Damian takes her hand, “You better design a lot of clothes,”

“Already on it,” Marinette holds up her new sketchbook, dedicated to just this, “Plus I’ll be part of the planning so let me in on it,”

“I was-” Damian cuts off glaring towards the door, Marinette follows his eye to see Dick and Adrien caught like deer in headlights looking at them with phones held up.

“Adrien!” Marinette starts towards them getting overtaken by Damian as they both start sprinting.

“Delete it or I destroy your phone!” He threatens, chasing them down the hall.

“Already backed it up to several computers!” Dick calls back, disappearing around the corner, the three yells disappearing into the distance. Marinette chuckles to herself, going back to finish up her designs.

--------

No tag list :P

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #MLB #ML #ml fic #Marinette #miraculous marinette #badass marinette #maribat #daminette

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magioftheseas · 3 years

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Back to December

For @badthingshappenbingo and @i-demand-a-hug

Prompt: Don’t You Dare Pity Me taken from here.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Implied (?) mental instability and implicit references to death.

Summary: It was another morning where he wakes up entangled with Akechi Goro, and his phone buzzes.

Notes: That prompt could be stapled onto any shuake fic, because these two just be like that. But it’s friendly friend’s birthday and I thought I’d complete something more bitter than sweet. It’s been a while since I finished another prompt on my bthb, so here’s to another bingo! It’s pretty short, too, so I hope it’s an easy read in that respect.

***Alternate Ao3 Link*** Commission? Donate?

It’s not just any other morning, but Akira wakes up like it is. Face half-buried into chestnut locks, spooning a warm, sinewy figure—Akira wakes up with a contented sigh. The other stirs, but remains otherwise asleep. Akira is half-tempted to squeeze his eyes back shut and revel in the scent of cinnamon spice and jasmine.

But his phone buzzes, so he has to detangle himself to answer.

>Coming to get you. Will be there at eleven.

He’s half-tempted to text Ryuji back and tell him not to bother. Obviously, he doesn’t and instead texts back a single letter. With his usual smile, he refrains from chucking his phone and instead sets it carefully aside.

Akechi shifts, rolling onto his back. He barely rustles the sheets, but Akira tugs them over his shoulder anyway. His smile is a bit softer when Akechi groans. When Akechi throws a hand on his face, digging his palm into his eye.

“What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

Akechi’s uncovered eye opens to glare at him.

“That’s not what I mean. Have you really been avoiding looking at your calendar again?”

He’s long torn the thing down. Neutrally, he shakes his head.

“I’ll make you coffee. Come on.”

Akechi groans again, louder and with more purpose.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Yeah,” was his easy response. “I know. Three cubes of sugar as always?”

“You should stop wasting that on me.”

“Three cubes it is.”

It’s easy to glide into the kitchen as he always does. To pluck out some coffee beans to grind.

“Just instant is fine,” Akechi says from behind. “You shouldn’t go through too much effort. It’s not like my standards are that high, considering I’m with you.”

Akira gives him a grin. “All the more reason to spoil you, detective. The most expensive brand of beans we have it is.”

“It’s all just going to waste,” Akechi replied, straight-faced and unimpressed. “Seriously, Kurusu, what are you doing?”

He was grinding coffee beans and making coffee, obviously. There was no need to answer when it was obvious. Hell, it was routine. A nice, hot, high-quality cup of coffee was placed on the table for Akechi, with three sugar cubes added. Just as the detective liked it.

Akechi settles into the chair that Akira pulls out for him. Akechi sighs, looking quite tired, but not protesting as Akira squeezes his shoulders. Rather than protesting, Akechi sips at his coffee. There’s the slightest hint of a sparkle in his gaze at the taste, just as Akira remembers.

It’s nice to imagine you like this, he thinks. Domestic and content. Comfortable and mine.

In moments like these, his desire to embrace Akechi and squeeze was almost overbearing. At the very least, he wants so dearly to hold the other’s hand and entwine their fingers together. Because Akechi won’t let him, he settles for just placing his hand atop the other’s. He feels Akechi squeeze it into a fist, tense and not lightening up even when Akira strokes his knuckles.

“Stop,” he orders, almost weakly.

Akira grips the other’s hand. Akechi scowls at him but makes no move to physically pry him off. It’s cowardice that Akira holds no love for and absolutely doesn’t want to concede to.

“Kurusu,” Akechi hisses, but any move he makes is a barebones shift towards him. It’s infuriating, and that must show on Akechi’s face which darkens like the sky before a storm. “Kurusu...”

“Goro,” Akira returns cheekily, nuzzling into Akechi’s nape. He presses a kiss to the cervical spine, another to the base of the skull, and finally one atop the crown. Akechi’s honey-brown hair is as soft as it’s ever been against his lips.

“Stop this nonsense,” Akechi snaps at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Do you want a bullet point list?”

“Your jokes are horrible, Kurusu.”

“That’s Joker to you.” Akira finally felt his smile twitch. “Or leader, if you’re so inclined. I don’t think calling me by my surname like we’re just acquaintances is appropriate anymore. We’re much closer than that, don’t you think?”

Akechi turns away to scowl at his coffee. Clicking his tongue in disapproval, Akira leans in to kiss his jaw.

“Sakamoto is on his way,” Akechi reminds him stiffly and irritably.

“I’ll make the most of our time together before then.”

“Our time.” Akechi lets out a laugh, low and ugly and so very lovely for it. It’s nothing like the saccharine giggle of the second detective prince, but it’s so wonderfully Akechi Goro, even if it’s more muted than before.

“Your time,” Akechi then corrected him with a snarl, fitting an impressive amount of disdain into just that word.

“My time,” Akira agreed if only to show his fondness. “I’d give you all of it, you know. If only you’d ask.”

“Because I ran out of it?” Akechi looked so terribly unamused. “I don’t need your fucking charity. Nor your pity.”

Akira simply smiles at him.

“I don’t need your pity,” Akechi reiterates. “So, stop with this, Kurusu. Let me go. Let me leave.”

Let you leave me?

“You don’t have anywhere else to go,” Akira reminded him simply. With how understanding he was, he felt no annoyance. He did, however, feel a little sad when Akechi’s beautiful face crumbled like wet tissue.

“Please let me leave.”

You said not to pity you when you make a face like this...

“What value is there in keeping me around?” Akechi asked him next, still so outwardly broken with glittering pieces that Akira took in avidly. “Isn’t this hurting you?”

You really are...stronger than you think.

In lieu of a verbal answer, Akira takes the other’s hands and presses into them so very greedily.

When Ryuji finally arrived, Akira only had one last thing to say to Akechi Goro.

“Stay.”

Alongside the now cold cup of coffee, the once detective had no other choice to remain where he was. Still, Akira felt a little anxious as he stepped outside. And Ryuji, still, seemed a bit awkward. He still offered a wide grin, but the strain at the edges was undeniable.

“Hey, man, I know it, uh...” Ryuji pauses for a moment to shuffle uncomfortably. “With what time of the year it is, I figured... It wouldn’t be cool to let you stay in an empty house all day.”

Akira nods. “Mm.”

Nothing else would come, but Ryuji’s gaze was still warm with sympathy. Pity.

Akira’s gaze falls, but for Ryuji’s sake, he doesn’t look back even though he wants to.

It was just going to be another one of those days.

#shuake #akeshu #Persona 5 #Magi fics #bad things bingo

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carelessannie · 3 years

Text

maybe it goes like this: tony courts peter (part 4)

Read on A03

Read the Stuckony backstory

Starker focus (Tony x Peter), Stuckony (Steve x Bucky x Tony), (Clint x Peter x OFC), also a bit of WinterHawk and SpiderHawk

Starker first date goes about as well as expected with Bucky and Clint as their chaperones...

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, Panic Attacks, Clint Barton is a mess

—

Maybe it goes like this:

“Alright Petey, you wanna quiz me?”

Peter rolls his eyes, and gives Clint a little push, “Are you sure it’s me going on this date, and not you? You’re literally incorrigible.”

“And you love me.”

“And I love you, you whore.”

Clint cackles, “I’ll take it.”

They decided to walk from their apartment to the coffee shop, Peter insisting that the chilly walk in the early November air would bring a natural blush to their complexion and wind-swept quality to their hair. Clint can’t complain— he loves Washington Square and walking around with a pretty Omega on his arm. Sue him.

“— packmates?”

And no one ever gave him an award for a stellar attention span.

“Sorry Pete, what was that?”

“I asked, what are the names of Tony’s packmates?”

Clint pretends to think as Peter gives him a searching look, “Steve and James. But James likes to go by Bucky.”

Peter does a small skip-hop in joy, “Yes! Perfect!” and reaches up on his tiptoes to dot a kiss on Clint’s cheek. Making Peter happy and receiving little kisses has been the biggest incentive to learn trivia about the Omega’s new boyfriend.

“Okay, okay, next one: how old is Tony?”

“Thirty,”

“Yes! And as a bonus, how old are his packmates?” Peter gives him a smug grin, playfully challenging Clint to answer right.

“Steve is twenty-five and Bucky is twenty-four.”

Peter claps his tiny hands together, with a little squeal of joy, and stops Clint in his tracks, pulling him down for a peck right on his lips.

He ducks his head, sheepish from the affection of his gorgeous packmate, and a blush blooms red across his cheeks. Peter doesn’t give him a moment to recover, quickly tugging him along as they finish their trek across the Park.

“Alright, last one, C.” Peter presses the crosswalk button, even though the way is clear, but before he can ask the question Clint squeezes his hand and pulls him across the street. Peter lets out a small protest of no, Clint, we can’t as they run, but the crosswalk is short and the street isn’t busy, so they are almost immediately on the other side.

“Clint—” Peter goes to lecture him, probably about road safety and traffic laws, so Clint interrupts him,

“Last question? Look, we’re almost there,” and they are, so it’s a good distraction for his pouty packmate.

“Oh goodness, you’re right. Okay. Last one then: how long have they been together?”

Knowing that Peter has talked about this a few times, and might expect a few different answers, Clint gives him the long one, “Well. You said they’ve been a pack for two years,”

“Right,”

“That Tony met Steve four years ago, and Bucky the year after, but Steve and Bucky were already together,”

“Right again,”

“And Steve and Bucky have known each other since they were kids, but didn’t get together until college.”

“Right, right, right! Gosh, I’m so proud of you, C.” The younger boy looks so happy, and Clint can’t help pulling Peter’s hand up to place a light kiss across his knuckles, waiting for the last crosswalk light to turn.

“I’m proud of you, Pete, and you’re gonna have a great time with him today. You just pretend like we’re invisible, and I’ll just casually pry for personal information and signal to you if we need to run, okay?”

Peter giggles and his smile brightens as he pulls Clint across the street to the coffee shop, “Somehow I feel like we’re gonna be fine.”

---

It was sheer stupidity to worry about Clint getting along with Bucky.

The moment they enter the coffee shop, Clint can hear a loud voice calling, “Peter,” and looks to his side to gauge Peter’s reaction, realizing the tiny Omega is already halfway across the cafe.

Clint trails along slowly, amused by the handsome, older man cooing over his small, beautiful date. Peter is dwarfed in the larger man’s arms, and Clint has never seen him look this content. And it’s been like twenty seconds.

“Tony! This is my packmate, Clint,” he reaches forward to shake Tony’s hand, exchanging good to meet you’s, as the older man grips tighter and quirks his lips up in a secret smile. The expression elevates his charm even further, and Clint lets his hand be dropped in awe.

“Oh, and this is Bucky,” Tony steps a little to the right to reveal another dark, stunning man, who flashes him a heartbreaking smile. Damn, where does Peter find these guys?

He doesn’t even hesitate, grabbing Bucky’s hand and pulling him a little closer, as Bucky’s smile turns from amused to knowing. Bucky leans closer, and whispers so only he can hear,

“I have a thing for blondes.”

Fuck.

Clint turns to Peter, “Let’s marry them. Please.”

Peter just giggles, turning killer doe-eyes on Tony, and it looks like Tony wants to mate the Omega right then and there. Clint is a horrible chaperone, but glad they all seem to be on the same page.

Bucky claps his hands, pulling all three of them out of their mild trance, and suggests grabbing tables and ordering coffee. He gives a pointed stare to Tony, and then turns it on Clint.

Oh. That’s a hint to get lost.

Tony pats Clint on the shoulder, nodding his head towards the counter as they leave the other two men to acquire tables.

“So Tony,”

“So, Clint. What— uh. What does Pete usually drink?”

They get in line, and Clint gives the menu a critical eye.

“Doesn’t he drink coffee in the lab?”

Tony looks a little uncomfortable, but answers easily, “Sure, but he usually drinks the drip coffee black. I want to get him something special, so I figured you would know what he treats himself to.”

“Alright, make a guess.”

“Huh?” Clint smiles a bit at Tony’s confusion,

“I know what he likes, but I want to see what you would get him, what you think he likes.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to eye the menu, humming in thought—

“Something sweet, but with a little twist. Maybe salted caramel? Uh. I’m gonna go with salted caramel latte, with extra whipped cream.”

It’s a good guess, and honestly Peter probably would like it, but Clint wants to watch this man be proved wrong.

“Maybe,” immediately Tony’s smile deflates a bit, “but a few months ago he discovered the London Fog, and it’s his guilty pleasure drink. You were right he likes a twist, and the earl grey adds like... a spice, or something, to the sweet vanilla latte— but he actually doesn’t like coffee all that much. He actually prefers tea, but coffee has more caffeine.”

Tony nods, seeming intrigued and distracted, before focusing back on Clint,

“But you like it black, don’t you?” tilting his head, it feels like Tony is answering a question he studied hard for.

And he’s not wrong, “Yeah, I prefer it black, Tony.”

“Okay, good.” and that’s the end of the conversation. Tony steps up to order as Clint waits behind him— just a little irritated when Tony orders for all of them.

In addition to the London Fog and large black coffee, Tony places an order for a small cappuccino and a large dark chocolate iced coffee with extra whipped cream and a doppio shot of espresso. As they carry the orders back to the table, along with a half dozen pastries, Clint is torn between his excitement to see Peter’s reaction and his anticipation to see which drink Tony ended up with— and which one is hot-Bucky’s.

“Here, honey,” Tony hands over the London Fog to a grabby Peter, who inhales deeply and lights up in surprise.

“H— how did you know, Tony? Oh my god, this is my favorite, thank you—”

Clint and Bucky exchange an eye roll at the sappy couple, and Tony swoons, “Honestly, Clint tipped me off. I had no idea that you prefer tea, baby.”

They take this as their cue, and Clint grabs his mug, waiting to see which drink Bucky will take before making their way over to a nearby table.

Naturally, Bucky grabs the iced coffee, smiling softly, and places his hand on Tony’s shoulder, giving him a short kiss on the lips. Both Peter and Clint stare in shock as Tony deepens the kiss, pulling Bucky closer and… yep, that’s his tongue. They pull away, both looking smug, and Tony turns back to Peter as if the world didn’t just stop spinning.

Bucky leads the way back to their table, and Clint has to adjust himself in his pants, thankful for the comfy seat and a table in between them as they sit down.

“Okay, first of all, that was hot.”

He gets a wink in response as Bucky sucks his straw into his mouth, slurping obscenely instead of responding, and Clint quickly takes a swig of his coffee as a distraction, sputtering as it burns his tongue.

“Aw, coffee, no.” and Bucky is laughing now, reaching over to grab his arm as his posture relaxes.

And there’s something else— underneath the coffee shop smell, the scent of Oranges and Milk Chocolate and HappyContentRelaxedOmega.

Oh. Alright then.

Clint’s experience with Omegas is limited to his two packmates, so he lets himself enjoy the calming scent coming from the beautiful man across from him until—

“Hey man, you good?” concerned steel-blue eyes gaze across the table at him, and he feels completely out of his depth.

“Yeah, just burned my tongue,” he takes another sip, mindlessly, and immediately regrets it, “Ow— shit.”

The mug is pulled out of his hands, “Wow, you’re a human wreck, aren’t you?” but Bucky’s expression is indulgent and teasing instead of cruel, so Clint smiles along, grateful.

“All day, every day, gorgeous.”

And after that, conversation flows naturally, both men laid back and enjoying a day to people-watch and drink expensive coffee. Occasionally they turn their attention back to Tony and Peter, the couple sitting close together and feeding each other small bites of pastry.

Bucky and Clint both shudder simultaneously. Gross.

So they mostly ignore their packmates, instead bonding about sports. Like idiots. Clint learns about Bucky’s past in baseball and football, and he shares about his time in the Olympics, to which Bucky—

“You’re shitting me, right? You’re the amazing Hawkeye? I literally followed your career when you were in Rio, and oh my god, you were in Rio,” Bucky looks around frantically, as if he’s trying to find a witness to this story, and Clint just grins.

“Clint fucking Barton—”

“— and that is officially my middle name—”

“— shut up, and you medaled, right?”

Aw, such a cute Omega. “Gold and Silver, hot stuff.”

It’s not often that Clint can make an Omega swoon, and technically there has only been one official occurrence of said event, but he basks in the praise that Bucky gives him for this, thanking the all-powerful archery gods for his performance two years ago.

“Clint, that’s literally so cool. I mean— Tony does cool stuff all day long in the lab, and— and I can flex about my degree and high school sports stats, or my Alpha’s career in the Army, but—”

“Wait,” Clint interrupts, suddenly going still at Bucky’s words, “you had an Alpha?”

Bucky looks confused, “No, I have an Alpha. Tony and I do— didn’t Peter mention Steve?”

He feels the walls closing in around him. Of course he’s heard about Steve, but had no idea—

Drawing his imaginary bow, he catches Peter’s eyes and releases the arrow. Peter signs back a discreet I love you in ASL.

Clint heads for their table, knowing Peter has received his distress signal.

---

Bucky’s not quite sure what just happened.

He sits at the table, watching silently as Clint walks over to Peter, pulls him to the side, and the two packmates have brief, intense conversation.

Tony looks his way, curiously, and all he can do is shrug his shoulders.

He retraces their conversation quickly— was it the Olympics? No, Clint was perfectly happy to preen about that. Was it about his time in the military? Some people are hesitant to ask about that, but Clint had seemed fine. That is until he mentioned—

“We’re leaving, I’m so sorry, Tony,”

Peter is now tucked protectively underneath Clint’s arm, the Beta avoiding all eye contact, as his packmate apologizes for the inconvenience.

“— we have personal stuff that just came up, pack stuff, and need to cut this short.”

Tony gently strokes the Omega’s concerned face, smoothing out the lines of worry.

“Honey, do whatever you need to, okay? And please call me if you need anything. I swear, Pete.”

Peter nods seriously, “Of course, Tony. And we’ll have our second date soon, right?” a hopeful expression coming over his pretty features as Clint noticeably pulls him closer.

“... of course, Peter. I would love nothing more.”

With a quick kiss to the back of Peter’s hand, Tony lets him go— Clint sweeping the smaller boy out of the coffee shop and back down the street.

Bucky still hasn’t moved, and Tony is frozen with his hand still raised, watching the two men hurry away.

“... What did you say.”

Tony turns slowly, face carefully blank, as he takes a step in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky shakes his head, “I— I don’t know—”

“Don’t lie to me, James. What did you say to Clint?”

His vision is starting to get fuzzy, and all Bucky wants to do is sit, but he’s trapped under the weight of his Beta’s gaze and Dominant voice.

“J— jus’ said. St— Stevie,” he chokes on his next breath, “Stevie’s our… A—alpha.”

He still senses anger from his Beta, and instinctively hunches in his shoulders, making himself smaller, as exposes his neck in submission.

“Shit,” Tony curses, and Bucky whimpers, unsure why his Beta is so displeased with him.

“Someone bring us coffee, please? My mate is dropping—“

Oh, coffee. Coffee is good.

He sips on the warm drink that’s placed in his hands moments later, but then remembers Clint’s FearProtectEscape scent, and the mug almost shakes out of his hands, hitting the table in front of him.

Tony takes it gently, pulling his seat closer, and Bucky is so scared at how easily he’s swung submissive. It’s been years since the last time he made a scene in public, and he can’t get a grip on himself. But it doesn’t matter as everything slips away.

There are suddenly fingers on his chin, lifting his gaze back to Tony, and his Beta stares into his eyes for a moment before cursing again and pulling out his phone, letting Bucky’s head drop.

Down.

At the low urgency of his Beta’s voice, he sinks down, down, down, further into his head.

He sinks down, knees hitting the hardwood flooring and face planting firmly into Tony’s thigh. He breathes in deep, and is pleased to feel calloused fingers petting his hair. The rhythm pulls him down, and all he can think about is the steady thrum of his Beta’s pulse and the solid grounding of the wood under his knees. He mouths absently at the fabric in front of him.

And then he’s flying. Up.

But wait. He can’t fly.

Oh— a summer thunderstorm. Maybe he is flying, then. Up, up, up, he’s lifted by strong arms, and a familiar low voice. His vision swims in front of him, brief images flashing and drifting past his subconscious, and he’s content to be wrapped tight in the scent of home.

“A— alpha, please,” he whispers, and feels a low rumble start on his right side, warm and content.

He floats.

Time passes.

But then he’s cold again.

Confused, he feels around for the comforting warmth from before, but can’t find it. He opens his eyes and it’s dark. He tries to move, to climb out of this dark place, but his arms are trapped, pinned by his sides.

His breathing picks up.

“No, no no nooo—” he’s so alone. He tries to think back to what happened, to what he did to be punished this way, and remembers his Beta’s displeasure, the disappointment. He can’t remember, doesn’t understand—

“Bucky?”

“No, please, ‘m sorry sir, please, no—”

“Dammit Tony, I knew we shouldn’t have left him—”

He cries harder as he’s shifted around, hoping his punishment will be quick.

Instead, his arms are freed, and a merciful, bright light, brings him up, closer to the surface. Warm again, Bucky sobs in the safety of strong arms, whispering sorries into his Alpha’s neck as he’s cradled close.

At some point he must pass out, because he wakes up slowly to the familiar scent of their den at home. He hears low murmurs of his packmates talking nearby, and tries to blink open his eyes. He takes in the feeling of being held, wrapped with both sets of arms around his waist, and hums in appreciation. The voices go silent as one arm lifts to brush his hair off his face,

“Buck, are you coming back up?”

He takes inventory before responding, checking his senses and pushing through the cloudiness in his head to give his Alpha a nod yes.

“Good boy, so proud of you,” the sweet voice croons back to him, and he feels himself smile at the praise. “Tony, grab the tray we set out, two water bottles and the juice.”

He’s moved, sitting now, and blinks open his eyes to watch his Beta place the tray in front of them on the bed and hand a bottle of water their Alpha. The pieces of food on the tray are his favorites, he knows, but doesn’t waste energy figuring it out. His Alpha and Beta will take care of that for him.

“Tony, do you want to hold him or feed him?”

There’s a small pause, and a sigh, before his Alpha is speaking again, “Fine, you’ll hold him.”

He’s picked up, his Alpha scenting him briefly, before setting Bucky in between firm legs, propping him up against a rigid chest.

Bucky tries to curl up again, already feeling the hesitation and rejection coming from his Beta, but a low growl from their Alpha has both packmates stilling, before relaxing together.

“I swear to god Tony, do not put your insecurities on him. Comfort our Omega, or I swear to god I will lock you out of our den for a week, understood?”

Bucky doesn’t have to turn to look to know Tony’s face is scrunching up, even as he answers, “Yes, Alpha,” and Bucky can’t help but laugh a bit, closing his eyes and wiggling back into Tony’s arms as they close around him.

He peeks to look at Steve, and sees the tail end of a fond smile aimed towards both his packmates.

The water bottle is opened with an audible snap and gently pressed up against his lips as Steve murmurs drink, baby and he obeys, the cool liquid bringing him up even further and satisfying his thirst.

After a few moments, the bottle is empty and Steve is praising him again as he replaces the water with a few pieces of cheese and sweet chocolate. Bucky watches as Steve gathers each piece intentionally, before feeding them to Bucky— each time praising him for the simple task of chewing and swallowing.

With the fourth bite, Bucky sucks one of Steve’s fingers into his mouth, giving it a light nip before Steve pulls it free, be good falling from his lips, even as his eyes darken and stay glued to Bucky’s mouth.

“Feeling better, love?” Tony whispers into his shoulder, dropping a small kiss onto the skin right above his Alpha’s sweatshirt— the one they like to wrap him in when he floats after a scene. Bucky tries to twist and see Tony’s face, but the Beta keeps him facing forward as he confesses, “I feel horrible that I dropped you in public like that. You were there, helping me out, and I really hurt you. I’m so sorry, baby—”

Now Bucky really breaks the hold, turning in his Beta’s lap to see his face— pulling Tony’s hands out of the way,

“Tony, it's okay now. I’m safe, and you did the best that you could. ’m not mad at you.”

If anything, Tony’s face looks even more upset and devastated, “But I didn’t, though. I yelled and left you alone in the car and was way too focused on the Omega that I’m trying to court, and completely forgot that it’s you I’m committed to, and you I’m responsible for—”

“— okay, first of all, you are not responsible for me,” Bucky cuts in, “Yeah, we’re mates and look after each other, but even Stevie here isn’t responsible for me. I’m in charge of that, got it? We scene together and look after each other, but just because you’re my Dom doesn’t give you control of my life,” Steve rubs his back in encouragement, and this gives him the strength to finish, “Second, sweetheart, I had the best time meeting Peter and Clint. It’s my fault Clint freaked out, and I don’t know… something about that caused me to swing really fast.”

Steve speaks before Tony can, “Wait, what happened with Clint?”

“Oh, I guess I didn’t mention,” Tony answers, pulling Bucky to his side and throwing an arm over his shoulder, “something freaked Clint out and he left early with Peter.”

“But what—”

“Steve,” Bucky grabs his mate’s hand, “I think it had something to do with you being pack Alpha.”

Even Tony tenses up at Bucky’s words, and before Steve can say anything else, he tries to explain, “I don’t know what happened. One minute we were talking about the Olympics— which, Stevie, he’s like a crazy talented archer, you wouldn’t even believe it— but I mention our pack Alpha and he flips. He makes some sort of signal to Peter, and the two of them practically ran outta there.”

“Oh man,” Steve says as Tony curses under his breath, “what do you think— Tony, did you know about this at all?”

“I swear, I had no idea. Pete said his whole Ado-pack was excited to meet you guys, so I assumed…”

The Alpha shakes his head, “No, I get it. He must have some sort of trauma— maybe a previous pack with an abusive pack Alpha.”

Bucky reaches forward, pulling their Alpha’s hand in a silent invitation. They readjust, letting Steve lay in the middle, and curl up on either side of him. He traces a finger around Steve’s abs, teasing a little lower until he hears a throat clear, and Tony laces their fingers together instead. Bucky shakes with laughter, and kisses Steve’s side, “Baby, there’s nothing you can do. It wasn’t you.”

“Love you, Steve,” Tony adds, "I’ll talk to Petey, see what the damage is. You guys come first— Peter knows that.” he sounds resigned, so Bucky squeezes his hand, sending over an empathetic smile.

Steve strokes both of their heads, protective and affectionate, “I love you guys,” leaning down, Steve brushes a kiss over Tony’s forehead, “Don’t worry, my Beta, I have a feeling you won’t have to choose.”

Tony’s mouth ticks upward in a grin as he lets his eyes close, “I hope so, Alpha.”

---

A few hours earlier

Clint measures his steps, walking fast without drawing unnecessary attention, as he approaches Peter and Tony’s table. He grabs Peter’s arm, and the younger man is already standing, looking up at him with concern and fear in his eyes.

“We need to leave, now.”

“What happened? Did Bucky—”

“No, Bucky’s fine, it’s me. I have to get out of here.”

“Do I need to call Annie? Are you gonna drop?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” it’s now taking physical effort to breathe normally, “please, Pete.”

Peter nods once, studying Clint’s face for a moment before tucking himself under Clint’s arm, and he focuses on the glass window, pretending he’s outside and far away from this place. He hears Peter’s voice, and Tony’s voice, but all of it muddles together as he concentrates on keeping his head clear.

“... nothing more,” Tony’s saying, giving a brief kiss to Peter’s delicate hand, and Clint pulls the Omega closer, mind focusing on the singularity of getting them home, keeping his pack safe.

He steers Peter through the door, walking them in a haze back across the busy streets, park sidewalks, and a few blocks further to their apartment. His Omega is obediently silent, beautifully pliant, and Clint instinctively rewards him, stroking through his hair and kissing his fingers as they work their way through the building and up the stairs to their apartment.

They stop in front of the door and Clint grunts open it, sweet Omega and keys jingle in the lock, his Omega perfectly opening the door and letting them through. He wraps his Omega in both arms, scenting deeply, and enjoying HappyContentRelaxedOmega.

But he’s on a mission.

He grabs his Omega, “Nest.” and waits for the verbal confirmation, “Yes, Beta.” before continuing, trusting his Omega to follow his order.

He scents the apartment, walking through the rooms at a steady prowl until he catches sweet Strawberries and Salted Caramel coming from the kitchen.

He sees his Omega in the kitchen, gathering food and water for their nest. She sees him standing at the entrance, but doesn’t submit. He growls at her in warning, but she just returns his gaze.

“Omega.” he gives one more warning, and she finally drops her eyes. Good.

He stalks closer, moving her hair to the side, and scenting her thoroughly, offering his own wrist for her to use. A few kisses to her neck, and he enjoys the scent of HappyContentRelaxedOmega for the third time tonight, silently urging her to gather the materials for their nest and follow him to find their Omega.

He makes his way toward the bedroom. His Omega has built a beautiful nest, warm and inviting, with perfect lighting and ample protection from outside threats. Both Omegas finish setting up the fortress, and start to strip.

He growls slightly, and they stop obediently, submitting to his wishes. He steps forward, slowly pulls both of them out of shirts, shoes, and pants, leaving intimate parts covered and perfect skin unveiled.

“Me.” he commands, and both Omegas move quickly, stripping his shirt and pants until all of them stand in a similar state of dress.

He steps forward to inspect the nest, already having approved of it thus far, and crawls towards the center, checking the scent distribution.

“More. Annie.” and a shirt is tossed his way. He scents the item and places it in their nest, continuing his path to the center.

“Come.”

One at a time, his pack joins him in their nest, and he settles them next to each other, covering their vulnerable areas with soft blankets, and cushioning their heads with pillows.

He joins them, sliding in between so that they are curled into his side, protected under his arms. Safe. Warm. Home.

“Sleep.” he growls, letting himself drift now that his pack is safe.

---

A few hours later, he starts to climb back into consciousness.

He can hear his pack talking near him, but it’s mostly nonsense. His mind feels heavy and blank, and all he can think about is keeping them safe. Keeping himself safe.

He opens his eyes, sitting up suddenly, and his packmates turn to look at him.

He goes to command them, needing control over the situation, but his Omega sits up taller, refusing to bare her throat to him.

“Apple,” she stares into his eyes, gripping his jaw, firm, and coaxing his mouth open. She slides the fruit between his lips and he knows— it’s familiar—

“Chew, Clint. C’mon.” and he obeys, taking a crisp bite. As he chews, he enjoys the sweet and tangy flavors, grounding him. He swallows.

“Banana,” oh, he knows now, and opens his lips to let Annie feed him a small bite of banana, letting the sweet and soft tastes contrast clearly in his mouth, and he hums appreciatively.

“Last one, Clint. You’re doing great, and I need you to answer. What is this?” Annie holds the last piece up to his lips, and Clint gives her a sweet smile,

“Carrot,” and Annie slips it into his mouth, letting him crunch down on it. So different from the fruits, Clint feels the hard veggie pull him back to the present, and he blinks in awareness.

Oh, shit.

Clint feels tears sting his eyes, as he looks for Peter,

“Pete, I’m... oh my god, I'm s-so sorry, I don’t even know what happened—”

The small Omega crawls towards him on the nest, making sure not to show his neck and continues to maintain eye contact, cupping his cheek tenderly,

“Hush. We’ll talk about it in a minute— but... Clint, you dropped in the coffee shop, I think, and you swung dominant.”

He knew it was something bad, and Clint starts to pull away, terrified of hurting his pack further—

Thump!

“Ow!” Clint grabs at the stinging on his temple, right where Annie just flicked him,

“You absolute idiot,” she chastises, turning his face to look her way, “Clint do you even know how wonderful of a Dom you were this afternoon? Even in your drop you protected us so well, so of course we kept you safe.”

He stays silent, dropping his eyes, and Peter presses up against his side in solid comfort.

Annie continues, “I know swinging dominant is hard for you, I get it. But you’re not like him, okay? You kept us safe, and we kept you safe. Give yourself a break.”

It’s hard to believe, but he nods anyway, murmuring a quiet thanks to his packmates.

They are content to sit in silence for a few moments, filling their nest with Happy and Home.

Annie breaks the silence again,

“So— who’s gonna tell me what happened?”

Clint defers to Peter, hoping to get their smaller packmate to gush about his date, but Peter doesn’t take the hint,

“I’m drinking tea with Tony, talking about improving efficiency of hydroelectricity in international power exchange, and suddenly Clint is giving me the panic sign and we’re running out of there,” he takes a sip of his tea, “okay, it’s your turn, C.”

Damn the pretty minx.

“I— okay, it’s not all clear to me. One minute, I’m hitting it off with this gorgeous Omega— yeah, Pete, you were right— and then he mentions his pack Alpha and I just lost it,” he turns to Peter, feeling hurt again, “why didn’t you tell me they had a pack Alpha?”

“C—clint I honestly… I had no idea. Tony never even mentioned that Bucky was an Omega, I guess I thought— I’m honestly so sorry, I assumed they were both Omegas, like our pack. Tony’s just so dominant—”

“No, it’s not— it’s not your fault, Petey.”

“How dominant?” throwing a sly smile, Annie redirects the conversation innocently, and Peter lets out a scandalous gasp.

“Annie!”

She laughs, grabbing at him to tickle his sides which makes him squeal,

“I wanna hear all about our future pack, guys, so tell me: how dominant is this guy? You said he’s a Beta, right?”

Clint and Peter exchange a hesitant look, and Peter speaks up, “Future pack?”

Annie looks between them and rolls her eyes,

“Well, you had a compatible memory with Tony, right? And Bucky sounds like a whole snack. We’ll work up to meeting Steve, but for now, it’s a definite possibility.”

Clint wants to protest this, upset at how his best friend is so easily dismissing his past trauma, but takes a moment to think. He did really like Bucky, and Tony is incredibly handsome and charming. Oh, and he looked like Peter’s second half— even on their first date.

While he’s silent, thinking over the options, Peter has been sharing details about his admirer with Annie, who is looking more and more intrigued by the second.

“— so he brought you your all time favorite drink—”

“— by Clint’s suggestion—”

Annie waves it off, “and then what?”

Ah, Clint almost forgot about that kiss.

He moans, dramatically and indecently, but it gets Annie’s attention,

“Watching Tony and Bucky kiss almost had me fucking coming in my pants, Annie—” she snorts a laugh, and Peter shakes his head, interrupting—

“No, Annie, it was so hot. You know how you like it when I make out with Clint?” she nods, mouth hanging wide open, “like that— but it was Tony.”

At that, Clint rolls his eyes, “It was Toneeyyy,” he mocks, getting both Omegas to laugh as Peter throws a pillow at him.

“Shut up, Clint,” Annie smacks him in the arm lightly, “leave the horny Omega alone.”

Peter gasps again, “Betrayal!”

Both of them cackle and pull Peter close, ignoring his pouty face and snuggling him close. Clint relaxes around his pack, thankful again to have them so close to him tonight, and is surprised when Annie, and then Peter, start purring.

Clint hums, “You two are my favorites.” and his packmates both press closer.

He’s unsure about the future. Unsure about things changing so fast. But as long as these two stick next to him, he can face his fears, knowing he’s not alone.

“Good,” Peter whispers, “because I want Tony to visit soon, and formally meet our pack.”

#starker #stuckony #stucky #stony #d/s fic #panic tw #clint barton #peter parker #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #winteriron #ofc #fluff #angst #fanfic #MiGLT #omegaverse

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

Note

How about some eventual snuggling with Kili who used to tease human!reader for not having her first kiss yet? I just love the way you portray the brothers in your writing, it always makes me smile 💘

I'm sorry this took so long, I've been lacking motivation to write since I hurt my hands but I got this out! I hope you like it!

You never understood why people care so much about others romantic experiences when they're not even interested in the first place.

It literally makes no sense.

What does it matter that you've never kissed anyone? Or been in a relationship?

A conquest is how you've been seen in the past. Like a goal that people are working towards over something so stupid.

What do they even gain from getting a kiss from you anyways? Another roll of innocence on their belt? Bragging rights?

Whatever.

I mean really, it shouldn't matter at all; and in this particular group of dwarfs you thought it wouldn't matter at all, and for the most part it doesn't. However, while your first kiss may not be a conquest, it certainly is the topic of a lot of teasing.

Specifically from Fili and Kili.

Double specifically from Kili.

It was just a casual conversation like any other when the topic came up, the two brothers discussing how awkward their first kisses were since they had given up their first kisses to the same girl.

"I know, I know. It sounds unbelievable but it's true!" Kili exclaims between laughter, nudging his brother in the side while you join in with giggles of your own. "And do you want to know what happened after we kissed?"

"What?" You ask eagerly, practically on the edge of your seat. This story is just too good.

"She called me Fili! She had us completely mixed up with one another and it then dawned on me that she hadn't said my name the entire night." He looks indignant and tries to feign shock, though the big smile on his face gives him away. "I'm completely certain that she forgot if I was Fili or Kili, and then panicked and guessed at the last moment. It was mortifying."

You gasp dramatically and look over at the blond-haired brother who is watching on with amusement in his eyes, though he isn't laughing as much as you or his brother. "And what about you?"

"Me? Well, she kissed me afterward and didn't bother to tell me that she had been snogging my brother only a few hours-"

"A few hours? " Once more you're left shocked- this is better than any soap opera- and you look at him with wide eyes.

"I know! I had no idea. And when I returned home later and Kili told me what happened, I nearly lost it." He shakes his head after he finishes speaking and crosses his arms over his chest.

You reach up and scratch at your cheek lightly, pressing a bit further, "What did you guys do about it?"

They exchange a glance as smiles creep up onto their faces, and right away you know they did something no so kind.

"Well, the next time she asked me to join her for an outing," Fili begins, a smirk creeping up onto his face, "I invited Kili along."

"Oh, her face when she saw the both of us together. Once we approached her she looked like a deer caught drinking by a hunter, I tell you! And then Fili said-"

"I said, 'Oh, Elora! I hope you don't mind but I brought my brother, Kili, along since I wanted him to meet you.' And then she looked absolutely horrified."

You place your hand on your face and look at him with wide eyes, asking very energetically, "W-Wait so you brought along your brother, who she also kissed, _and _indirectly told her she said the wrong brothers name?"

"That's exactly what I did, and she looked none too happy about it. She started yelling at us for being horrible and tricking her." Fili sighs and shakes his head as if he's disappointed just thinking about it. "She looked positively foolish."

"What an awful way to lose your first kiss- because that certainly does sound like a loss." You look at them sympathetically despite the humor of the memory, knowing that it must've been much less pleasant at the time.

Kili shrugs his shoulders indifferently, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, "Well, we're not bothered by it anymore anyways."

"It's your turn to share." Fili urges as his humorous demeanor becomes much more expectant.

You frown deeply at his call for your story, but, unfortunately for them, you don't have one. "I've never kissed anyone, so I've no embarrassing story to give."

A moment of silence passes by where they just look at you before Kili asks incredulously, "You've never been kissed?"

"No..." You suddenly feel a bit nervous, glancing away shyly. "Not everyone has been, you know. Surely it isn't that surprising to you." You're grumbling more than speaking at this point, hoping more than anything that they'll just drop it since it isn't a big deal.

A smile curls onto Kili's lips and the tease leaves his mouth before he can stop himself, "Certainly there must be some sort of mistake! Our brave, adventurous, Y/N has never kissed anyone?"

In contrast to Kili, a scowl works its way onto your face and you look away pointedly, "What does it matter?"

"Oh, well it doesn't matter much...," he trails off as that same mischievous smile stays on his face, and then he continues, "You're even softer and sweeter than I thought!"

"How does that make me soft or sweet?" You ask incredulously, half-hearted disgust twisting your features.

"It just does." Fili chimes in suddenly, earning a glare from you.

A heavy sigh leaves you and you flop down onto your back, avoiding looking at both of them, "Oh, you too? You're both incorrigible."

All they do is laugh in response.

You got an awful lot of teasing from those two after you let that slip (it wasn't actually a slip up but whatever), but eventually the jokes and jabs died down and became less frequent, though they didn't stop altogether in the slightest.

Some of their jokes ended up being kinda funny too, surprisingly enough, though that doesn't mean you disliked it any less.

And there's also the thing with liking all the attention you've been getting from Kili- even if it is attention derived from being made fun of.

Also, there's the fact that a few of Kili's jabs included things like being willing to teach you a thing or two about kissing... Oh, even thinking about it makes you embarrassed.

You can feel your face heating up upon the thought of his recent behavior, and you chance a quick look around to see if anyone is looking at you and, luckily, find that nobody is paying attention to you.

Thank god.

A moment or so passes and the raging heat of your face cools, and then you dispel all thoughts of this from your mind.

You take a deep breath and lay back into your bedroll and pulling your blanket over you, looking up at the sky with a slight pout on your face.

A chill runs down your spine in unison with a strong gust of wind that breezes by, and, instinctively, you reach up and wrap your arms around yourself. It's a cold night, but you'll be able to manage as long as you bundle up properly.

"Y/N? Are you cold?" A voice pipes up from your left suddenly.

You turn toward the voice and see Kili sitting with his back propped up against the trunk of one of the trees in the clearing, one of his eyebrows raised while he smokes from the dreadful pipe.

"Just a little bit." You mumble, wrapping your blanket around your shoulders and sitting back up so you can look at him full on. "Are you going to sleep soon?"

"Yes..." He trails off and looks like he wants to say something else, and right away you're on guard.

"If you're thinking of more ways to tease me, then I won't speak to you at all tomorrow."

A smirk curls at the corners of his lips and he laughs heartily, shaking his head along while speaking, "I was not planning on it. Have I really tormented you so much that you expect it now?"

Uh, duh.

You nod your head vigorously and glare right at him, "Yes. And you know it, too."

The dark-haired dwarf laughs some more and shrugs his shoulders, placing his pipe down and crossing his arms across his chest. "Fair."

"Is that all?"

He doesn't say anything right away and instead looks at you silently for a bit, seeming to debate something internally before he gestures for you to come over to him.

You, of course, just look at him blankly for a moment, eyes narrowing a fraction with clear distrust, "What?"

"You said that you are cold."

"And?"

"I'm offering up a solution."

Once more you say nothing and just look at him, thus causing him to sigh heavily.

"Come on now, I'm only trying to be nice," he pauses, then adds, "I promise not to tease you."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You'll just have to try."

The sourness does not leave your face while the two of you engage in some sort of stare down, a battle of wills, but when another shudder runs through you, you know that you're just gonna have to concede.

And I mean, it's not like you don't want to be close to him or anything like that, but there's still that little bit of suspicion whispering in your ear...

Oh well.

You sigh heavily and resign your hesitance in favor of crawling over to him, not removing your blanket or being particularly quick, and once you're next to him you settle and pull your blanket tighter around your shoulders.

"Okay, I'm here."

He wraps his arm around your shoulders right away and pulls you into him, laughing lightly at your hesitance since he really does find it to be rather cute. "Come on now, it's only me."

"I know..." You grumble, leaning into him comfortably and wrapping one of your arms around his waist, less skittishly this time around. "You're always bothering me, though, so I never know what to expect."

Fair.

He only smiles and doesn't reply, looking ahead and just getting more comfy himself.

The change in temperature is almost instant, and right away you know that you don't want to be anywhere else.

You slide down further and stretch your legs out in front of you, sighing contently while you look at the flickering and orange fire ahead. The air is still cold of course, but it feels so much better with someone holding you.

Kili unconsciously smiles when you snuggle up further into him, pulling you over so your head can rest against his shoulder which you appreciate greatly.

You're practically laying on him now, but if he's uncomfortable at all then he definitely isn't showing it.

You aren'y quite sure when your eyes began to droop or your body began to completely relax, but very soon were you on the verge of sleep, tipping just over the edge of rest as he held you so comfortingly and remained as still as he possibly could - which you are very grateful for.

At one point you vaguely register movement beside you and, when you begin to stir, a soft whisper telling you that everything's fine and that you should go back to sleep, and not long after that are you completely whisked away into dream land.

Kili had elected to lay down and bring you with him once he got tired, and, instead of sending you off to your own bedroll, he just held you a bit tighter and looked up at the sky for a little bit while he waited for sleep to overcome him as well (that ended up taking a bit longer than he thought it would, for he was entranced in your peaceful expression and the soft breaths fanning out across his chest).

Right before he falls asleep himself he leans down and presses a delicate kiss to your forehead, smiling tiredly when your nose twitches.

And then he too falls into the depths of sleep.

#kili durin #kili x reader #kili fic #kili #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #fluff #request #answer #sorry its so late #reader insert #reader

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bitter-sweet-farmgirl · 3 years

Text

Afthâk Ugshar

Part 5 of ‘A Deep Misunderstanding’. Who know how many more parts are going to follow… Link to Series Masterlist.

Thorin falls for a Dwarrowdame raised by Elves, and tries to make know his feelings, but accidentally offends her, which leads to another and another misunderstanding between the two.

Based off of @immawriteyouthings ‘Falling Stars’

MASTERLIST

OC(s) Used: Estel

Word Count: 1,797

Warning(s): Swear word, Bofur the insinuation king, slightly naughty and suggestive words

Translation(s): Afthâk Ugshar: Another Teacher

Kitinirakbeshêkzi, zannag, naimus and 'azgs: Your hips, bosum, lips and eyes

~~~~~

The next morning found me hovering over a kettle Bombur had placed under my care. I had no idea what in Eru's name was in it, but it smelled--to put it lightly--a bit strange. Like there was metal of some sort in it. That stinging, metallic scent hinted to it.

"What is in this again?" I asked curiously as Bombur passed by, vaguely wondering if I even wanted to know. Dwarves certainly had some very strange tastes I had found. They adored meat, which I found quite repulsive. Who wanted to eat the flesh of some poor deer or fowl?

"Rabbit, some herbs Bilbo found in the woods, and water. Smells delicious, don't you think?" He said nonchalantly, and I gagged, reeling back from the pot in disgust.

"You mean you killed a rabbit and put it in here?" I asked in disbelief, wondering how anyone could stand to shoot such an innocent creature and eat it.

Bombur watched me with a confused expression. "Yeah. Have you never eaten rabbit stew before?" He asked, and I shook my head in disgust.

"No, and I never intend to... Excuse me, Bombur, I think Bilbo is awake and ready to help you." I hurried to get away from the so-called 'rabbit stew', passing by the bleary-eyed Hobbit as I did so. He had proven that he wasn't much of a morning person, but he'd begun to rise earlier to help with breakfast once he'd found out how bad the Dwarves were at making food--Bombur being the exception.

By the Valar, I felt like I was going to throw up...

"Hey, Lass!" The sudden familiar call of Bofur's nickname for me had me stilling in my tracks, looking around to find the source.

I quickly located Bofur sitting with Fili, Kili, Dori and Ori on an outcropping of rocks. Sighing, I walked over to join them.

"You called?" I said wearily, settling myself on a rock and looking at the group with an unimpressed gaze. This sounded like trouble.

"I was just wondering, Kili here has been telling me that you don't know Khuzdul." Bofur said, balancing his pipe in his hand as he gestured towards the oblivious Kili who was laughed about something with his brother. "How is that? Were you raised as an orphan or something?" He asked, and I struggled to keep my expression neutral.

Why was everyone so curious about my upbringing? Couldn't they tell I didn't want to talk about it?

"It's true that I don't know Khuzdul, but my past is a bit of a personal subject." I said, trying to hint that I didn't want to discuss it, but Bofur just raised his eyebrows, nodding.

"Ah, I see. Well, I've also heard that Thorin's teaching you Khuzdul... How is that going?" He asked, and I breathed an internal sigh of relief as the conversation slowly moved away from my past.

"Fairly good, I know quite a bit now. He's a good teacher." I said bashfully, trying to keep the blood from rushing into my cheeks. "I daresay I could hold a passable conversation in it."

Bofur nodded again, blowing a smoke ring after a draw on his pipe. "Hmmm... Has he taught you this phrase yet? 'Sasakhabiya abnâmul'?" A smile pulled at his bearded cheeks as his words caught the attention of everyone else in the group.

Fili and Kili grinned at each other as they leaned closer, obviously interested.

I frowned at the unfamiliar words. Thorin most definitely had not taught me that yet; I didn't even recognize a word. "No, he has not... What does it mean?" I asked, wondering if I even wanted to know the answer. Knowing Thorin's blatant dislike of me, it probably meant something along the lines of 'I don't like you; go far away and die a horrible death'.

Bofur laughed and shook his head. "I didn't think he had yet. Those types of words are normally taught later in life." He said, and I cocked my head curiously.

"What does it mean?" I asked again, genuinely curious as to what it meant.

"You look beautiful." Fili said suddenly, and I glanced over at him with shock written all over my features. Since when did he say things like that to me?

"Excuse me?" I questioned, wondering if I had heard him right. "Are you trying to flirt with me? If so, piss off, I'm not interested. And if you're saying it on behalf of your brother; I doubt he's interested, what with his lady love back in the Blue Mountains." I said, giving the pair an unimpressed stare."

Fili laughed, blushing slightly as he shook his head. Kili elbowed him in the ribs as he laughed along with him. "No, that's what the phrase meant. Sasakhabiya abnâmul--you look beautiful."

He chuckled, and I rolled my eyes.

"You're incorrigible. Why would Thorin ever say that to me? The Dwarrow doesn't even like me for Eru's sake... He can't stand to be around me." I grumbled before realizing my slip of the tongue. Glancing around, I took in everyone's shocked faces.

Eru, I'd really done it now...

"Goodness, Lass, why would you think that?!" Bofur asked, the glowing pipe held in his hand forgotten as he stared at me like I'd suddenly sprouted another eye.

Why did they all act like I'd just spoken some sort of forbidden word or something? Was it really that bad to complain about their leaders in their culture?

I shrugged, relaxing as I realized they hadn't caught my slip of the tongue in the use of Eru's name. "I don't know, that's just the vibe I get off of him. He doesn't like speaking with me, can't find a single good thing to say about me, and never wants to be left alone in my presence--he's always trying to get Dwalin or Balin to stay with him whenever I approach him! It's downright maddening!" I complained, trying to find some sympathy in this group.

I found none. Bofur simply begin to grin slyly. "Oh, I think there are several things he likes about you... Kitinirakbeshêkzi, zannag, naimus and 'azgs to name a few..." He said, causing Dori to emit a scandalized gasp as he hurried to cover Ori's ears. That honestly should have thrown up a red flag about the meaning of the words, but I was too focused on the giggling trio before me.

Fili and Kili had cracked up, leaning on each other as they laughed so hard, I thought their sides would split. Bofur chuckled along with them, making me eye them all suspiciously.

"What did you just say?" I probed, but Bofur just shook his head.

"Those aren't words you should hear from me, Lass... Thorin just might have my beard shaved if he knew." He said evasively, and I frowned, my mood sobering.

"They're really that bad, huh?" I said quietly, making him shake his head vigorously and reach out a hand to pat my shoulder.

"No, you've got it all wrong, Lass." He said, but I shrugged his hand off my shoulder, getting to my feet and looking at them all with a face that I hoped didn't show the hurt I felt inside.

"Then why don't you tell me what they mean?" I asked, voice cold. Bofur lowered his gaze to his feet, shaking his head.

"As I said, they aren't words you should hear from me..." He murmured, and I let out a sigh, turning away from them and hurrying towards the crackling fire where everyone else had gathered to smell the bubbling pot of rabbit stew.

My stomach turned again, and I bit my lip in an attempt to stop my automatic grimace of disgust at the metallic smell of blood.

Living with Elves had sharpened many of my senses; my sense of smell being one. Sometimes it was a good thing, other times, not so much. Especially now.

I reluctantly joined the group by the fire and sat down by Dwalin. He was the most likely to ignore me and give me the peace I wanted right now.

But apparently everyone had it out for me today, as he turned towards me, letting out a deep breath. "I've been curious about you of late, Miss Estel." He rumbled in his deep gruff voice, and I tried not to scream in frustration.

"About what?" I asked hesitantly, and he just shrugged, shifting his position a bit as I stared hard at him. I wasn't going to make this easy for him if he found this so uncomfortable.

"Yer heritage, stuff like that. Where were you brought up?" He asked, and I rolled my eyes skyward.

Eru help me.

"That's none of your business, Master Dwalin, and I suggest you stay out of it." I said harshly, and Dwalin shuffled his feet awkwardly, keeping his gaze anywhere but on my face.

"My apologies, Miss Estel." He said quietly, and I let out a short breath. I sure hoped he meant those words.

Looking around, I caught sight of Thorin standing nearby, talking quietly with Balin as he shot a look over at me, accompanied by a meaningful nod towards Dwalin. That's when everything clicked and I shot to my feet, looking down at Dwalin with an outraged expression.

"Thorin put you up to this, didn't he?" I asked in a low whisper, and he hesitated, rising slowly to his feet and looking at me. "Admit it." I hissed, and he reluctantly nodded.

Fury rose within me, and I clenched my jaw, stalking away from Dwalin towards Thorin. Balin caught sight of me first and began to edge away from Thorin, who looked around curiously to see why his friend and advisor was abandoning him.

Once his blue eyes locked onto my figure storming towards him, he paled and looked towards Balin who just smiled and walked away just as I reached Thorin.

"Miss Estel--" He began, his voice soft, but I cut him off.

"Do you have anything better to do than snoop into my private life? Can you not take the hint and just leave me alone? I don't want to talk about my past, alright?" I ground out, pointing a finger into the soft fur of his coat. "Keep your questions to yourself, Master Thorin." I said warningly, turning away from him only to see the gazes of everyone else in the Company focused onto us.

"Oh Eru...." I huffed, letting out a deep sigh. Directing a piercing glare that was almost guaranteed to burn a hole through even the thickest skull over the crowd, I walked away from Thorin with my head held high. Perhaps I could find Gandalf and have a civilized conversation.

#thorin #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield x oc #thorin oakenshield #a deep misunderstanding #angst #dwarf raised by elves #the hobbit #the company #dwarves #khuzdul #fanfic #fanfiction #naughty #bofur the insinuation king

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hello-nichya-here · 3 years

Text

Nichya, Am I being narrow-minded?

I don’t understand how Azula’s character works. Could you please eplain to me? Can verbal bullying be considered as abuse? I don’t get the people who claim that Azula's by no means abusive. Like they even say Ursa was abusive by neglecting Azula but no way Azula herself.

Throughout the years of her toxic friendship with Mai and Ty Lee, she’s probably done and said horrible things making them feel awful. For example threatening Ty Lee’s life only to make her join her quest, scaring her into a relationship. Not to mention the constant mind manipulation and intimidation, abusing those she commanded. If that’s not power abuse, then what was it?

Also, does she love Zuko or not? One the one hand she does seem to care for him deeply, bringing him home, lying to Ozai that he allegedly killed the avatar (lying to Ozai, her most beloved person in the world!) telling him to stop visiting Iroh because it would make Zuko look traitorously suspicious again, comforting him at Ember island when he felt down, ect.

On the other hand, she didn’t hesitate to almost kill him with her lightning when she tricked him into returning home where she also made him feel miserable about him being a failure to their father. She didn’t hesitate to try to kill him after he betrayed the Fire Nation. I thought she’d at least try to reason with him before deciding that he’s an incorrigible traitorous weakling whom she’d never be forgiven by her father for not killing. She didn’t even look slightly concerned when Zuko was going to die a painful death by getting boiled alive at the Boiling Rock. And, of course, she didn’t care that he was going to die by her lightning at the last Agni Kai even though she was emptionally and mentally exhausted but then again she tried to strike him with lightning at the ship so she knew what she was doing. Though, Zuko was going to redirect her lightning, but I doubt he intende to kill her,

I know I must have overlooked something but her character and her relationship with Zuko are very unerdeveloped. I don’t see how mature audience not only children can let all of that sink in if there was clearly not enough screen time of Azula in the show. She is though by far the most complex character in the series. If we could only get to see some ‘Azula alone’ spin off comic to understand things from her perspective more.

***

The thing about Azula is that, while she deeply cares about Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee, she was raised to believe that what she wants is inherently more important than anything else, and that she has every right to force them into any situation she wants to - which is why she never questions stuff like, say, Ozai hiding safely in a bunker, surrounded by guards, while she is fighting their enemies without her bending. She doesn’t see anything wrong with her father putting her in harms way, even though he could have EASILY just have the Dai Li alone fighting them. She has no idea how normal, healthy relationships are supposed to work - but her friends “betrayal” made at least some small part of her understand she was wrong (as it was prooved by “Ursa” telling her she used fear to control them and ended up alone)

As for why she doesn’t hesitate to attack Zuko whenever he is a position where he can be considered an “enemy” of the Fire Nation (and therefore her enemy), you need to remember that indoctrination is VERY strong in their nation. We see children cheering at a puppet show that has Fire Lord Ozai defeating the “Evil” earth kingdom general. We see Aang correcting blatant lies in school books. Zuko, the fucking prince, didn’t know he was related to Avatar Roku or about how Sozin killed him. Very few people manage to free their minds of such intense propaganda - Zuko himself almost didn’t, and he spent three entire years away from it. Add in Azula’s breakdown and her reactions during the final Agni Kai were nothing shocking.

#submission #azula meta

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Bah Hiddleston | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon) | Chapter 7 | Snowball

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)

Summary: Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?

This chapter: Tom makes his feelings know but does Tamra feel the same? And where do they go from here?

Warnings for story: smut, oral sex, implied smut, vaginal sex, light angst

As Tom pressed Tamra against him, electric shocks traveled from his lips to his toes. Tamra’s other hand moved to the back on Tom’s head, tangling in his ginger locks along the nape of his neck. He tasted of chocolate and mint. They sighed against each other and parted. Tom panted as he pushed his forehead against hers.

“Um…” Tamra panted as she twirled Tom’s hair in her fingers. “That was…”

“Yeah… ah.. so…” Tom stood up straight, searching her face for a smile, a wink, something to show him she returned his feelings.

“Um… so… you kissed me.” Tamra asked, pushing away to face Tom head on. She stood emotionless, her face a mask of all emotion.

“I did.” Tom flushed as he started to pull away, wringing his hands in front of him.

“Why?” she questioned.

“I did say I was a man of action.” Tamra’s face remained unmoved. The smile dropped from Tom’s face, and he felt a wave of guilt and embarrassment at the whole situation. He clearly read the room wrong. “We can just forget that ever—”

Tamra grabbed him and pulled him into another embrace. He returned the kiss and sighed against her and Tamra followed suit. Tom slipped his tongue in and Tamra moaned in his embrace. Their embrace grew more heated as Tom’s hand slid down from Tamra’s neck, past her shoulders, skimming her curves before lighting on her waist.

“So…” Tom panted as they parted. “You kissed me.” He stood confused.

“Yeah. I did.”

“Why, if I may ask?”

Tamra’s lips curled into a small smile. “You said you like a woman who takes charge. So… I took charge of the situation.” Her hands never left his neck.

His eyebrows rose as his mouth fell open. “I find myself lying awake at thinking about the next time I will see you. I can’t sleep. Hence the dark circles. It’s all your fault.”

Tamra giggled. “Are you blaming me for your lack of sleep?”

“Yes. You don’t know the effect you have on me.”

“And you… like you don’t know how ridiculously charming you are? I still hate Christmas but I can’t help but enjoy our time together.” Tamra huffed.

Tom smiled as he raised a hand to cup her cheek. “You think I’m charming?”

“You know you are. And handsome.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Tom smiled, raising now the other hand to cup Tamra’s other cheek.

“Did I say handsome? I meant incorrigible and ridiculous and… and…” Tamra stammered as her eyes darted around the room, as if searching for an escape.

“Darling…” Tom whispered as he kissed her once again, this time tender. His thumbs ran across her cheeks. Her hands raked through his curls.

“So where do we go from here?” she asked.

Tom opened his mouth, but his stomach growling stopped him from speaking.

“First, we need to eat some dinner. We skipped lunch. Again.”

Tamra rolled her eyes until her stomach growled. She pulled her arms around her midsection, willing her stomach to cease its loud yawing. Tom laughed.

“And then…”

“And then…” he gave a quick peck to her lips. “Whatever we want.

Tom led Tamra to the kitchen where he fished out a small collection of takeaway menus.

“So I was right about not cooking.”

“Guilty as charged. Pick a menu.”

Tamra shook her head. “You pick. I trust you.”

“A horrible choice.”

They spent the rest of the evening eating, watching movies on the couch and snuggling under the blankets. Tom yawned as Tamra clicked the movie.

“It’s late.” she commented about the hour. “You must be exhausted.”

She stood and turned to head to the guest room. Tom grabbed her wrist, preventing her exit.

“Stay with me tonight.”

She looked down at him. Her brow furrowed. “I am staying with you. We’re snowed in. Remember?”

Tom stood to meet her eyes. He released her wrists and laced his fingers with her. “No. I mean stay with me tonight. Not two doors down the hall. Not in the guest room. In my bed, next to me. I need you near me.”

Tamra chewed on her lower lip, considering the proposal. Tom dropped his chin and looked at her through his lashes, his eyes begging and pleading her to say yes. She gave his a hand a squeeze.

“Okay.”

He smiled and kissed her temple. “Thank you.”

Tom led her to the master bedroom, and they ended up buried under blankets and sheets. Tom sat up reading a script for a potential project. Tamra continues to read the book from the night before.

“Tom?” she asked in soft tones. He didn’t respond.

She turned to find him fast asleep, script slipping from his hand, his breath deep and even. Tamra went to his side of the bed and took the glasses from his face, placing them on the nightstand. She followed with the script, keeping his place. Finally, she cradled his head to lower the pillows flat. She brushed an errant curl from his forehead and press her lips to Tom’s forehead.

“Goodnight Tom.”

Tom rolled onto his side as she clicked the lamp off. “Goodnight darling.”

Tom awoke the next morning to find himself snuggled against Tamra’s back, arms wrapped around her. Tom hummed and sighed as he enjoyed the weight and warmth against his chest. He felt at peace and for the first time in days, refreshed. His alarm disrupted the blissful moment, and he turned to shut the sound off before it woke Tamra.

With much reluctance, Tom rolled out of bed and dressed for his walk. He fed Bobby and headed out the door after leaving a note in case Tamra woke up before he returned. On his run, his mind raced through everything that transpired over the past several days. He panicked for a moment at what would happen after the holidays ended and Tamra needed to leave but he pushed that troubling thought away for the time being. Tom returned and found Tamra still asleep. He headed to the shower.

“Now that is a sight I could get used to in the morning.” Tamra commented as Tom stepped out from the bathroom, his towel slung low on his waist.

Tom chuckled. “I agree 100%.” He leaned to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “A lovely, beautiful woman in my bed. Smiling up at me. You spoil me.”

Tamra moved so Tom could take a seat next to her.

“What do you want to do? Which museum today?”

Tamra thought about the day ahead. “Why don’t we skip the museums for a day? You pick.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “I know just the thing but first we need you to get dressed and go by your flat to pick up some clothes for you because you can’t wear my shirt outside.”

“But I make this look good.”

Tom kissed her, pulling her down on top of him. “You do.” he pecked her lips once, twice, three times. “But it is not suitable for snow. Would you settle for a borrowed hat, scarf, and gloves?”

“Fine.” Tamra stood. “Let me get dressed.” She left the room.

“You could use the bathroom in here!” He yelled in the general direction of the hallway.

“But it smells like boy!” a disembodied voice yelled back.

Tom took Bobby out to the backyard to run around in the accumulated snow. Bobby bounded through the thick blanket of white with balls of snow gathering on his fur, making him resemble a pom-pom monster.

“What a mess, boy.” Tom scolded as he brushed as much snow off of Bobby’s coat.

Bobby barked as if in agreement. Tom smiled as he petted Bobby’s back. “What do you think about Tamra? Is she a keeper?”

Bobby barked again and jumped into Tom’s chest, rocking him back and almost off his feet. “Me too, boy. Me too.”

Tom headed into the house and found Tamra standing in the living room, spying out a nearby window.

“A little male bonding time?” she chuckled as Bobby bounded in ahead of Tom, jumping at Tamra’s legs.

“Something like that. He is quite taken with you.”

Tamra knelt down to scratch behind Bobby’s ears. “He is a sweetheart.” Tom’s smile reached his eyes as he looked down at the two of them. “Much like his owner.”

“A high compliment coming from you.” Tom grabbed her jacket. “Come on, let’s go.”

Tamra gave Bobby a final scratch and took off for the door. Bobby gave a whine as Tom and Tamra gave a wave on their way out.

They stopped by Tamra’s flat first, so she could change into some fresh clothes and put on the one pair of boots she brought with her. Tom packed her suitcase into the back of the car.

They stopped by for more pastry and coffee and then walked over to the nearby park.

“So what about your family?” Tom asked as they sipped coffee and navigated the icy path.

“What about them?”

“Well, you’re here and they’re not. At Christmas. Surely you are not an entire family of Scrooges.”

Tamra snorted. “No. You and my mother could compete for the Christmas spirit stick. Fully decked out trees, the tree up the day after Halloween. The whole works.” Her nose crinkled in an expression Tom now recognized as a sign of distaste.

“I can’t wait to meet her.” Tom bumped into her shoulder.

“I don’t think I could handle two Buddies in my life. You are bad enough on your own.”

Tom took a big sip of his coffee before taking her hand and leading her around a patch of black ice. “You don’t know what you are missing out on.”

“I’ll take my chances. What about your family? Are they bundles of boundless energy just like you?” She turned to see Tom throw his head back in laughter.

“Hardly. They are normal bundles of energy. And my sisters constantly remind me I am nothing special.”

He gave her hand a squeeze as they finished up their coffee. Tom grabbed Tamra empty cup and walked to a nearby trash can.

“Sounds like my kind of girls.”

“You are never meeting them. I would never survive the onslaught.” Tom commented over his shoulder.

He noticed Tamra’s back turned to watch a group of kids have a snowball fight. His eyes twinkled as his gaze darted to the fresh snow in front of him.

Splat!

“EEEK!” Tamra squealed as a snowball hit her square in the back. She whipped around to find Tom bent over in a fit of laughter.

He didn’t see the snowball until it landed on his shoulder, exploding into shards of white.

“Hey!” Tom’s eyes narrowed as he shot off towards Tamra. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Only if you catch me!” Tamra ran as Tom barreled towards her.

They both made hasty snowballs as they ran towards the center of the park. Their throws going wide as they continue chase, Tamra lobbing snowballs over her shoulder.

Tom’s running background comes into play and his long stride helped as he gained on Tamra.

“Gotcha!” he triumphed when he made it within arm’s reach of Tamra.

His fingers grazed her sleeve, and he gained purchase on Tamra’s wrist. He whipped his arm to snap Tamra back towards him. She pivoted to face him but her momentum sent her straight into Tom’s chest.

“Aah!” Tamra clambered as she and Tom tumbled into a deep bank of snow.

“Oof.” Tom’s breath left him as Tamra landed on top of him. His hands shot out to steady her. “Got you.”

Tamra smiled down at him and Tom brushed her now snow soaked hair out of her face to gaze into her hazel eyes.

“Truce?” he asked not letting up on his grip on her.

She leaned down and kissed him. He used his grip to pull her closer, not caring if anyone saw or that his coat soaked with snow. They parted. “Truce.”

Tamra pushed herself to standing and offered her hand to Tom. He took it and stood. Tamra wrapped her arms around Tom.

“Tom?”

“Yes, darling.” Tom wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Have I ever told you…” she paused to look down at her boots. “… that I lie?”

Tom’s eyes widened as Tamra’s face grew into an evil smile and she shoved a hidden handful of snow down his shirt.

“OOoo!!” Tom jumped at the cold wet running down his back. His blue eyes flashed at Tamra and she took off running. “Never trick the trickster!”

“Loki can’t save you now!”

The two of them continued taunting and throwing snowballs until both of them were soaked to the bone and out of breath. They returned to the car, blasting the heat on the way back to Tom’s place.

“Brrr.” Tom exclaimed as he peeled his jacket off and then his sweater and shirt. “You fight dirty.”

Tamra stared as Tom stood shirtless and her pulse raced. “So do you.”

Tom took a step forward. Tamra shivered at the proximity of him. “You’re shivering.” He raised his hands to rub up and down her arms.

“Not helping.”

A whisper of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Does this help?” He tugged her into his chest.

His warmth bled through Tamra’s thin sweater. Her heart raced, and she felt Tom’s race and he pulled her into a passionate kiss. He huffed as he nipped at her lips. Tamra moaned against him. Their chests heaved as Tom pulled away, his bated breath fanning across her cheek.

“Better?” Tom whispered.

“A little.” Tamra whispered back. She stared into Tom’s eyes, his pupils blown and his lips hungry.

“How about a hot shower?” his intention clear by his tone.

She nodded. “Sounds… nice.”

Tom smiled as he kissed her again, more heated and more urgent. He led her towards the master bedroom, unaware of the notifications going off on his phone in his discarded jacket.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston smut #bah hiddleston

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karasgay · 3 years

Text

im just posting my fic under the cut because the link to ao3 post looks v ugly to me w the big header so ignore this

the incorrigible study of strawberries on a summer’s afternoon

for lena, summers bring exhausting fêtes, sun induced headaches, and trips down to the lake. why anyone would prefer such a glaring season, lena could not understand. the only saving grace comes in the form of a small red fruit held in the palm of one kara danvers.

Lena has always held a strong distaste for summer: the dry air, the lack of rain, her mother’s elaborate brunches. The most detested feature, though, is the sun. Lena thought it had no business shining down so harshly, burning her delicate skin and blinding her all afternoon. For all the pain it casts, Lena must thank the weather for the harvest of her favourite fruit. The abrasive sun is less of a distraction today while she sits on Kara’s worn jacket in the grass underneath her parasol with a healthy punnet of strawberries between them. Today, the sun permits Lena to concentrate on her favourite part of summer. With suspenders hanging down her hips and white shirt reflecting the sun, despite its wrinkles, Kara’s fingers play with the stem of an egregiously plump strawberry. Perfect teeth piercing the crown; its juices dripping down a strong chin quickly wiped away by a firm arm, slightly staining the tan skin. Lena could go on and on about strawberries, truth be told.

Despite her attention better devoted elsewhere, her eyes trace the solid lines and soft skin away from the previous subject of study to the full basket below. Small and large strawberries, sweetly red with no hint of white or green skin; anything less than perfect would not be tolerated in such a situation. How Lena could get lost in her appreciation- how perfectly they balance exhilarating flavors: sour to spark swift blood flow and sweet to soothe the mouth, to liberate the tongue, to elicit a smile. Lena knows the consumption alone conjures the addicting emotions and rapid beatings in her chest. And if Lena were to divert her attention farther south, she would notice the matching hand to the one that so carelessly played with the beloved strawberry stem, she would notice the long fingers and spread palm, most of all she would notice the disturbing lack of distance she would need to cross to intertwine said fingers with her own. But Lena was nothing if not attentive in her observations. If she completely missed Kara’s conversation, she would have no one to blame but the strawberries.

“- get me wrong, Lena, you know I love seeing you in your nice dresses with your hair done up, and all the wonderful food”, Kara leans further onto her hand, her other twiddling the stem between her fingers, “I just don’t know how everyone would take my being there.” She squints against the gleam of the lake, leaving only half her face, stuck between a grimace and a wry grin, for Lena to observe.

“You’re being silly, Kara, no-one will bat an eye over a server girl’s face they saw three parties ago."

(how anyone could forget Kara’s pronounced cheekbones, the slope of her nose, the golden hair, the not-so elegant crease between eyebrows when she spilled tea on Morgan Edge, Lena could never understand. especially Kara's eyes, the piercing blue that Lena’s almost certain has the power to unearth every secret she holds dear. their pale color is a direct contrast to the deep red strawberries, a direct accomplice to the heat they kindle in Lena’s chest. unlike the strawberries, Lena finds she cannot linger on them for long.)

“No-one will care as long as you look the part,” she continues.

Kara hums, eyes shifting across the lake.

Lena’s not sure why Kara’s so enamored with the, frankly unimpressive, basin of water when there were more captivating subjects to study. (she does not feel entitled to such judgement while she compares the shade of blue to Kara’s eyes as the minutes tick by.) She might imagine the freezing lake could provide some relief to the sweltering weather, but it would ultimately disturb her concentration on her favourite summertime activity. So enamored with the concerns of muddy lake temperatures, Lena nearly fails to refrain from a jolt when she notices Kara gazing at her over her shoulder. She knows the dangerous game those eyes faithfully tempt her with, Lena swallows against the tartness in her mouth and reaches into the basket for a strawberry.

Kara seems oblivious to her rising distress, “Why’s it so important that I attend?” She ducks her head chasing Lena’s eye, “Why can’t we just take a trip to the lake again, or to the orchard? Maybe some apples have ripened already.”

Lena wrinkles her nose, never a fan of such crispy fruit like apples. She sinks into the delicate strawberry, “And what, let you spoil yourself on sweets?”

Kara clutches the strawberry stem over her heart wincing in faux pain, “Never knew you held the power to revoke such a pleasure.”

Lena rolls her eyes, still steadily avoiding Kara’s, “Or maybe because you have always wanted to attend as a guest? And because you know how awfully boring my mother’s company is.”

Kara turns her body to fully face Lena, the sun catching on her blonde hair, “And you’re sure your mother won’t recognize me?”

“And if she does,” Lena raises an eyebrow. “You're no longer a servant”, she nods at Kara’s pencil and notepad laying on her thigh.

There is something conflicting in Kara’s eyes, somewhere so deep that it questions Lena’s sound hypothesis. She blinks it away before Lena can examine its meaning.

“I just think it’ll be awkward. That’s all.”

Maybe it is the summer heat, or the rich fruit, or simply the topic of the upcoming brunch, but Lena cannot muster the willpower to prod. Like with most of her decisions when near Kara, she falls back on what she is comfortable with.

“It will be if you come dressed like that. You might want to look nice.”

After a beat Kara follows her lead, winking, “You know I always look handsome.”

Lena cannot help the disappointment that dampens the thump in her chest.

“Not with strawberry juices covering your wrinkled shirt, darling,” She does not need to look at Kara to know she was peering down, dripping more juice onto the affronted shirt. Kara freezes and bends her head to lick at the trail running down her arm. A dart of pink from the swipe of her tongue reminds Lena of what started all this in the first place.

The forsaken heat flares again and Lena flits her eyes down at the offending strawberries, “Just promise not to be a slob for once.”

(sometimes she wishes Kara really were a slob, it would be the perfect reason to excuse her misplaced fascination. what else could educe such horrible feelings inside her? lena has never been around someone with so little manners, such carelessness in the face of etiquette and tradition; let alone a woman suspiciously similar to herself, but she buries that damning observation deeper than any other.)

The strawberries reflect the sun’s rays directly into her eyes taunting her, daring her to act or to shrink into herself.

(she almost swears she feels Kara’s eyes on her, the way they study her guarded eyes and the blush on her face. lena knows better, though. lena is nothing if not thorough in her research, a distasteful summer’s day will not deter her from gathering further data.)

Lena succumbs to her curiosity and lays her eyes on the most confusing woman she has ever met. The sun shining a halo onto her perfect head, the depths of blue eyes complementing the lake and the clear sky, the stained red lips from the goddamned strawberries. Kara, for her part, cannot help the way nature works in her favour. Lena knows when she meets those eyes she is cursed for the rest of her days, those deep blue eyes gazing at her with an emotion Lena dreads to see mirrored in her own.

“As long as you promise to help sully me after.”

God, Lena really hates summer.

#my fic

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wolfpawn · 4 years

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 115

Chapter Summary - Tom is at the Thor Ragnarok Premiere and Danielle is working, but they still get in a few minutes of talking.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

‘Come on.’ Danielle walked into the trailer she was using for the shoot, Mac joining her. When he looked around the kitchenette, she gave a knowing look. ‘We will be back home soon, don’t worry.’ Mac groaned. ‘And soon, we will be getting your little buddy.’ His ears perked up. ‘You two are going to have our heads wrecked, I can tell already. You will have to be nice, you need to teach him how to behave, like a big brother.’ Mac snorted. ‘Good boy.’

‘Hey, how was the premiere?’ Danielle smiled as she answered the phone.

‘Good, we are having a good time.’

‘Is James liking it?’ She asked with a smile, since Tom had brought his father to LA with him for the Ragnarok premiere.

‘.....Yes.’

‘Oh dear, what was the hesitation about?’ Danielle asked curiously.

‘Well, I cannot say too much, after all, the movie is not on general release yet.’

‘The blanket silence is officially over through, you cannot give plot, but minor details should be okay.’ Danielle reminded him.

‘That is true, actually.’ Tom conceded. ‘Well, Dad is less than please with one of my lines in the movie.’

‘Oh really? It can’t be that bad, it’s not 18 rated.’

‘I may, in the movie, say the word anus.’

There was a moment of silence. ‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘I say the word anus.’ There was more silence. ‘Elle, are you trying not to laugh?’ A moment later, there was the sound of someone blowing raspberries before fits of laughter. ‘Yeah.’

‘Sorry,’ It was clear from her voice she was not particularly so. ‘I bet he loved that. Why does Loki talk about an anus?’

‘He was not too happy with me asking someone for safe passage through the anus.’

‘Well, I mean, that is all anyone would surely want...when going through the anus.’ She forced out as she tried to prevent herself from giggling. ‘He is from a working-class family in Scotland, they curse as part of a sentence.’

‘I know but somehow talking about anuses, anus...what is the plural of anus?’

‘I don’t know “Double First” you’d have to tell me.’ Danielle laughed.

Tom laughed with her. ‘How are you two doing?’

‘We are good. Mac and I had a walk there not too long ago, we are on set now, organising a few things.’

‘How is it having him with you?’

‘Fine, great actually, I am hoping to have him trained so our other little guy will be able to follow his Big Brother’s lead.’

‘Any idea on what to call the “little guy”?’

‘Not really, I am so bad at naming animals, honestly, this is something I worry about if I ever have kids, what will I call them.’

‘Well, we will not concern ourselves with such things right now.’ Tom stated. ‘As for our new arrival, we can talk more when I get back.’

‘What are the plans for getting back, how many are you doing?’

‘Only a few things over here.’

‘No London premiere?’

‘Nope.’

‘Why not?’

‘I am busy.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yes, we are getting the puppy this week and you and Mac will be coming back soon after. We are busy.’

‘Tom?’

‘I want my life back, my private life, but I need to warn you, Chris is adamant he is going to meet you when they stop over in London.’

‘I knew that would happen sooner or later, I am sort of nervous to meet him.’

‘Why?’ Tom frowned, hearing her genuine concern.

‘Because, like Ben, he is one of your closest friends, I want your close friends to like me.’

‘He will adore you.’ Tom swore. ‘They all know what you mean to me.’

‘I promise to be good.’ She joked.

‘Be you, I told everyone what you were like, even Dad was singing your praises.’

‘Oh, Jesus.’

‘Nothing too much, just that you were a better fit and it was about time.’

‘Sweet God, does he ever stop?’

‘I was told to tell you, and that that is what you get for not ceasing the whole “Dr Hiddleston” thing.’

‘Well now, that is is fighting talk.’ Danielle scoffed.

‘Oh dear.’ Tom laughed. ‘I am keeping out of this.’

‘Probably best.’ Danielle recommended.

‘I would have thought you would be getting indignant that I was not taking your side?’

‘What are you supposed to say against that, exactly. “Dad, how dare you say lovely things about my incredible girlfriend”?’

Tom laughed. ‘You are incredible.’

‘Damn right.’

‘I miss you.’

‘We miss you too.’

‘Why not come back a few days earlier, you are finished before then?’

‘Because you need to get the puppy his second set of vaccinations before he and Mac interact, otherwise Mac, who is vaccinated, can carry the diseases and pass them to puppy who is not immune and we end up forking out a fortune to a vet and could lose our little boy or at best, have him suffer horribly because of being irresponsible. Imagine him, weak and sick, hooked up to a drip, no, it is not worth it. When we said yes to this, we said yes to forced separation for a few days.’

‘That is fair enough, and it would not be right to put Mac in kennels for it.’

‘Well, that is a no on two fronts, one, it is just not fair and two, kennel cough vaccines, which you are getting for him, I left that note there for you, take longer to work, so again, if Mac came back with that, he again would suffer. Kennels mean added risks for a young puppy.’

‘If I stay in mum’s the night after getting him, can he come in contact with Poppy?’

‘Who is Poppy?’

‘Mum decided to name his sister Poppy.’

‘Yes, because they have been exposed to the same things together, they are fine.’

‘How do you remember all this?’

‘I worked reception for my dad a lot, I told you that already. Plus, you don’t really forget when he lost the rag with idiots causing their pups to suffer because they blatantly ignored his advice.’

‘I can well imagine.’

‘Yeah, so...I just want what’s best for our little boy.’

‘It’s weird.’

‘What is?’

‘Us talking like this, doing something so domestic and official, a living creature.’

‘Are you…. Do you not...?’ There was sadness and uncertainty in her tone.

‘No, Jesus, I want this, so much, I just…..I did not see this happening, not after last year, in fact, not in a few years leading up to this. I did not plan on finding you, us planning a life, us getting a pet and moving in and changing everything so drastically and I sometimes feel as though I got a huge whack to the head and I am going to wake up alone and I don’t want that. I love this, so much.’

‘You big romantic,’ Danielle smiled at the other end of the phone. ‘I love you, and I am incredibly glad that whatever happened to cause us to go into this occurred. I honestly did not see me with someone, I always felt too…..odd to be in a relationship, too focused on other things to do so and I am so glad you proved me wrong.’

Tom was about to say more when he realised that there was someone standing next to him, seeing it was his father and Luke, he smiled and nodded. ‘Thank you. Elle, I do not mean to cut off this very important conversation…’

‘Say hi to Luke and your dad for me.’

‘Do you have some sort of magic vision?’

‘I have Luke Radar.’ She laughed.

‘What?’ Tom looked at the phone before looking to Luke, who had heard what Danielle had said and looked somewhat perturbed.

‘Relax, your tone alters in his presence, so I can tell when he is nearby.’ She laughed.

‘I was getting worried for a second.’ Tom admitted.

‘I have people watching you, Hiddles.’ Danielle jested. ‘Though, I would imagine it is not hard to get a thousand pictures of you from eighty different angles right now because of the premiere.’

‘Only eighty?’

‘Well I mean, I am sure that there are people behind you on the carpet taking photos that are not supposed to be there too. Enjoy your evening and I will talk to you soon.’

‘Bye.’ Tom hung up the phone. ‘What is next?’

‘Post-premiere party.’ Luke informed him. ‘I see Danielle is up early?’

‘She has work today, so Mac is walked and they are on set. She sends her regards.’

‘Very good.’ Luke gave a small yet genuine smile. ‘She has you well figured out.’

‘She’s observant, you have to give her that.’ James acknowledged.

‘Yes.’ Tom smiled. ‘She says she’ll get you back for the “Dr Hiddleston” thing too, just a warning.’ His father chuckled. ‘You are incorrigible.’

‘I would have thought both of your parents having a bit of sport with her would be a good thing.’ James challenged.

‘It is, but I get worried.’

‘She is a nice girl, too nice for some fella like you.’

‘Goodness, thank you, Dad.’ Tom growled, he noted Luke looking down as he attempted to not be found to be laughing. ‘You are some friend.’

‘I am not going to apologise.’ Luke grinned. ‘Though it is true, you are very lucky both your parents adore Danielle so much, so many are not so lucky. Need I remind you of my family.’

Tom had to agree, Luke’s brother’s partner was met with open hostility by his parents until it became too much and the pair went their separate ways, much to their mutual heartache. ‘Yes.’

‘So, other than “Luke Radar” what is new with Danielle?’

‘Working hard and giving me my orders.’

‘For what?’

‘The puppy.’

Luke paused, ‘What puppy is this then?’

‘Danielle and I are getting a puppy.’

‘What about the other dog, the one you brought to my office?’

‘What about him, we will have two now.’

‘How are you going to juggle two dogs?’

‘Well, we juggle one as it is, adding a second is not overly hard, is it?’

‘An older one, no, but this is a puppy.’

‘They are not puppies for long, and with how Danielle trained Mac, we will have this little guy trained in no time too.’ Tom grinned.

‘You are getting very domestic.’ Luke noted.

‘Well, I am in my mid-thirties, surely that is a good thing.’

‘Because of course, you were so wild before.’ Luke rolled his eyes. ‘I really am unsure why I am even saying anything. Danielle is perfect as a partner for a client; not interested in publicity, works hard, intelligent and independent.’

‘Then why are you being like this?’ Tom asked.

‘Because as a friend, I am worried you love her and with time you could have a broken heart, and I don’t think you can brush this away like you did before, because I truly think you do love her wholeheartedly.’

‘Look, we had a rocky period, but we are doing really well and we are really happy. It won’t always be perfect, but we can work through it.’

‘This is the most mature I have ever seen you.’ Luke noted.

‘About time, right?’

‘You said it, not me.’ Luke laughed back. ‘Come on, we better get to this party.

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 115 #tom hiddleston #Tom hiddleston fic #wolfpawn

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sherlollysecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Memorable Moments (Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries; Jack x Phryne)

And here is the mod gift for @the-consulting-strange-vidder! A modern AU for Phrack with an unplanned pregnancy. I hope you enjoy.

Memorable Moments - A few moments in Phryne's journey to motherhood.

Read @ AO3

She had known it could happen, one day. Birth control wasn’t the most reliable thing in the world, even with the advancements in medicine over the years, and then there was always human error. But she had always been so careful, and even though she was married now, they hadn’t talked about children.

And here she was, pregnant. At least according to the little white wand she held in her hand.

She stared at it for a few more moments. Jack had to suspect...did he? Well, he was astute, and he paid particular attention to her still, mostly because they were still in the heady days of the honeymoon feelings, but still. Had he thought she might be pregnant?

The door opened and she didn’t bother to hide the wand. If he was going to know, he might as well know now. Better to let him know than to try and surprise him; Jack was loathe to most surprises.

“You took a test?” he asked, and she nodded, handing it to him. He stood there for a moment, staring at it, until a smile spread on his face.

“You want the baby?” she asked, turning to face him fully.

“I do,” he said. “Do you?”

“I...don't know,” she said. “I mean, I never thought of being a mother, not after Janie died. It never even crossed my mind that I could have a child of my own someday.” She sat on the toilet and looked up at him. “What if I’m a horrible parent?”

“You’ve been a good foster mother to Jane,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but she wasn’t a baby. She was grown with her wits about her.”

“Then you, Phryne Robinson,” Jack said, kneeling in front of her, “will just have to mold our child to be as bright and whip-smart as Jane.”

She looked at him and finally smiled. “As long as you’re there to help, Jack Robinson.”

“Always.”

---

“I’m disgustingly fat,” Phryne said five months later. “But I suppose it’s worth it to get more of Dot’s cottage pie.”

Jack grinned at her, placing his hand on her belly. “It might take some time, but I think you’ll be back to your stunning self in no time.”

“So does that mean I’m not stunning now?” Phryne asked, raising an eyebrow. She was teasing him, she was, but she was curious.

“No, you’re ravishing now. And I feel I haven’t ravished you enough lately.” He looked at her raised eyebrow and then took the plate of cottage pie from her, setting it on the coffee table. “I think we should remedy that as soon as possible.”

“Oh, you’re incorrigible.”

“And that’s all your doing, my dear,” he said before kissing her. She replied with an enthusiastic kiss back, not even caring for the second portion of food.

---

“Jack!”

He bolted upright in bed as Phryne managed to get her very pregnant and now very wet body off the bed. “Is it time?”

“I think it is,” she said. “My water has broken.”

“Plenty of time to get to the hospital, and you know Mac said she’d be there to deliver her,” Jack said getting out of bed and going to her side. The bags were already in the car and had been for weeks now. All she wanted was to change into a fresh nightie but then she felt another contraction.

“I think you’re wrong about time to get to the hospital,” she said. “There may just be enough time to call Mac.”

“Right,” he said, letting her get back to bed to lay down. “Right. Call Mac, have her come here.”

“Your mobile is on your side of the bed,” Phryne said with a smile as she watched him search for his phone before settling in, ignoring the wet spot. Not how she’d wanted it all to go, but it could have been much worse.

---

An hour later, Mac handed a wrapped bundle to her to hold. Mackenzie Jane Robinson had made her way into the world quickly and loudly, just the way her mum had used to on her adventures with her father. Mac had said there was nothing wrong with her, but it might be best to go to the hospital for tests just in case.

Phryne hadn’t really considered herself to be a mum until this exact moment, holding her daughter in her arms. Mackenzie took after her and Jack in equal measure, and it was obvious that once she was a bit more cleaned up she’d be a beautiful girl. But she had calmed in Phryne’s arms, and that gave her hope maybe she’d have a handle on this parenting thing after all.

---

It was some time later when Phryne woke up to soft singing in the hospital room. Not that there had been anything to warrant a hospital stay, but Mac had insisted just to give mother and daughter the once over again in the morning to make sure everything was alright. In the dimly lit room, she saw Jack moving around slowly, singing to Mackenzie.

“You know my heart is true, and you say you for me care,” he sang softly, bringing a smile to her face. “Let’s Misbehave” had a special place in her heart when it came to her husband. The duet between them at her piano had been one of the moments where she had realized she was falling in love with Jack. “Somebody's sure to tell, but what the heck do we care?”

“They say that bears have love affairs, and even camels,” she sang along with him just as softly, causing him to turn and bring the baby closer to her. “We're men and mammals--let's misbehave!!!”

“I was trying to let you rest,” he said, pausing to kiss her forehead.

“And miss the show?” she asked, mock outraged. “Never.” He sat down on the bed next to her and set Mackenzie between them. “I do love you, Jack. I always will.”

“Always?” he asked.

“Always.”

#miss fisher's murder mysteries #phrack #jack x phryne #fanfic #Mod Gift #the-consulting-strange-vidder #sherlolly secret santa 2019

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gyromitra-esculenta · 4 years

Text

The penultimate chapter for Something Ends, Something Begins - still ‘Bad Witcher AU’. The song sung in the beginning is Lament of Orpheus by Darren Korb.

Warnings: none (unless you count friendly ribbing and calling names, weasels (one particular weasel)).

Gabriel wakes up alone and with the aftertaste of the chaos on his tongue. From the outside, a melody plucked on lute's strings floats. Absentmindedly, he picks straw from his hair and rebinds it in a low-hanging ponytail. Custom calls for it to be shorn with the mourning ended but he is hesitant, not willing to make his mind up yet – what is the point of keeping the customs he does not know the true weight of?

He loosens the buckles and clasps of the armor, the particular feeling of having slept in it fading – the drops of dried blood on it reassuring. Soon, the brassards join the chest piece on the blankets, and Gabriel turns his attention to the bags showing obvious signs of having been tampered with, obviously so. A fresh shirt, although wrinkled, hangs above them, thrown haphazardly over the wooden wall of the box. He runs his fingers against the dyed cloth, the weave tight and simple, the stitching reinforced with strips of cured leather.

Outside, a distinct voice meandering between harmony and dissonance carries a maudlin melody.

"Hear, o gods, my desperate plea, to see my love beside me."

He changes, listening to the song and wondering over its rhyme, or maybe he's trying to look too deep into it, and the words of warning to not mistake the stars for their reflection on the surface of the water come to mind.

"Sunk below the mortal sea her anchor weighs upon me."

Still, it's one of those songs performed when drunks had either slipped under the tables or turned contemplative – and when the brawls and the boasts transformed into the philosophies discussed over the cups of mead and dirty tables.

"Fasten her tether unto me that she may rise to sail free."

Gabriel steps out into the open. The sun pleasantly warms his skin, the smell of meat roasted with juniper and rowanberry wine wafts on the air.

"Don't look back," Sombra holds the melody on her tongue, the words mingling fluidly together into one flowing utterance. She puts her palm across the strings of the lute held in her lap, a fleeting smile on her lips. By her side, with his legs crossed, sits Jack, looking up with an expression equal parts fond, apologetic, and the kind a mischievous kid caught stealing apples might wear.

"I was looking for clean clothes for you, and you had her crystal at the bottom of one bag, so I thought..."

"...you'd call me in the middle of the night?" Sombra snorts.

"It was an hour before noon, witch."

"The middle of the night, as I said, you incorrigible forest pest."

"Oh, excuse me, your witchness, I forgot about your never-ending moral hangover."

"Rich, coming from an ungulate," Sombra tries to sound offended but her face betrays her with how red-rimmed her eyes still are, and her hair curl around her cheek naturally, the coiffure forwent. The same with her garments, the frilly shirt with several laces undone and breeches more akin to something gathered at a moment's notice in a frantic hurry. Gabriel smiles, coming closer, beckoned with Jack's outstretched hand.

"It's not me with a weasel betwixt my tits."

"He likes it there because there is something he can lie betwixt, warm and soft, and voluminous."

"I'm still growing so that's uncalled for," Jack gives her a look full of almost genuine hurt as he pulls Gabriel down to the ground to rest between his now uncrossed legs.

Gabriel lets himself be guided and falls with his back against Jack's chest, different yet so familiar – arms circling his waist and the chin wedged over his shoulder as Jack laughs with a huff. "Oof, you're heavy now, cub."

"At least, we're past the puberty," Sombra smiles indulgently.

"Don't get me started, witch, the pimples were the least of my worries, the wenches are like bloodhounds after a wounded stag," Jack jests with a note of challenge in his tone. Sombra brushes her fingers against the strings, wresting a whimsical accord out of the lute.

"Forgive me for having no sympathy, ungulate. Now," she cocks her head, mischief in her gaze, "what are your plans?"

"I was thinking, I've never been to Skellige, little cub."

"Skellige?" Gabriel questions, shifting somewhat. "Why Skellige?"

"Oh," Jack moves one hand to his hair and picks at the stray blade of straw Gabriel must have missed earlier, "lots of druids to piss off, and we might still get there for the sirens’ nesting period, I hear they're testy and irritable then, more than usual."

"I'll give you two months and meet you at Bremervoord. I'm booking the passage because I absolutely do not trust you both not to choose a hole-ridden tub that will sink if the wave rides higher than a hem of priestess' skirt," Sombra clicks her tongue at the end.

"Three months."

She stares at Gabriel, at first incredulous, then her expression morphs into a sly look unbefitting her lousy appearance.

"Yes, yes, a vast quantity of time to make up for, indeed, I do feel a ballad calling to me."

"No," Gabriel sighs, closing his eyes. “No ballads..."

"Yes, absolutely no ballads, I am still very much traumatized by your appalling rhymester vagaries," Jack pitches in his two crowns and Sombra is opening her mouth to object already.

"We have to drop by the stronghold to pick something up."

"We do?" Jack sounds surprised and Gabriel feels his chin shifting on his shoulder – imagining the inquisitive tilt of the head he needs not to see to know well.

"Your swords."

"You kept them."

"Of course I did. They were-are good swords," he catches himself too late. Only now, Gabriel notices how profound the shift from 'was' to 'is' is - it's one thing to believe this reality, and another to accommodate it and let it redefine the pain and the loneliness, and finally the acceptance, in the years before – and some surprise resentment lingers.

He's reminded of how everything – and nothing at all – had changed after he had acquiesced to Jack's attentions for the first time.

"I need a leak." Sombra pulls herself up, leaving the lute on the ground. "Don't wait for me," she adds before briskly moving to the fence and vaulting over it. Strangely, no retort is coming from Jack, and Gabriel notices the tears when a brush of the lips on his cheek smears the moisture. How kind of her to leave.

"I'm sorry, cub. I am," Jack whispers, "truly, terribly, horribly sorry, for all. For everything. I could feel you, know that you are out there, but the knowledge of seeing you was beyond my grasp," he muses, his palm rising to Gabriel's other cheek. "The flower weaves its protections, even from me, so I could only wait for you to come to me until I could go to you myself."

"Your farewells."

"Today, the same as Nielub's hair-cutting, but it doesn't mean I have to leave in the evening," Jack sighs, fingers playing with Gabriel's hair again, twirling the loose strands with a doting tempo. "Tomorrow's not too late, and neither too early."

It strikes him that maybe Jack does not want to leave having known family life now, something he would have not experienced before. Something of the thought must reflect in him because Jack chuckles and nuzzles his cheek with his nose before speaking again.

"It's my time to leave, with you, cub. You're all I need, and want," he sighs. "It won't be the easiest, I did get used to this kind of existence, but... I didn't know better, it was wrong of me to take them from you."

"You're keeping them safe for me."

"Always will."

The irony of 'I didn't know better' does not elude Gabriel; having his own words turned against him in a strange twist brings comfort rather than uneasiness – two admissions of guilt neither of them faults the other for.

"It's enough, knowing they are with you."

He wants to add his own apology but the unexpected screech has him looking at the source: Sombra frantically trying to wriggle her hand into her shirt from the top.

"Watch the claws, you furry Nilfgaardian bastard! Out! Out!"

"I think that's our cue, hm, cub?"

"Did you...?"

"I'd never. He just got bored," Jack chuckles as Sombra turns twice on the spot unsuccessfully attempting to halt with her hands the bump moving under the cloth, the weasel each time squeezing under or between her palms.

"Your whore mother of..."

"Murder mother!" Jack quips, slipping away from behind Gabriel. "Just stand still."

"The demon has the claws in my belly," Sombra hisses, arms outstretched and held away from her sides. "Get it out. Now. Or there will be a fried weasel appetizer."

"You wouldn't," Jack puts a palm against his chest with a horrified gasp, stopping just before her and leaning down. "Lord Murders-A-Lot does not deserve such a barbaric end!"

"Or a ballad."

"Now, this is a fate worse than death."

He grabs Sombra's shirt and pulls the bottom out of her britches, catching the falling weasel with his other hand. Lord Murders-A-Lot scurries up his arm with a chirp and briefly nibbles on his ear.

"I'm scratched all over. Devil, not a weasel."

"All weasels are devils."

As Jack pets the Lord, Gabriel feels himself slipping and falling back into the rhythm of it, the equilibrium snapping into place like the last piece of an astrolabe tracking the movement of the spheres.

"Just don't get him started."

"You're just jealous of my wee murder ribbon."

"I don't get his obsession with weasels," Sombra mutters, stuffing her shirt back where it belongs before she leans down for her lute.

"Neither do I?" Gabriel chuckles looking to Jack who smiles softly - his gaze warm and content, and something more elusive swirling behind it.

"C'mon," he beckons with his head, offering his hand to Gabriel, "it's about to start, would be rude to keep everyone waiting, wouldn't it?"

"It would." Gabriel accepts and grips his palm, pulling himself up and stumbling Jack for a moment – at first trying to steal a quick kiss but losing himself in it amidst the laughter.

#sometimes I write #r76 #reaper76 #totallynotwitcher!au #murder-deer #lord murders-a-lot is a menace

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batskulldrag · 4 years

Text

Phoenix by Fallout Boy

chapter thirteen is here. this one contains Romile, and plenty of fluff

Chapter Thirteen: Out of Hell by Skillet

Virgil fluttered nervously past Roman for the third time. Roman watched as his nephew peered out each window and retreated back to the couch. Virgil drummed his fingers against his laptop and chewed the band aid on his stationary hand.

“You ok Billie Stylish?” Roman asked, sitting down beside him.

“Sure. I’m fine.” Virgil didn’t look up.

“It’s going to be ok.” Roman put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Payton has laughed his last laugh. And he will spend the rest of his days being beaten up in prison.”

“But what if Payton accuses you guys of being child rapists or something? Then he’s going to win because everyone always believes him, and he’ll have ruined your lives. Or he’ll lose anyway, but still manage to ruin the three of you, and I have to live with the constant guilt that this is all my fault for getting you into this. And Uncle Patton and Uncle Logan are going to be quiet about the whole thing while silent resentment grows, because everything was fine until I showed up. Or worse, they’re not, and they’re just gonna forgive me for bringing this plague down on them.”

“That’s quite the soliloquy.” Roman patted him on the head. “And that’s not going to happen. Payton can accuse us of whatever he likes, but I know a secret.”

“You can blackmail him?” Virgil jolted up.

“No, it’s like this. You remember how the bastard always told you that people always side with the adult?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m worried.”

“Well, first of all it’s a fallacy. Secondly, what is true is that people tend to side against the man who is in prison for trying to murder a child.”

“He wasn’t trying to kill me.” Virgil’s heart audibly sank. “Was he?”

Roman leaned back in surprise. Payton probably hated Virgil, at the very least he didn’t love him. And the viper had put him in the hospital more than once. Yet, Virgil was still hurt to think that Payton wanted him dead. Why should he care what Payton wanted?

“I don’t know.” Roman hugged him. “He trapped you in a burning building. If he wasn’t trying to kill you, then it just means he’s not a murderer per say. But at the very least, it means that he didn’t care if you died. And that’s not your fault. That’s on him.”

“I’m sick of being upset about this.” Virgil made a sound halfway between a scream and a sob. “I know he doesn’t care about me. Why is it still a gut punch? Why do I even still care at all?”

“Humans feel.” Roman rubbed his back softly. “And feelings never make sense.”

“I hate it.”

“Come on, let’s go do something to take your mind off things.” Roman patted him on the shoulders. “It’s about time you got to be a kid.”

# # #

Virgil chewed on his hoodie strings as the crowd gathered around the tour guide.

“Sacred of ghosts, Sweeny toddler?” Roman teased, ruffling his hair.

“I ain’t afraid of no ghost.” Virgil sneered.

“No, but I bet they’re terrified of you. We might not even see any with you around.”

Virgil laughed softly. Two hundred uncle points. Roman put his arm around him and they walked up to the guide.

“Two spots in your tour please.” Roman said as he produced the fairs with a great flourish.

“Oh, you again.” The guide exhaled. “And you have a kid with you. Great.”

The guide took the money and Roman contentedly fell into step with Virgil in tow.

“He doesn’t like you.” Virgil taunted. “Did you steal his boyfriend?”

“Virgil, a man does not steal a life partner, nor does he win one. He woos one.”

“Woo. Woo.” Virgil added with a straight face and a straighter voice.

“And the tour guide simply doesn’t appreciate me practicing my improv while I’m on his tours.” Roman explained. “Although, he is a very nice fellow. We both work as nude models at the portraiture class. He’s straight, so I had no chances.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Virgil mimicked.

“You’ve been watching a lot of sit-coms?”

“I can’t sleep some nights, so I just YouTube deep dive. And now I know how to make a life like moose out of old newspaper.”

“Chamomile tea. Try some before bed, or warm milk.”

“You make it sound like conspiracy theories aren’t good for me.” Virgil grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Did you know that there was this one lady who made her victims into soap, and she used the soap. But the worst part was she also turned them into cake, and she ate the cake.”

“Remind me to get you some video games, something less… horrible.”

“I thought video games cause violence.” Virgil smirked.

“Sure, and vaccines cause autism. Pencils cause bad handwriting, spoons cause fat people and gays in media cause gay people.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna murder a bunch of people because I’m playing Pokémon.” Virgil sneered, damn he was good at it. “It has nothing to do with the school system that does nothing to stop bulling, or the extremely abusive dad y’all sent me home to every day. It was the video games, Linda.”

“What kind of Pokémon did you have?” Roman changed the subject away from Payton.

“I had a Mew, a Haunter and a Psyduck. And a psychic type Evee.” Virgil sighed. “I went with the mind powered ones and all the ghost types.”

“That sounds fun.” Roman beamed, finally one nice thing in this little boy’s life.

“My dad broke my computer, and any other device that had my game on it.” Virgil looked at the ground. “I think they starved to death.”

Why is it that whenever something good happens you show up to ruin it? You snake in the machine, I hate you. Roman silently scripted a call out letter to Payton.

“Hey, it’s Dr. Picani.” Virgil derailed his train of thought.

Roman looked over and spotted the familiar blond-haired doctor now wearing a brown T-shirt that displayed the Scooby Doo gang and khaki cargo shorts. More importantly though was the fact that his now exposed arms showed off an array of tattoos. Roman rubbed his eyes, no way. No way did this man, this doctor have tattoos. No, it was far more likely that he had a twin brother, and that was who they saw now.

“He’s got ink.” Virgil squeaked in awe. “Let’s go say hi to him.”

Virgil grabbed his hand and darted towards the doctor. He was alarmingly strong for a kid who only weighed a hundred pounds.

“Virge, wait.” Roman said in a hushed voice, pulling the emo back. “I’m not sure we should.”

“Are you a-scared of the doctor?” Virgil laughed.

“No, he was in my still life class last week…”

“OOOOOO, you’re embarrassed to talk to a guy who has nudes of you.” He was incorrigible. “Maybe if you ask nice, he’ll give the pictures back. Or are you afraid he’ll post it on social media?”

“I’m not embarrassed for me, he ended up getting really upset and I consoled him afterwards.” Roman explained. “I’m worried if I talk to him it’ll put him in an awkward position.”

“SUUUREEEE.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “Cause the dude who strips down and poses isn’t the guy in the awkward position.”

“Why do you suddenly turn into a kid now?”

“What’s the problem?” Virgil shrugged. “So he got upset, big deal. I cried in front of him a few times and I’m not embarrassed to talk to him. If you refused to talk to anyone who’s seen you naked or who’s gotten frustrated with painting, you’d have to be a hermit. Just like if I avoided everyone who has seen me crying about something, I wouldn’t be able to leave my room.”

“You’re stunningly sharp.”

“Hey! Dr. Picani!” Virgil yelled, which Roman didn’t think he could do, as he waved over to the doctor.

Picani waved back and approached them. His legion of tattoos becoming clearer. Unsurprisingly, if anything about this could be considered unsurprising, most of his tattoos were from cartoons. The one that struck Roman in particular was the image of Lady Rainacorn wrapped around his left arm from shoulder to wrist. His right arm displayed a group portrait of Clifford, Courage, Scooby Doo, Blue, some green dog that looked like a stuffed toy who he didn’t recognize and Goddard.[1]

“Hey Virgil.” Emile greeted happily. “Hi Roman.”

“Awkward indeed.” Virgil looked over at Roman with raised eyebrows.

“Good evening Emile.” Roman added cordially. “Are you out ghost hunting as well?”

“Yeah, I figured I should get out. And this sounded like a nifty idea. What brings you to this haunted cul-de-sac?”

“We live here.” Virgil said smoothly with an air of villainy. “Well, lived here. We’re the ghosts that haunt these streets.”

“Aren’t you the cutest thing?” Emile ruffled Virgil’s hair. “It’s nice to see you so excited.”

Virgil scowled at the sidewalk as his face turned red. The tour guide started walking and they followed him in quite precession. Roman rubbed his hands in anticipation of their first stop. Now he had two people to impress.

“I didn’t know you had ink.” Virgil pressed Emile. “And I really didn’t know you had that much.”

“Yeah,” Emile looked at his arms. “I’ve got a couple of books worth of it. Lady Rainacorn is new. I think it’s healing up nicely.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Not as bad as my first one did.”

“What was the first one?”

“It was actually Clifford,” Emile showed them the portrait. “I got it to cover up a dog bite.”

“Really?” Virgil leaned back in surprise.

“Yeah, he was old and sore, and I tried to pet him. Still got me good.”

“That’s awful.” Roman added.

“It’s ok.” Emile shrugged. “He was a good boy, he just got old.”

“Alright our first stop.” The guide had everyone gather around. “This building stands abandoned due to the ghosts that torment anyone who dares try to live in it. The house was built atop an Indian burial ground. The spirits buried here cannot rest because of the desecration to their sacred place.”

“That is wholly inaccurate.” Roman added loudly. “The tormentors of the building are remnants of the poor souls who died their when it was used as an unlicensed hospital in the eighties. The proprietors mismanaged their facility horridly and would even go so far as to steal supplies from the actual hospital. They would go on to receive more unwelcomed visitors from beyond in the form of men and women who died as a result of their theft. Malpractice insurance really didn’t cover that one.”

“Really?” The guide looked bored. “Who are you tonight Roman?”

“Dr. Roman Brown. Paranormal expert.” Roman put his arm around Virgil. “I’m here with my ward.”

“How’d you get a kid?” The guide expressed genuine confusion and revulsion.

“I’ve had Virgil for a time now, I caught him trying to pick my pocket. Poor creature lived on the streets.”

“Really?”

“Yes really.” Virgil retorted. “I was abandoned as a baby on the steps of a Catholic church. But they believed that I had demon’s blood in my veins and sent me out into the streets to fend for myself when I was four.”

“You’re half demon?”

“Maybe.” Virgil shrugged. “Who’s to say? All I know is that there are a lot of things that keep trying to pull me into hell.”

“Really?” The guide scoffed.

“Just last month a hand shot up out of the dirt and grabbed my ankle.” Virgil continued flawlessly. “I fought it as it tried to drag me under and broke my foot in the process.”

Virgil pointed at his walking boot. The crowd murmured in astonishment. Roman’s heart swelled with pride.

Defeated, the guide took them to the next stop.

“Virgil, that was beautiful.” Roman said quietly. “The way you flawlessly wove your cast into the narrative as proof was inspired. I’m so proud of you, I may weep.”

“I got good at lying.” Virgil looked at his feet. “I learned from the best.”

“Never mind Payton.” Emile patted him on the shoulder. “You can just have fun making up stories tonight. Be a kid.”

“Are those doctor’s orders?” Virgil looked up at him.

“They are now.” Emile stood up straight.

Roman noticed an indent in Emile’s shirt. It looked like a stud in his navel. Did he have piercings as well? Who was this man?

“Here we have the next stop, it may not look like much, but Kim and Jim’s Bar and Grill was built on top of the remains of the old mortuary and is plagued with strange events to this day.” The guide explained, you could tell he hated this job.

“Yes,” Emile chimed in. “There was a gruesome series of experiments in the mortuary and now the woods are inhabited with the results. Terrifying amalgamations made of severed limbs. Hands attached to feet, heinous arm-leg monsters and every other combination that doesn’t include a face. Stripped of their identities they roam around helplessly.”

“And at night, when the drunks go home,” Roman added. “You can hear them crying. They’re in so much pain.”

The audience and guide looked at them, baffled.

“Of course.” Virgil suddenly said, gesturing towards Emile. “Dr. Emile Vankmen. Parapsychologist. A true credit to his field.”

There were many nods. The tourists didn’t really care for a believable story, they wanted a good story. And by the sniped snakes of a gorgon salon, that is what they were going to get.

They went through the stops, trumping the guide’s every tale with a gruesome murder, demonic happening or cartoon plot line. The crowd was eating it up and Virgil was teaming with energy. He seemed to be absorbing it and converting it into power.

“Virgil is having fun.” Emile laughed.

“I know,” Roman beamed. “We uncles know how to let one become a kid.”

“Are you related to the other two?”

“No, we’re just especially close.” Roman recalled fondly. “I cheated for Patton for a month while he was dealing with his mother’s death. Of course, without him knowing.”

“How did you do that?” Emile looked confused and slightly impressed.

“I wrote a few essays in character as him.” Roman brushed it off as if it were nothing. “I’m always up for a chance to practice my vocation.”

“Virgil, don’t let him cheat for you.” Emile looked down at where Virgil was.

Emphasis on was, because he was gone. Roman felt instant panic. He had lost Virgil! He had lost a traumatized child with anxiety! Virgil was probably terrified! What if he was hurt?!

“Where did he go!!??” Roman yelped. “He was just here? Virgil!?”

“Ok, ok.” Emile held up a shaking hand. “Maybe he walked to the front of the group.”

Through their panic they heard Virgil scream, then the tour guide and a few tourists scream.

The worst had happened! Roman ran to the front of the line and saw Virgil on the ground laughing while the guide stared at him irately.

“Virgil!” Roman grabbed him. “Don’t do that again! I thought I lost you!”

“Sorry.” Virgil relented rather easily. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I, I hadn’t considered that you’d notice I was gone.”

“Well, I did.” Roman walked back to their place in the group, holding Virgil’s hand. “I want you to stay where I can see you. It’s dark and you don’t know the neighborhood, something might have happened to you.”

Virgil was quiet as he looked at the sidewalk in confusion. He was probably wondering why no one was hitting him. In fact, he was probably wondering why Roman cared what happened to him. Roman sighed, he didn’t know how to un-traumatize a kid, all he really had to go off was how Logan had been after everything came out. And Virgil and Logan were drastically different characters with very different abusers. So, that wasn’t much of a comparison.

“Virgil.” Roman put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled. But you really scared me, and I don’t want you wandering around where I can’t see you.”

“You call that yelling?” Virgil looked confused. “It’s fine. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m sorry.”

“Ok. Let’s continue our tour.” Roman wrapped his arm around him. “But now you have to hold my hand.”

“Whatever.” Virgil rolled his eyes and smiled.

“And to this day, no one knows the cause of the building’s collapse.” The guide pointed at a vacant spot where a house had once been.

“Actually, that one was us.” Emile interrupted, feigning embarrassment. “It was how we found out about Virgil’s powers.”

“He has powers now?” The guide raised an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Virgil picked up. “Demonic powers made the whole building implode. I can control them much better now.”

“He had a nightmare that manifested itself into physical form and started haunting us.” Emile continued. “It picked us off one by one until only Virgil was left. Last thing I remember is just… blackness. No sound, no light. I don’t think I could even feel anything, then next thing I knew, I was just back and there was no more building. Not even rubble, just what you see now, with Virgil standing in the middle of it.”

“Yes, I remember that night.” Roman joined in. “A hideous creature started roaming the halls. It was six feet tall, completely black and had no face. Well, no face on its head. But it’s chest. Right where men have a navel, it had a mouth. And when it opened that horrid maw a vertical slit went up to its pencil thin neck and showed a ribcage. A ribcage broken down the middle that it used as teeth. A long red tongue cleaned saliva and blood off the jagged ribs as it drooled in anticipation of its next meal.”

“And the smell.” Virgil added solemnly. “It reeked of decay. Of maggot filled puss and blackened flesh. Not like cooked blackened, more like dead five times over blackened. And he enveloped his prey in darkness like a spider cocooning its next meal.” Virgil gagged, for real. The little one had just made himself sick.

“And he took the other two.” Virgil looked at the crowd. “I was the only one left, and just when I was sure that I was gonna die alone, with only that, that thing as company, I felt this sensation in my gut. Like a burning. And it went through my whole body and a moment of realization overcame me. This heat was natural, familiar. I realized what I was, who I was. And that thing, well, that thing was gonna pay for what it did. So, I focused my energy, my hatred, my courage on it and the whole building came down around us, and the thing was sucked into the ground, leaving me standing in an empty lot.”

“Let’s just move on.” The guide was even more unimpressed with them.

Virgil made faces behind the guide’s back for the rest of the night. Emile did as well. Roman sent him a few ungentlemanly hand gestures and internally called him a bitch. He had no taste for a good horror story. Heathen. That was an excellent description and a lovely climax.

As the night went on Roman noticed that Virgil was walking differently and always stood on his good foot whenever they stopped. When they were moving, he would either limp very slightly or hop on one foot, which he tried to cover up, but really couldn’t.

“Is your foot hurting?” Roman asked, fairly aware of the answer and the lie that Virgil would tell.

“No.”

“Yes, it is.”

“That’s a neat trick. Can you tell me if my neck hurts next?”

“Alright, come on.” Roman picked him up.

“What are you doing!?”

“I’m going to carry you.”

“Like hell you are!”

“Come on, you really mean to tell me that you don’t want a piggyback ride?”

“I’m an adult.”

“You’re a teenager at best.”

“That’s still too old.”

“But someday you’re gonna be too big to carry.”

“Yeah, yesterday.”

Ignoring him completely, Roman slumped Virgil over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and kept walking.

“Have you been sleeping better lately?” Emile asked, lagging behind slightly so he could see Virgil’s face.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“He,” Roman interrupted. “Has been watching horrific true crime stories on his computer.”

“Oh, sure. Say nothing about the newspaper moose.” Roman assumed that Virgil was sneering.

“Well, they proved that you shouldn’t be on your computer before bed.” Emile offered.

“Uncle Logan told me the same thing.”

“Wikipedia’s sleep routine doesn’t help him sleep though.” Roman accused.

“I’m telling him you called him that.”

“He knows.”

They apprehensively arrived at their last stop.

“This cemetery is a hot spot for paranormal activity.” The guide explained. “It is home to The Tunnleberry Vampire, the bipedal dogs and the ghost of many a deranged Civil War general. The most famous of which resides in that mausoleum over there.” He pointed to a large grey building with carved angels out front. “Legend has it that he was betrayed in battle and rose from the grave to exact his revenge on those who betrayed him. His lieutenant who spear headed the mutiny was found suffocated to death inside the general’s empty casket. The general’s body was never found.”

“I believe the vampire was just the cemetery caretaker in a mask.” Emile interrupted. “He wanted to increase tourism in these parts to drive up the value of this graveyard so they couldn’t sell it.”

“And those bipedal dogs turned out to be a pair of really hairy dudes banging.” Virgil shuddered. “I think it’s scarred onto my retinas.”

“But that mausoleum.” Roman said seriously. “There is definitely something about that place. Something that haunts me. Something that despite all my years of ghost hunting still strikes me as the most unnatural event I have ever been unlucky enough to witness with my own eyes.”

“Of course, there is.” The guide sighed.

“It was back when I was still trying to get my paranormal business off the ground.” Roman dove into the story. “My then partner, and senior ghost hunter, Luigi Verd, was by my side the entire time. True blue he was, I’ll always remember him. We found ourselves in this graveyard investigating a series of disappearances around town. Mostly just troubled teens, alcoholics, and the homeless. But a life is a life, and a mystery is a mystery indeed. So, we set up.”

Roman took a pause to let them get sucked in.

“I was doing most of the lifting, as Luigi was recovering from a head injury. He had healed nicely in the hospital. The only sign of trauma was a stitched-up gash along his forehead. He was excited to have a scar to show off.” Roman looked at the ground sadly. “Or so I thought.”

He could feel their anticipation.

“Just as I had set everything up for our séance, we were hoping to ask the dead for a clue about the living. Anyway, just as I had finished these hooded men burst into the tomb. They were clad in floor length, red robes with their hoods pulled up to block out their faces. Before I could even react, two of them had me by each arm and they forced me onto one of the coffins and started tying down. And Luigi, who was like a brother to me, he just watched. They didn’t even go for him, but he just watched them bind me. I called out to him, and in response. He…” Roman took an exaggerated gasp. “He pulled out the stitch on his forehead. And his skin fell limp, but behind it where I expected flesh to be was more skin. And he pulled his face off as if he were removing a mask. And under the mask, under the face of a man I had known my entire life was this… this stranger! This figure who I didn’t know from Payton, slowly pulling the hide of my friend off his face. Wearing Luigi as a mask! The stranger laughed at me! He laughed at the brutal terror that welled up inside me! And he pulled out a long sharp knife…”

“I was at the cemetery myself that night.” Virgil took up the story. “Following the dudes who were nice enough to not have me arrested for picking their pockets. In my childish mind I had sworn a life debt to them in that moment. But, little did I know that I’d be paying it off that night. Because that was when I heard the screams.”

Mimicking Roman’s style Virgil paused and took a breath.

“Being seven, whenever fight or flight came up in my brain I would normally fly. But that night, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why, I chose to fight. I sprinted towards the source of the screams and found the tomb doors closed to the outside. But did that stop me? No, with whatever strength a half-starved kid possesses I threw myself into the door and just kept slamming into it. I was in a frenzy! I just kept bashing into that door with all my weight. Seventy pounds of skin and bones ramming the door like there was no tomorrow.”

“That’s where I came in.” Emile joined. “I had hit an alligator, literally there was a tiny alligator wrapped around my tire and was trying to fix my tire when I heard both the screaming and the constant thudding. I too ran to the source and saw a small child, bruised and bloody, hammering his fragile body into the concrete doors. The first thing I did was wrestle him away from the door before he killed himself. Then, I forced my tire iron between the crack in the two doors to pry it open like a lever. It budged open an inch, but then the men inside swung it open to see what was going on. I fought them as best as I could, even managing to break one’s arm. But then their leader pulled out this whip, made out of bones, human spinal bones and he snapped my weapon out of my hands while I was still reeling from the shock. Next thing I knew I was being chained to the floor.”

“They took this distraction in their stride.” Roman shuddered. “And with Virgil and Emile dealt with they turned back to me. The knife wielder tore my shirt off in one swipe and drove his knife into my chest. Just when I thought I was done for I realized that he wasn’t about to stab me to death. Instead he slid the knife down towards my stomach, he was skinning me!”

“I did the only thing I knew how to do.” Virgil jumped in. “I played dead. And miracle of miracles, they bought it. The one with the whip bent down to check on me, and I bit him. I sank my teeth into his wrist like it was the most delicious prime rib known to man. He fought me with his free hand, but no number of blows was making me spit that fucker’s arm out. I dug in until I hit bone, I ground my teeth to widen the wound, I sunk in until I was certain that he and I were one…”

“And I took the opportunity to dislocate my thumb.” Emile jumped in on cue. “And slid out of one of my wrist restraints. With my free arm I put Virgil’s new chew toy in a head lock, he didn’t put up too much of a fight, as now he was woozy with blood loss. He collapsed, and Virgil started rooting through his body for the keys. Another robed guy came at me, so I did the worst thing I could think of. I grabbed his groin and I pulled with all my strength. He doubled over and Virgil tossed me the keys.”

“With this madness going on, the leader had stopped trying to skin me and was now running towards the other two.” Roman took the reins once more. “He flew at Emile with the knife and they engaged in battle. Meanwhile, Virgil freed me, and I took the leader from behind. Emile dodged a stab and the leader fell into his own weapon. I took it from him, and Emile took up his tire iron once more. And.” Roman stopped. “Knowing that we couldn’t go to the police for fear of how deep this madness runs, without any other options. We… we finished them off.”

“With that done. We sealed the tomb and vowed never to speak of it again.” Emile added. “And then we took Virgil to a hospital.”

“I had a collapsed lung.” Virgil added happily.

The crowd applauded them and even the guide looked impressed. Emile and Virgil were satisfied, but Roman had one more trick left.

“And,” Roman added, pulling up the hem of his shirt. “Here’s the receipt.”

He pulled his shirt up to display a long scar that went from his sternum to his navel, well past his navel actually. The scar took the place of the more traditional bellybutton. It was still visible in the evening light. The scar itself was horrid looking. It was jagged, narrow in some places and bore the impression of skin grafts in others. It folded in slightly at his stomach giving a clear picture of how deep it was.

The crowd gasped. Virgil squeaked in surprise and Emile looked on baffled (and hopefully impressed to be seeing Roman’s physique a second time.) Roman laughed to himself. This had been an excellent improv session and he had managed to both impress his nephew and a rather charming doctor.

At the end of the tour Roman had done the gentlemanly thing and walked Emile to his car. The three of them laughed about their story telling talents and the tales of terror they wove.

“Well, this is me.” Emile stopped at his car. “Thanks for walking me to my car. I didn’t want the cult to catch me alone.”

“Of course not.” Roman agreed.

“So, stop me if I’m intruding.” Emile started hesitantly. “But how did you get that scar?”

“It’s far worse than the story.” Roman sighed.

“Now you have to tell us.” Virgil bopped his shoulder.

“Ok. I was born a conjoined twin.” Roman sighed. “They had to cut us apart. Remus, that’s my brother, has the same scar. Well, at least a similar one”

“You both made it? That’s amazing.” Emile looked impressed. “Also, your names are Roman and Remus? Like Romulus and Remus?”

“I hate it when people get that reference.”

“Whatever would they have done if you were triplets?” Virgil taunted. “Hey, we all have Italian names.”

The two adults laughed at Virgil’s observation.

“Oh.” Emile started. “Would you two like a ride back home? I think Virgil over did it with the walking.”

“That would be lovely.” Roman lit up slightly.

“Woo.” Virgil said softly to Roman.

“Now Virgil,” Roman said as he buckled his seat belt. “What would you normally do if a stranger offered you a ride home?”

“Fight him to the death.” Virgil said plainly.

“Ok, the correct answer is to say no and run away.” Roman disregarded that comment.

They pulled into the driveway and saw that Patton and Logan were home already.

“Thanks for the ride Dr. Picani.” Virgil said quickly as he darted out of the car.

He was inside in a flash, no doubt to tell his parents everything he had been up to. Good. Roman exited the car with a bit more grace.

“Thank you very much for the ride back, Emile.” Roman said graciously.

“PSHSHHSHH.” Emile swatted the topic out of the air. “It was nothing.”

There was a pause.

“I had a good time hanging out with you.” Emile said timidly.

“I had a good time with you too.” Roman felt himself blush.

“I know there’s still the court case and everything…” Emile blushed as well. “But after that, when there won’t be any conflict of interest… are you single?”

“Completely.” Roman answered.

[1] The dogs are Clifford the Big Red Dog, Courage the Cowardly Dog, Scooby Dooby Doo, Blue from Blue’s Clues, Gir from Invader Zim (Hi Marie Pippins, that one’s for you) and Goddard from Jimmy Neutron

#dr. picani #romansanders #virgilsanders #romile #platonic lamp #lamp+deceit #remus and picani #sanderssideshunamau

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