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jeonqquk · 3 years

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racket | jjk

↳pairing: jungkook x reader ↳genre/tags: badmintonplayer!jungkook and badmintonplayer!reader, barely any badminton related stuff, rushed asf, accidental confession-?, they dont even kiss wtf ↳rating: everyone <3 ↳wc: 6k

Jeon Jungkook was capable of being the eighth wonder of the world. He may not have come into existence in the 1700s but his ability to do almost everything perfectly was bewildering. Whether it be eating an entire cake in the span of a half-hour or defeating even the coaches at badminton.

Everybody loved Jungkook, his sweet and caring nature paired with those godly features attracted everyone to him- in many ways. Unfortunately, you weren’t part of the everybody lot.

You hated Jungkook. Absolutely despised his abhorrent ass. So much so that if he were the last person alive, you’d even kill yourself just to stay away from him. But that was highly unlikely, so you weren’t going to kill yourself.

The hatred had just always been there, his competitive side seeming fucking atrocious to you. The feeling was mutual, though, so you didn’t feel as guilty as you would’ve if you just detested him while he behaved politely with you.

Jungkook was petty, even you knew that by now. His competitiveness always getting the better of him and turning him into someone with a completely different persona. Losing was not something he was used to. Maybe that’s why he had only a handful of friends, he would do anything to win. It could be a silly bet or even a tournament- Jungkook just had to win.

All the people he was friends with though, their relationship was beautiful. There were only 4 or 5 boys he actually got along with and their adoration for each other could be seen by anybody.

This wouldn’t have been a problem if you weren’t also as competitive as him. You’re technically in no position to say that Jungkook’s hatred towards losing was unhealthy because you hated it too. You thought it made you seem weak, incapable- and you supposed that it was the same reason as to why the youngest Jeon son hated losing as well but you never tried understanding him. Let alone let him speak for a minute if he was in a 10-foot-radius of you.

It was better this way, you thought. It was better to hate him than actually trying to befriend him and catching those unwanted feelings. Hating Jungkook was simpler, easier. Or so you thought for the 10 years of the two of you attending the same badminton academy. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the two of you were in the same class at college as well. So you had to deal with his annoying self for the larger part of the day.

It was around a month before the annual badminton tournament of your state and obviously, you and Jungkook were taking part in it, more intent on defeating each other rather than the opposing teams. This wouldn’t work though, your coach had called the two of you after practice one day and had said “Listen, Jungkook, Y/n. I know that you’re both really good players and also hate each other.” he sighs, “I’m not asking you to befriend each other, no. I just want the two of you to get along for the tournament. For the sake of our school.” The coach makes a pleading face and you just nod, looking over at Jungkook to see his reaction. He hums and looks down.

After the coach has walked away, you look at Jungkook again, getting ready to tell him that this wasn’t really going to affect the way you behaved with him but he beats you to it, his voice reaching your ears as your lips stay parted midway.

“So, I guess...no more arguing?” Jungkook finally looks at you with a slightly questioning face and you’re left momentarily blank, his proposition seeming so out of character that you’re at a loss for words. This wasn’t expected out of Jungkook. What was expected was that he would just scoff before glaring at you for no reason and stalking away. Him asking you if you wanted to stop the childish arguments the two of you had was not expected.

It takes you a minute to comprehend that Jeon Jungkook was actually trying to put an end to those mini-wars of yours. Your reply is dumb “Uh- okay.” You’re still in a daze from what he said and it’s only when he snaps his fingers in front of your face that you immediately want to spit out a sassy remark but bite your tongue on it, not wanting to disregard Jungkook’s suggestion just after seconds of it having come out of those pink lips of his.

Not knowing what to do, you nod and turn around to get into the locker rooms before heading home. You’re oblivious to the fact that Jungkook almost called your name, wanting to talk to you more, he didn’t know why, but decided against it. You wouldn’t accept the offer anyway.

The walk back to your house is quiet, you’re humming a random tune and there aren’t many vehicles on the road, except for school buses dropping kids home. Unlocking the door, you step into your house and close it behind you before keeping your bag in your room and changing out of your clothes. After all that is done, you check the time and see that it’s 3:18 pm, you have around 2 hours before badminton coaching and suddenly feeling motivated, you heat up some leftover pizza and walk into your room to paint something.

You may not be good at art, you admitted that without any shame because there were a lot of other things you could perform flawlessly. Playing badminton, whining and being able to smell any fried food from miles away to name a few. But you didn’t want to do art because you’d get good at it or something, it was something you genuinely enjoyed and the comments from other people didn’t matter as long as you were satisfied with yourself. And that meant your circles not looking like amoeba.

You take out a drawing book that had been laying in the third drawer of your desk for months and dig up some paintbrushes and watercolour tubes you had left before sitting at your desk to finally start your work. You let your fingers guide you, not thinking much about what you were doing and what the outcome would be. Occasionally dusting your hands from the pizza crumbs, you were quite focused on your work.

30 minutes later, you’re leaning back in your chair and surveying your painting. Woah, it looks pretty-

Wait is that fucking Jungkook you see? “Huh?” your forehead is creased in perplexity, did you just paint a goddamn Jungkook? It looks like Jungkook, though...the bambi eyes and that tiny pout on his lips. How did you-

You were so confused right now. What were you thinking? Well, you obviously weren’t thinking.

Wow. Apparently, you had drawn Jungkook, your sworn enemy, without knowing. Not knowing what to do with the average portrait that didn’t do any justice to his actual features, you quickly clean up your stuff and keep it all back in its respective drawers.

It’s now 4 and you get out your books to get some homework done before leaving for coaching. Ugh. You’d have to see Jungkook there too. You wonder how he’ll behave with you, hopefully, he won’t come anywhere near you.

Sighing as you finish the assignments before stretching back in your chair, you get up to change into your sports clothes before grabbing your bag and water bottle, looking at yourself once in the mirror before walking out towards the pleasantly close by badminton academy you had grown way too accustomed to.

Upon reaching the building, you walk through the reception and smile at the elderly lady who sits there every day. You push the door that leads to the courts and walk on the side, greeting your friends that were warming up. You don’t see Jungkook anywhere right now so that’s a good sign and you bow slightly at your coach in respect although the many years of being taught by the man have obviously gotten the two of you very close. Your bag is kept near a bench in its usual place and you put on the shoes you could wear only on the badminton courts before picking a corner on the side of the court and begin stretching.

You’re walking to get your racquet when you see Jungkook jogging up to your coach, saying something to him with an apologetic look before getting a playful shove from sir as he nods towards the benches where Jungkook would most probably keep his stuff and do some quick exercises before joining the rest of you.

Said boy’s gaze meets yours and he smiles. You don’t reciprocate the gesture, scoffing and moving over to Jihye who’s already looking at you with a cheeky smile adorning her face. “What?” you question, not understanding why she was acting so weird “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” she gives you a playful shove to which you reply by tch-ing and rolling your eyes, done with her childish behaviour. “Seriously Jihye what th-”

“I saw Jungkook smile at you.”

The look on your face is an accurate representation of what you were thinking right now. So what? That smile was nothing, he was just acting upon what he had said earlier. “Yeah, so?” you reply boredly, watching as Jihye’s mouth open wide- wide enough for her to fit her entire fist inside.

“Yeah, so? Are you shitting me Y/n? Jeon Jungkook just smiled at you and you didn’t even do anything in response?” you’re still watching her blankly. Although you admit that it’s not her fault entirely, even you were shocked, very shocked when he first told you about the no-more-fighting pact.

“He just said that we shouldn’t argue now, because the coach at school said that it was going to be bad for our team. You know, in the tournament.” you simply shrug, trying not to make a big deal out of the fact and Jihye is about to reply before the coach is calling all of you for a shadow drill.

Shit.

You are given one side of a court and by some way or the other, Jungkook is opposite to you, his black pants sticking to those fleshy thighs so deliciously and hi-

What?

What is wrong with you? You’ve been thinking about Jungkook unconsciously- first drawing him and now this. Get a grip Y/n.

The whistle of your coach sounds throughout the entire room and your chain of thoughts is broken as your run towards the left side of the net from your position in the centre of the court before picking up one of the shuttles and running back to the centre, moving to the right side of the net now and doing the same as you continue the drill. Jungkook is swift, his feet are balanced and he still manages to look so graceful as he runs around his side of the court.

You’re finally done with all the corners of the court twice as you move to sit in the space between the two different courts as you pant. The two people who were waiting now go to your and Jungkook’s positions as they begin the shadows drill now. You’re surprised to see that Jungkook has opted to sit next to you, you with your bright pink skirt sticking to your skin in all its glory.

“Hi.” he smiles and turns towards you with his hand outstretched in front of your form. With a questioning look on your face, you shake his hand. How far was he planning on going when he said that the two of you wouldn’t be having those silly arguments anymore? To you, it meant that the pair of you would just stick to your own places and not interact with each other or do anything that would result in the bickering to resume.

“Hey..?” Jungkook retracts his hand, leaving yours in mid-air. “So you uh wanna like hang out..um..like somewhere?” This boy had been taking you by surprise too much lately, why would he randomly ask you to hang out?

Sure he had said that he didn’t want the two of you having those little fights anymore but this? This was unexpected- really fucking unexpected.

“Uh...so suddenly?” he slightly frowns “Why? Are you uncomfortable with it? That’s totally fine though!”

Jungkook was being too friendly, a little too friendly, you were confused and shocked at his tactics but tried not to show it on your face. “I mean, yeah, okay.” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could even realise it and his face was now bright. His smile so sweet, you feel a cavity forming and he nods. “Cool! After practice then..? He trails off, suddenly hesitant and you’re still dumbfounded by how quickly things had taken a turn, for the better you supposed.

Not even a day ago, the two of you were ready to claw the other’s eyes out and now, you were agreeing to go out with him. This is not a date though. Jungkook and you are just going out to bond as friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Nodding, you smile lightly, trying to reduce some of the awkwardness from your face as you suggest a cafe to meet up at.

Practice is over and you are walking out of the academy with Jihye chattering beside you. “Oh! I almost forgot, so about that Jungkook thing. I saw the two of you talking also.” she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, or that’s what she thinks it looks like. Turning to face her, you sigh at her usual habit of sticking her nose into others’ business and tell her simply that he had just asked you to meet up at the cafe so you could just chill.

“Holy shit, it’s a date!” Jihye seems more excited about the meet-up, not date, her hands coming up to join in front of her chest as she looks at you in bewilderment. “Why are you so passive?” your friend is way too excited for something so normal but then again, this was you and Jungkook. The two of you could never go a day without insulting the other before. Now you were meeting up with the same guy at a cafe in another hour or so. When you tell Jihye this, she stops walking, putting her hand on the left side of her chest- where her heart was. Her dramatic behaviour was now normal now and you knew the reason for her overreaction.

Your love life was drier than the Sahara Desert in a fucking draught. You had been on just a handful of dates in your entire existence, only 5 or 6 of them ending up with you fucking the guy. The others had just been awkward, mainly because of your edgy self.

It wasn’t that big of a problem though, you were too occupied by your college work and badminton tournament preparations that anything else just seemed like a waste of time. For instance, instead of going out with some guy, you could stay home and binge-watch Stranger Things. There were a lot more practical things that could be done without the company of males.

The only reason you agreed to go out with Jungkook was that you wanted to see how it would end up. There was a very slim chance that your meeting would go very well but if Jungkook kept behaving as sweet as he was now, you wouldn’t even have a solid reason to be rude to the poor fellow. Nevertheless, you were not going to completely relax because one never knows.

“I’m coming over to pick out your outfit!” Jihye is excited, jumpy because this is new- you going out with someone of the opposite gender. And although it was completely normal for someone else, you just looked at your friend judgmentally, feigning annoyance and earning a light shove from her that has you stumbling on the sidewalk.

“‘Kay'” she squeals when you agree and invites herself to your house, saying that you should take a shower while she picks out your outfit. You trusted her though, Jihye’s fashion sense was really good and you knew for a fact that whatever she would pick out would be trendy.

Unlocking your house with the bronze key, you walk in and keep your bag in its place before walking to get a glass of water for Jihye and yourself. She accepts and plops down on your couch before you pull her up by the arm, a disgusted look on your face. “Go wash up first.” she pouts but heads into the bathroom near the hallway nonetheless to wash up. You shout to her from your room that you’re heading to shower and she shouts back an “Alright.” from downstairs as you open the door, heading in for a steamy shower.

40 minutes later, you’re getting out of your bathroom, content, to Jihye’s shrieking. Something along the lines of missing the date and you roll your eyes when you hear the last word. It was not a date for God’s sake!

You nonchalantly nod at no one in particular and apply your cream before heading out in a bathrobe. She’s sitting on your bed with some outfits placed on your bed. At first glance, they all look colour-coordinated with some accessories here and there but upon closer inspection, you see that every piece of clothing on your mattress was one of the shortest you had in every category.

“Do you want me to look like a slut?” you ask with your arms folding in front of your chest, and Jihye looks at you with wide eyes, offended that you even had the nerve to comment on her outfit-picking skills.

“No! These are all fine for a meet-up.” She uses finger quotes for the last word and you smile to yourself, “Uh, let me just stop you there. I don’t really know what people mean when they use this.” you make the finger quotes and she gasps “Did you just-” your shoulders raise and as the laughter dies down, you walk closer to the bed, mentally evaluating each outfit she had oh so carefully picked. They’re all really stylish, you gotta admit that but you’d never say it to her face. The one closest to the headboard consists of a full-sleeved plain white turtleneck that had a greyish-brown dress that reached your mid-thigh laid on top of it. It was something you could wear, maybe with some electric pink leggings. You see that Jihye, who is now rummaging in your collection of shoes, has also laid some black boots in front of the bed that matched the first dress.

Your gaze travels to the one on the middle one and you immediately furrow your eyebrows, already ruling the strapless crop top and ripped shorts out. Too much skin.

The one to the far left is also decided to not be inappropriate for the occasion as you didn’t think Jungkook would want to see you in a burgundy top with spaghetti straps. The jeans that had too many huge holes in them didn’t even look cool at this point. What were you thinking when you bought this.

Jihye comes out with some heels for one of the outfits “Why are you even putting so much effort into this? I can just wear a shirt and sweats.” She huffs out, unamused, as you giggle at her annoyed face. “Kidding. So, I really like this one.” you point at the dress and she smiles slyly “Showing off your long legs I see.” Punching her shoulder, you make some place to sit on the bed, glad that you shaved today. “Now, get out of my room. I need to change and apply make-up.” She nods and you watch her close the door behind her, getting up to lock it for extra safety measures.

Not like she was gonna barge in and catch you in your star printed underwear anyways. Changing into the turtle neck and then the dress, you look at yourself in the mirror and if it wasn’t your frizzy hair, you would even think you looked cute. You brush your hair and settle for a high ponytail. Putting on your shoes, you apply a little bit of make-up, not wanting to seem overly eager but the excessive amount of perfume may or may not give you away.

As you open the door and walk down to where Jihye has changed into some sweats she had kept in your house for times like these, she gasps upon seeing you, chip almost falling out her mouth and chews it before widening her eyes comically “Babe! You look so good.” you smile at her compliment, giving her a twirl as she gets up to probably to hug you before deciding against it, shaking her head.

“So, is my make-up looking fine?” she nods furiously and you pick up your purse that was on the dining chair before looking at the clock to see that you only have ten minutes before Jungkook arrives. You bid Jihye goodbye, not worried in the slightest bit about her being alone at your house.

As you’re walking, the cafe comes into view and you spot a familiar figure walking into the shop as well and you increase your speed to enter at the same time as Jungkook to make it seem as if you weren’t even slightly late. He doesn’t notice you even when you’re right behind him and walks to a table to sit down as you sit opposite him immediately, realising that he had walked to a two-people table in the corner of the shop.

His eyes widen and he stutters out in shock, “O-Oh, you’re here,” Nodding, you hide a smile and greet him back, trying not to get into an argument with him. It’s silent for a while, you think of anything to say to break the awkward atmosphere but just as you’re looking up from the ground to speak to Jungkook, his voice is filling your ears. “Do you want to order?” He waits and you simply nod, “Okay, I’ll come to get my coffee.”

Just as you’re getting up, Jungkook keeps his hand on you without warning, head shaking frantically. “No! I mean, I can get it for you.” Looking up in surprise, you’re unable to speak for a moment. Did Jeon Jungkook just say that he would buy you coffee?

You shake your head and snap out of your trance. Or at least you try to. “No, it’s alright. I can get it myself.” Jungkook rushes to quieten you again and looks like he won’t let you win, so you sigh and back down. “Fine.” He giggles and walks off to the counter while you take your phone out to kill time. Getting bored when you see that there are not any notifications, you switch the device off and look out of the window, watching as people get out of their cars for a pitstop at the cafe before driving away again.

“Here are the coffees.” You turn your head and see Jungkook setting two cups of coffee on the table before sitting himself. Looking at what he got you, you thank him for bringing the correct order and he just sends a light smile in your direction, rubs his hands together and picks up the cup with both hands. You almost coo, but hold yourself together. This was your enemy.

That reminds you, “So, why are you suddenly being so kind to me? It’s really weird to experience you treating me nicely.” You hadn’t meant for your tone to come off as accusing, but it does, and you have to watch Jungkook’s eyes flash with hurt for a second before shaking his head lightly. He places his cup back in the small saucer and his hands on either side of it.

“I knew you would ask me this.” egging him on with a raise of your eyebrows, you take a sip of your coffee “Remember how Coach said that we should stop arguing?” At your nod, he licks his lips and continues on with his explanation, “Well, I thought about it-” “You told me to stop arguing right after he left.” “I thought about it and I decided that we really shouldn’t be having these fights. Like, what’s the point? I’m not getting anything out of it. You’re not getting anything out of it.” He ignores your words and when you hear his, ask yourself why you hadn’t tried to put a stop to the childish arguments you had with Jungkook.

You don’t know why you ever fought back. Well, you did hate losing and Jungkook did everything to rile you up- so he was at fault too- but there was no specific reason as to why you hated Jungkook so much. “I don’t know, you were the one who started them. I don’t have a problem with becoming friends.”

Jungkook looks at you, looking as if he’s trying to figure something out, pouty lips looking kissable but you quickly brush those thoughts off. “So..” his hands come closer to yours and you’re shocked to feel your heart starting to beat faster, its pace picking up as Jungkook’s hand comes closer to yours. “..friends?” his pinky intertwines with yours and you feel your face turn red, the action igniting something in you.

Looking down at your fingers intertwined seems to be a big mistake as you gasp, the sight just overwhelming you. His hand fit in yours perfectly, and even if he meant it just as friends, you couldn’t help but imagine how it would be to be loved by Jungkook.

No! You two just started behaving normally around each other and you’re already thinking about loving him?

A voice in your head sounds as Jungkook retrieves his hand to pick up the call that had distracted you. You take your hand back and keep it in your lap, tingling sensations till lingering.

Jungkook looks at you apologetically for a second, and you reassure him that he could take the call but he tells whoever was on the other side of the line that he was busy, cutting the call after he told the person that he would call them back later.

“Sorry about that.” you barely catch his mumble and shake your head, “Don’t worry.” As you finish your coffee and make small talk with Jungkook about random things, you start growing more comfortable around him, cracking jokes and laughing at his lame ones. You’re discussing some things about the upcoming tournament when Jungkook suddenly leans in closer.

You move back out of shock and he stills, eyes suddenly going wide as his breathing halts. Your own starts getting heavy, his sudden action having caught you terribly off guard. After partially having gained your composure back, you see that Jungkook is still in the same position, “J-Jungkook?” He takes a moment to snap out of whatever trance he was put in and blinks once, twice before gasping loudly and jerking backwards. His back hits the chair and his mouth is still open in shock at what he did.

“S-Sorry..” he trails off, chewing his lip and your eyes follow the motion carefully before darting them back to his face quickly. He furrows his brows and starters ahead of you before shaking his head, murmuring something to himself. “You ok there?” you try to keep your voice soft, soothing as Jungkook shifts his gaze to you, wide eyes looking absolutely adorable.

You question him again, worried, “What wa-” “I like you.”

Silence.

You sputter, his words having caught you off guard and if Jungkook’s eyes could go any wider, they do, his hand instantly coming to slap over his face and he curses, “I-fuck.” You’re still shocked by his confession and your brain takes time to process what he said, the three simple words not registering in your mind until suddenly, Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the present.

“Y-Y/n?” He sounds hesitant, and your face must be an accurate representation of what you’re feeling right now because Jungkook begins speaking again, his eyes filled with worry as he tries to fix his mistake. “No. I mean, yes, I like you-” Your face portrays horror at his words again and he rushes to correct himself, hitting himself on the head once.

“You what?” Your voice is hushed for unknown reasons and Jungkook looks around, trying to calm himself down by breathing in and out and you use the time to do the same, the initial shock having worn off as you exhale loudly and take a bite out of the cookie from the small plate he had gotten.

“I like you, Y/n.” Jungkook’s tone is more serious this time, and you try maintaining a straight face, his words finally sinking and you choke on your saliva. “Like like me?” you question dumbly and he nods desperately, licking his lips and drumming his fingers on the table, a nervous habit of his.

“Oh,” Jeongguk tilts his head at your response and you muster the courage to ask him a question that had been lingering on your mind ever since he confessed. “Since..?”

He coughs loudly into his mouth, trying to hide the blush that creeps up his cheeks and looks at you with a suddenly brave gaze, “I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/n. The reason I started annoying was because I wanted you to notice me, not because I disliked you...And better confess now instead of regretting not doing anything before right?” Your mouth is left hanging at his confession now, the real reason for his pestering finally coming out into the light.

“Why would you annoy me, though? You could've just come up and talked to me, it would've been way easier for us.” At this, Jeongguk blushes, trying to cover his burning cheeks from you and cups his face in his hands. “I don’t know..you were really annoying, to be honest.”

“I was annoying- you asshole!” You lean over and hit his arm, much to his chagrin and he frowns before swatting your arm away. Silence falls over the two of you, but it's not the awkward kind, you just sit quietly, drowning yourself in thoughts about Jungkook.

“So…” Beside you, Jungkook shifts shyly and lowers his head when you look at him, the sight igniting something warm inside you. “Can I ask to ask you out?” His hair sits prettily atop his forehead, hands on his lap and his lips are scrunched into the cutest pout.

“Why don’t you ask me and find out?” You aim for a teasing tone, but miss by a mille, instead sounding breathless and at this, Jungkook smiles before leaning in closer. “Will you go on a date with me?”

Even though you knew he was going to ask you, the words still send tingles throughout your entire body, heart racing and you nod before you can even think.

It has you suddenly thinking about the drastic turn of events. The guy who was once (not even a few hours ago) your biggest enemy had just confessed to you and was asking you out. You’re thinking if it was a bad decision, but with Jungkook looking so innocent and just, like a child, it’s hard to think straight. Your heart beats erratically as Jungkook gives you one last soft smile before getting up and walking to pay, and you try chasing him and stopping him from paying for both your and his drinks but as much as you want to, you’re still stuck in place, everything that happened recently replaying in your head. He comes back in a few minutes and holds out his hand for you to take, and as you’re getting up with his help, your heart can’t help but flutter, the feeling of his warm hand encompassing yours turning you mushy like dough.

“Seriously?” You can’t help but scoff, and beside you Jungkook lets go of your hand to feign an offended face. “What! You said you liked Call of Duty!” Jungkook defends himself and you stare blankly at the venue of your first official date with Jeon Jungkook.

The baby pink blankets that adore his couch look inviting, so do the various snacks on the coffee table but still, this was your first date. You had really expected him to go all out and take you to dinner at a classy restaurant. And then maybe have ended with a drumline playing on a bridge. Ok, maybe that was too much.

This doesn’t mean that you’re disappointed, though. Nope. This- a date on Jungkook’s couch with Call of Duty and snacks- was perfectly fine. Great, even. You finally crack a smile, nudging his shoulder and muttering a ‘Just kidding.’ under your breath when his face turns sad.

You grab his arm and sit on the couch, patting the space beside you for him to occupy as you shuffle through the unhealthy packs of chips and nachos to find your favorite one. Jungkook grabs a drink and you shuffle under the soft blanket, curling up and look at Jungkook, trying to act cute as you prepare to embarrass yourself.

“Cuddle with me?” Jungkook almost spits his drink out, surging forward as his head turns towards your direction you’re positive he gets whiplash. “W-What-Did you..” Nodding, you try pouting but know for a fact that it looks more awkward than cute and huff out, “Just-” Jungkook nods suddenly, “Ok.” and gets under the covers. Your face heats up when you finally realise that you just asked The Jeon Jungkook™ to cuddle with you, and as he ever so slowly crawls towards you, your body turns stiff.

“I-Is this okay?” Jungkook hovers his hand over your waist and as you look at him with wide eyes, you nod lightly, indicating the green signal, his body heat not helping at all. Jungkook’s soft voice filters through your ears, and you swear you could listen to him forever. Even if he was making fun of your obsession with hard peaches. Yes.

“We can watch a movie if you want..and then play COD?” he suggests and you mumble out a “Sure” and watch as he picks up the remote to scroll through the various apps whose subscriptions he had.

He pauses at Netflix. “Can we watch Full House?” his voice is timid, and you turn to furrow your eyebrows at him, wondering why he would seem hesitant while asking that. Everyone loved Michelle.

“Why not?” At your words, Jungkook’s eyes light up and he smiles widely, turning towards the TV to play the show.

You rip open a packet of Cheetos and Jungkook tries (keyword: tries) to slyly wrap his arm around you from behind but doesn’t go unnoticed, and you move forward for him to easily slide his arm around you, not even bothering to look at his red face because there’s a really high chance that you’ll combust.

2 episodes into the new season, you turn to Jungkook and he notices, eyebrows raised as you gulp,

“I think I like you too.”

“That would’ve been really romantic if your Cheetos breath wasn’t hitting my face.”

epilogue

“Yesss, get it Kook!” Jungkook comes running up to you and you slap his arm in enthusiasm. He hugs you, tight, and your arms wrap around his body as well, congratulating him in his victory. His last hit had been a smash, one his opponent hadn’t been able to defend and the match had indeed with your school winning, the trophy yours for the third time in a row.

“We won.” The words coming out of Jungkook’s mouth urge you to hug him tighter, and you do, nodding although he probably can't see you. “We did.” Your boyfriend lets go of you to embrace his teammates and you laugh with all of them, and when your eyes meet Jungkook’s, realise that he may not be as bad as you first thought him to be.

tysm for reading whatever the fuck this is <3 send in feedback, if you want!

taglist: @cosplay-snow-white @neoculturedtrash @bluejaem @orange-lemon-cross @thatonemultistan @multi--kpop--fanfics @whiteprincessofnohr @chittaslee @multifandomnet @jaeminpeachy @jaeminpeachy-reblogs @kyuwoyo @cupidluvstarrz @thats-a-jen-no-no @johnyusangel @guksauce @tokyohobi @crazyboutjooni @trashlord-007 @masterninjacow @kpop-and-anime-for-me @madotae @minblank @byeolhyesisi @gustingirl @twilightkoo-bangtan @ethereal-eirene send an ask or dm to be added!

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ilovelollipopx · 4 years

Text

Diana x Reader MistleToe

“What's the point of this holiday, it seems unnecessary” the moon aspect complained examining the variety of decorations to be set on the tree in front of her.

“It's a time where you can shelter from the formidable snow and enjoy the warmth of the hearth, mainly with loved ones and family,” you answered as you finished up hanging the colorful ornaments that had now adorned the beautiful pine tree.

Stretching your limbs and you stepped back to examine your work with a smile.

“Why are there stars on the ceiling?” Diana asked

Turning around to face her you followed her view and she was right, glowing, twinkling stars right on the living rooms ceiling. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, of course, you knew why.

“Well since you were being such a sour puss earlier Zoe had passed by and offered to help me decorate” you answered

Earlier Zoe being the energetic aspect she was offered to help on her way to Mount Targon, after all delaying her inevitable chaos for a while was a better choice.

Moving to the kitchen you left The aspect of the moon to examine the newly decorated house, you were always into the winters spirit and the festivities that came along with it. Plus you weren’t anyone too special, just someone who enjoyed their time doing leisurely things near Mount Targon. Who when stumbled upon and injured targonian was skeptical at first after all the lunari and Solari had too many problems that you never wanted to mix in with.

That's how you met Diana, after first she didn’t think anything of the help you offered, but was surprised when you didn’t judge her for her thinking. Eventually, she warmed up to you and her visits became frequent. Her company was nice and made things less quiet. Even though she was practically quiet and reserved herself.

Adorning some oven mitts you opened the ovens door, the sweet warm aroma of gingerbread cookies flooded your senses. Quickly taking them out and setting them on the stove as to not let them burn if left any longer. Smiling at the little octopus and stars Zoe had created, they were cute even if some were a bit crooked.

A knock on the door caused your attention to sway to the door. You already knew who it was or at least hoped it was the opposite of trouble. Slipping the mitts off and making way to the door as Diana followed in tow no longer in the living room with her weapon drawn. Gripping on to the handle you pulled back the door and was greeted with the sight of Zoe now adorned with Ornaments in her hair, and various other things that you didn’t know were stuck in her hair or purposely put there.

“You’re right on time the cookies are just now cooling” you smiled and let her in. Diana put her weapon away but as you looked at her she didn’t look all too pleased with the twilight child being here. Closing the door you grabbed Diana’s hand abruptly. “Hey Zoe could you mix the icing colors for us?” you asked as already she was in the kitchen. She nodded and grinned, beginning the task at hand. Hopefully, she wouldn’t cause a mess, or worse burn down the house somehow.

Pulling the white-haired female along into another part of the house you faced her.

“What’s up I can practically feel you one minute away from pouncing on Zoe,” you ask

She shifted leaning on to one-foot face already slightly scrunched up,

“ She can’t be trusted I have witnessed her destroy villages with her silly games! I would not want you to be without a home in the middle of winter” her mouth formed into a frown and her eyes shaped into her famous glare

“Listen how about we’ll both watch her until she leaves, if she does anything reckless that will cause harm to us or the house which I highly doubt then I’ll kick her out”, really you had wanted to say she was chosen when she had the childlike mindset so its no wonder she still has it as an aspect.

Begrudgingly she averted her gaze in a huff, which is something you’ve learned over the time spent as a stubborn agreement. The two of you headed back to the kitchen and a simple wave was all that was given as to return Zoes overdramatic wave. Walking up next to her you began the work on the now cooled cookies separating them on to three separate plates. Handing them their plates you began to set to work on the cookies lying on the plate in front with the multi-color of piping icing bags that Zoe set up earlier.

Time passed by slowly as decorating was an easy task, well that's what you thought at first. Stepping back to examine the work of the two females beside you, looking over to Diana’s work of art, she seemed to be focusing but also struggling with decorating and the end result was not all that pretty. Hovering over Zoe the first thing you saw was gingerbread men dipped in moon cake, which caused you to smile.

It didn’t take too long for the two to finish, once they were they examined each other.

“This holiday calls for gingerbread men not whatever you created,” Diana remarked holding up her gingerbread man clearly proud of her effort with a smirk.

“Well at least you can tell mine are octopuses and not lumps of coal” countered Zoe sticking her tongue out

The cookie that was once intact in Diana's hand as she was had crumbled as her fist clenched. Not wanting to have things escalate any further you intervened,

“You both make wonderful looking cookies, but as I recall Zoe you don’t want to get to Mount Targon Later than intended?”

Whatever Zoe began to blubber on about didn’t matter as she grabbed her mooncake/cookie mix dessert with her to the door as you were escorting her to the door. Knowing she wouldn’t remember it the next time she visits.

“Im glad you enjoyed baking, and you are always welcome here Zoe”

“You’re the best y/n! Though even Gingerbread men can’t counter Mooncake!” the excitement in her tone gave it already that on her next destination would be sugar-filled. Before closing the door after wavering her goodbye she stuck her tongue out of course you didn’t pay much mind to it.

Turning around you were met with Diana which was likely who the ill-intended tongue stick out was aimed for. Rolling your eye playfully she seemed to be confused.

Pointing over your head her eyes were filled with visible confusion. Looking up to see what she was staring at you saw mistletoe hanging above your head, which you could've sworn wasn’t there before. A mischievous look crossed your face before you pulled Diana closer and connected your lips with hers. Her lips were cold at first but that wasn’t something that bothered you, she didn’t move her eyes were wide in shock. A few seconds passed before she leaned into the kiss the flush on her cheeks heating up to a slight red.

Breaking the kiss you smirked,“Not all holidays are so bad aren’t they?”

You’d have to thank Zoe later.

#diana #diana league of legends #diana aspect of the moon #diana x reader #league of legends x reader #league of legends #league of legends imagines #league of legends imagine #league of legends headcanons #league of legends headcanon

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thedistantstorm · 4 years

Text

Project Compass 11

Read Along on AO3 Here

<< Previous Chapter << >> Next Chapter >>

This time: Thrawn tells Ezra a story. Un’hee takes matters into her own hands.

Next time: Thrawn and Eli visit Thrass at the Mitth family estate on Copero. Thrass is brought up to speed on developments within the CDF.

“Thrawn?” Ezra waved a hand in front of his face. He hadn't responded in nearly thirty seconds, withdrawing hard into his thoughts. When the Chiss finally blinked, he ventured, “You alright?”

“I am fine,” Thrawn said slowly. His tone was normal, and his face was characteristically expressionless. It was his eyes that betrayed him. “I have much to think about,” He said. “Thank you for informing me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ezra said, kicking off his boots beside Thrawn’s bed in an act of courtesy while ignoring his obvious dismissal. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to meditate in here.” There was a spark to the Force-sensitive human’s eyes that said he’d be sticking to Thrawn, whether he liked it or not.

“As you wish.”

The lack of a stern refusal or glare, even the slightest tick of his mouth to indicate his displeasure did not come. Ezra thought that was rather telling, as much as the shock radiating off Thrawn in the Force. Ezra kneeled at the edge of Thrawn’s bunk and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and preparing himself to sink into the familiar waters of meditation.

Thrawn was not a being who slumped, but when Ezra reached out with the Force, he felt the pressure of the older man's tumultuous emotions pressing down upon him like a physical weight. This, Ezra realized, was more than just friendship. His feelings of despair and responsibility were overwhelming. Thrawn saw himself as a leader. A commanding officer. His futility hit like a tsunami, a wave that threatened to sweep Thrawn away with it.

A moment more, Ezra reflected on him in the Force. "I think you should talk to him," He said, keeping his eyes closed.

The only sound in the room was their breathing. Thrawn might have looked Ezra's way, assessing him, but Ezra remained smooth and serene, mostly adrift in his abilities. It was a Kanan move, Ezra thought, offering up his own longing and grief to the Force. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that Thrawn was in fact staring at him.

"It was a military exercise and therefore classified. I am his subordinate. It would be inappropriate."

Ezra exhaled, then inhaled deep and even, willing himself to settle back within the flow of the Force. Thrawn didn't seem keen on continuing to speak, and so Ezra let his consciousness expand, feeling the threads and patterns that the Force cast around everything. He felt his own connections, the unlikely friendship he'd fostered with Thrawn, his relationships among the crew scattered about the levels above and below him. And like a beacon, he sensed the Navigators: clear and bright. Vah'nya, in particular, was like a light in a storm, brilliant and strong within the Force. She must be instructing the other Navigators, smaller, fledgling bright spots that twinkled like newborn stars.

He wasn't sure how long he drifted like that before bringing his mind back to his immediate surroundings, but Thrawn had recovered somewhat and was watching him tentatively when he surfaced from his meditative state. He seemed wary, Ezra thought, but composed.

"How would you go about it?" Thrawn asked him while he stretched his legs. "If our roles were reversed."

Ezra considered. Carefully, he said, "I'm not sure I have enough information to tell you."

That gave the Chiss pause, but only for a second. Seeming to make up his mind, Thrawn asked,"When is your next lesson?"

"This afternoon, after the mid-day meal. Fourteenth hour," He said, though he suspected Thrawn already knew. It was an out, if Ezra desired one. He did not.

"Very well," Thrawn replied. "I shall start at the beginning."

It sounded like a holonovel, even in Thrawn's emotionally devoid tone, his recollection almost as neutral as a third party narrator. Or, at least, that's how it started. Thrawn spoke of Ivant as an impressionable, kind-hearted, but highly intelligent cadet who had been treated poorly and discredited due to his Wild Space heritage. Thrawn had seen something worth considering in him, and that one life had been of such little consequence to the Emperor that he'd given Vanto over like he was pet, not a person.

Ezra held back commentary or judgement even as Thrawn described upending Vanto's desired career path. "He would have been wasted on supply," Thrawn said. "He did not recognize his own abilities because he had never been put into a place to allow them to flourish. It mattered little to the Empire who was kept at my side, thus I was able to teach him to see and understand."

A lot of Thrawn's story was military procedure and function. Lessons Vanto had learned with Thrawn's guidance. Vanto's political insight, which Ezra read into as a shortcoming on Thrawn's part. He learned way too much about a rebel named Nightswan, whom Vanto and Ezra clearly agreed had been an obsession on Thrawn's part, even if he was rarely wrong about the man's motives and operations.

He learned a lot about Pryce, too. Pryce, who he'd always known was evil, but hearing about Batonn only solidified everything. In learning about her hand in Thrawn and Vanto's paths, Thrawn had touched on something else. He'd glossed over it, but Ezra hadn't been fooled.

"She saw Vanto as your weakness," Ezra mused. "He was being treated unfairly, and it was something you wanted, rather than needed. He could have stayed an Ensign but it would have been cruel."

"Yes, although it was Tarkin who facilitated the promotion," Thrawn recalled, "Pryce had been critical in removing that block. I am to believe it was one of Tarkin's enemies that caused the issue in the first place. Vanto seemed aware of it, though he did not share his concerns in this matter with me after it had been made clear I was recommending him for commendations at every opportunity."

"Huh," Ezra murmured. "Go on."

Thrawn did. Towards the end, something had changed about his relationship with Vanto. They had gone from Admiral and Commander to what Ezra would definitely classify as friends. Thrawn was proud of Vanto's progress, his ability to think tactically, while substantially different from Thrawn's art-inspired studies, were impressive. In many ways they understood each other, but they respected their differences and individual personalities. "He would become a great leader, someday," Thrawn said. "I knew there was no possible way for him to do so under me, and no way the Empire would take him seriously after a career at my back. And with Nightswan no longer an option, I decided to present him with an opportunity."

"What would you have done with Vanto if you had been able to send Nightswan here?"

Thrawn's lips thinned into a frown. "It is uncertain." One possibility, Thrawn reasoned, was that he would have seen Karyn Faro through to command her own fleet, and that he would have pushed for Vanto to be made his true second in command. He doubted it would be made so without extreme hardships and potential career suicide for one or both of them, now. Would conflicts have evolved similarly, otherwise? It was impossible to say.

Eventually he'd continued, giving a brief summary of Vader aboard the Chimaera after Atollon, of the Grysk and the Navigators, and then he'd moved on. There was no ill-will toward the Rebels or Ezra detected. It was strange, in a way, but Ezra didn't dwell on it.

There were more pressing matters.

"You gave him the TIE Defenders?" Here Ezra's voice rose sharply in disbelief.

"For a brief operation, yes," Thrawn confirmed silkily. "The pilots respected him as their Commander, and would heed his word as if it were my own."

"But he left the Empire."

"Technically, they knew he was on assignment. For all they knew, he was infiltrating their ranks at the Emperor's behest." Thrawn watched as Ezra frowned. "What is it?"

"You trusted him a lot," Ezra said.

"A Commander should always have faith in his subordinates."

"More than that. That was a gamble, even if your loyalties always were more with the Chiss than the Empire. If something went wrong..."

"I knew it would not."

"But if it did?"

"I was prepared to deal with the fallout, but knew that if something went awry, Lieutenant Vanto was prepared for it."

"Hmm," Ezra said, and left Thrawn to finish his tale: his pride at Admiral Ar'alani promoting Vanto with the CDF, the Admiral's warning, and finally, the Emperor's ominous, ambiguous threat. The rest, Ezra knew first hand.

"Your questions," Thrawn encouraged, taking in his younger counterpart's contemplative stare. "Or conclusions."

"Well," Ezra paced in the small space as he put together his thoughts. "I still think you need to talk to him, man to man." He frowned. "But I also don't think that whatever happened with the Grysk was actually your fault. I mean, how could it be?"

"There are several possibilities, but they all seem highly unlikely. I suspect the Navigators were purposefully misleading you, and by extension, me."

"I caught on by reading their body language," Ezra admitted. Neither Navigator would confirm his suspicion, but they definitely didn't deny it. "I know some part of their mission had to do with you." Rubbing the back of his head, Ezra adds, "Though… I mean, it doesn't really matter what the reasons are. You feel responsible because you sent him here and something bad happened to him. You obviously care about him a lot." The Jedi paused. "What do you want out of all this?"

"Our dynamic has never been so… strained," Thrawn settled on, "Even in its infancy. I had hoped our friendship would continue, but I am starting to believe that is not in the realm of possibility."

Ezra sat back on the edge of the bed. Thrawn's hands dangled over the armrests of the chair. They met each other's eyes. "Things can't go back to how they were, though. I mean, he outranks you now. Whatever he's doing now with the Navigators appears to be a success."

"Perhaps he does not require my guidance," Thrawn considered. It should feel rewarding, there should be an element to pride in such a success. And yet...

The Chiss's voice had a jagged edge to it, rough and torn and raw. Ezra blinked once, then twice, staring as the dots connected. He exhaled slowly through his nose, then inhaled and braced himself for Thrawn's reaction.

"You wanted to know my conclusion," Ezra started, waiting for Thrawn to acknowledge him. He did, so Ezra spoke honestly. "I think you're in love with him."

Navigator Un'hee was not an uncommon sight in the officer's lounge. Most of the time, she stuck to a corner of one of the smooth leather couches or the armchair nearest the overhead lamp if it was midday and no one was around.

Of course, all of that was a moot point if the Captain was present. She stuck to him like a shadow. The Captain rarely had time to himself, but made it a point to be available to his crew. Rarely did said crew need him, but it was the point. The humble, earnest qualities in their human commanding officer were mildly contagious. It bred hard work, understanding. Commitment. None of the crew had requested transfer outside of promotion, and all those seeking promotion wanted to attain it within the same ecosystem. It spoke a lot about the climate Ivant created.

Right now, the officer's quarters were empty, save for one person. Said person sat at an empty table, cold tea in front of them, looking at something on a datapad.

"Hi," She ventured softly, startling him from his thoughts. Of course, no Chiss would show such a thing, but Un'hee always could tell. "May I sit with you?"

Thrawn's red eyes slipped over her, silently appraising. She knew he could not tell her no, however he could make up something and leave. But, she also knew he was curious. He had frightened her at first, when they'd met, but almost everything had. She waited patiently, datapad and a small, ancient looking book held in her hands.

"You may," He said, inclining his head toward the empty chair beside him. It had taken him four seconds to consider.

Instead of utilizing her datapad, she opened the smaller tome. Though it was small in size, it was still thick, though she selected the page she needed without a page marker. She could feel his eyes on her as she settled in to read.

It took him several minutes to return to his own reading, and for a while, the only sounds between them were the flip of parchment and the tap of fingertips against the touchscreen. Un'hee did not particularly enjoy reading scholarly texts about Sight. In fact, she rather detested it. But this one, she did not. The deep blue ink upon the pages was beautiful and contrasted nicely with the color of the pale but yellowing parchment. This text was nearly a millennia old, and yet it still looked as it had when its author completed it.

"I am surprised such an old artifact was allowed out of the capitol," Thrawn said.

Un'hee sighed. "This one is the best of the ones I've read so far. I think they're easier to focus on when you can turn the pages." She slid her finger down the margin carefully.

"You enjoy reading," He commented.

"Perhaps. Not like you enjoy art, though."

"Not many have such in-depth hobbies."

Un'hee swung her legs, feet dangling above the ground. "Perhaps," She said again. "I am interested in how my sisters and I learn and grow," She said. "I wish to be more. Stronger."

"Yet you read meditative texts," He inclined his head toward her current study. "They are hardly concrete in providing evidence or metrics for improvement."

The young Chiss shrugged. "Well, we have Ivant to do math for us," She said casually. Thrawn did not react, though she eyed his shoulders, waiting to see if he'd tense and attempt to leave. She continued, innocently enough, "I think that I seek more of a spiritual understanding of strength. My mind was… injured by my captivity," She supposed aloud. "I had to fight to prove I was not too damaged to serve our people. I still do."

Thrawn set down his datapad and looked at her. Really looked at her. At first, he suspected this to be some convoluted plan cooked up between her and Bridger, the latter had been exceedingly oppressive with his presence and some strange mix of support and sympathy since their last discussion of his supposedly tender emotional state.

Un'hee saw a different connection between them. And, Thrawn suspected, noting the way she did not hide or attempt to conceal her intentions, they were likely genuine. He could not consider himself a prisoner in the same sense that she had been. But to the Navigator, that did not seem to matter. She recognized a kindred spirit.

"I do not believe your superiors would find you taking up with me to be in your best interest," He said. "I also, as you say, find myself fighting to prove I am not too 'damaged.'"

"I do not wish to discuss your emotional state with you," Un'hee said, of the trap he'd rather slyly placed. "Your emotions are not my place, despite my worries."

"I suspect you have been apprised of the situation," He mused.

"Vah'nya taught Ezra the Cheunh word for gossip," She rolled her eyes. "He is clueless, but kind. He means well, though I think he will make things worse."

"He is under explicit instructions to withhold his urges to assist in my 'situation,'" Thrawn intoned casually.

"Which is why they sent me." She twisted in her seat to face him. "Vah'nya's hands are tied and so are Ezra's. He won't go against your wishes where you can see it," She said, "But..."

"I too suspected such a ploy, however I remain unsure as to your purposes in telling me this."

Un'hee looked up into Thrawn's face. She did not see facial heat or any indication of irritation, and he felt cool, collected, and calm from what she could sense. She exhaled, folding her fingers together in her lap, then looking down to her book. She closed it and ran her fingers across the cover, then tapped it twice.

"I will not get involved," She said to him, muted and sharp, all at the same time. It reminded him of a much younger Admiral Ar’alani. "Do you understand?"

Thrawn inspected the cover of the small text, noting the artwork on the front. It was old, traditional Chiss style, elegant and abstract and a myriad of blues with hints of gold and white. The colors were vibrant and of a gradient that faded from dark to light, indicative of a Navigator at the height of their Sight. Amidst the coloration, however was another design.

Un'hee traced the outline of it, the gold-bronzed ink subdued beneath layers of indigo-blue and time. It was a wayfarer's tool. A compass. She raised a brow to him, pushing aside the book and reaching for her datapad.

He eyed the illustration with interest but did not reach out to touch it. “A compass?”

“One word that represents many things,” Un’hee faced straight ahead, but her eyes cast to the side so she could see him in her periphery. “And symbolizes countless others.”

#thranto #eli vanto/thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #eli vanto #un'hee #ezra bridger #my writing #sw fanfiction

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shesthewindandsea · 4 years

Text

if the lord dont forgive me, i’d still have my baby (and my babe would have me)

Summary: It's snowing tonight in Soho. The air is frigid and the ground is wet. Inside a bookshop, there's a demon experiencing the greatest crisis in known human history, but the angel sitting with him thinks he may be able to help.

Beginning Notes: So I’m starting to pick up on a pattern. Seems like whenever I wanna write something this bastard is always at the center of everything and really, what am I gonna do about that? Plug him apparently. @ineffablefool Go read this idiot’s stuff, it’s kind of good I guess I’m totally joking it’s all fantastic but yall should know that by now if you’re here. And!! @scribblemakes go look at all his art right now!!! It’s absolutely fantastic and beautiful and honestly freckled Crowley is one of my favorite things in the world which is why that’s basically what half this fic is about. The other half is just Aziraphale being chubby and getting kisses everywhere. This is literally the softest thing I have ever and will ever write in my entire existence. I have nowhere to go but down.

Oh and the title is from a Hozier song, yeah we’re all really surprised I know. The song is called Work Song and I recommend you listen to this version just because it’s fantastic

Outside the doors of the bookshop, the evening air is still and quiet. Snow is falling silently from the clouds passing slowly in front of the moon. It’s quite a spectacle to all the children watching from their bedroom windows, eyelids heavy and blankets tucked up to their chins. All eyes, though laden with sleep, are ashine with a kind of innocent joy that can only come from a child. They’ll fall asleep thinking about a day off from school spent making snow angels and throwing snowballs and causing a general ruckus as they run in-between strangers on the sidewalk. They’ll certainly be disappointed when the morning comes and the world outside is barren of any snow, the lingering warmth in the stonework from the overcast sun that afternoon melting the snow once it touched the ground. Tears will, no doubt, be shed over the lack of highly anticipated snowman building material. This is, quite possibly, the biggest upset in known human history.

Inside the bookshop, however, a much different story is being told. The cold winter air pushes up from the floorboards, through the gap in the front doors, through the crack in a window frame. Even with the sharp cut of the frigid air filtering into the close quarters of the backroom, it didn’t have the chance to make the room any colder than Aziraphale willed it to be. The space heater glowing with a warm orange light in the corner may have also helped the process along and replaced the silence with a gentle hum and the occasional sputter.*

*Aziraphale had initially started out with an ornate fireplace at the back of the room. He was rather proud of his craftsmanship and was excited to show off his recent update to Crowley once he arrived. That was, until his demon burst through the door with a slam and in a deranged panic, raving about the pungent smell of smoke and wallpaper burning, tears streaming down his cheeks and I couldn’t find you. Aziraphale wasn’t particularly attached to the fireplace, anyhow. A space heater will do the job just as well, dear, no need to fret.

Read on AO3!

The air smells faintly of old parchment paper, book binding glue, and leather. The scent never seems to fade and Crowley suspects Aziraphale has something to do with that as well. Most humans find it somewhat distasteful and often find themselves making a rather startled face upon entering the shop followed immediately by an amusing and unattractive nose crinkle.

That doesn’t always drive them away, though, and Crowley becomes further amused while Aziraphale would get rather frumpy, forming the most ridiculous and petulant pout he’d ever seen. The angel would make sure to use extra binding glue those days, making the smell all the more pungent.

It makes Crowley want to kiss him. So sometimes, he does. He’ll lean over the front of Aziraphale’s workstation, tap the angel on the shoulder, and when he looks up, Crowley will try to snag a kiss from the angel’s lips. Occasionally, he’ll miss and land on his forehead or cheek, but nonetheless, Crowley is satisfied.

Other times he’ll let Aziraphale brood loudly about the shop. He’ll put a little more force into his step and his double chin will become just a bit more pronounced as he tips his head down to keep his glare directed toward the floor. The emotions flicker across his face clearly displaying the war going on inside his angel’s brain, torn between politeness and some drastic steps that would “gently” encourage any potential customers quickly back out the door and onto the street.

You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here and all that. Thank you and have a nice day.

Crowley would lean next to the till and watch, just basking in the presence of his grumpy angel. He used to pretend like he wasn’t watching. Like every minute he spent around Aziraphale wasn’t worth every second of secrecy and denial. His glasses did a lot of that work for him then. But now, things were different and Crowley didn’t want to waste a moment of their time together pretending anything.

Moonlight lurks in the gaps of the shutters and gently attempts to creep across the floor hoping to reach the back of the old, lumpy settee. The moonlight hopes it can linger in the white curls of the angel currently residing there before the demon in his lap notices and gets jealous. Let it never be said that the moonlight is frightened of Crowley’s jealous indignation — though it will admit it’s become quite familiar with being on the receiving side of Crowley’s hissing and it knows well what it’s like to face the demon head on.

The biggest upset in human history inside the bookshop? Well, it’s just that Crowley couldn’t press his face any closer into Aziraphale’s belly. Not without knitting their skin together, fusing cell by cell, permanently pressing his cheek into the grooves of each individual stretch mark kissing the angel’s stomach, thighs, arms.

If only, he laments. If only he could remain here forever, his nose pushing into the available skin between Aziraphale’s waistband and where his shirt has come untucked, waistcoat and coat discarded long ago.

If he could just bask until the end of time in the skin-on-skin contact, the soothing scrape of Aziraphale’s perfectly manicured nails gliding through his hair and along his scalp while the angel’s plush thighs pillow Crowley’s head and neck. He longs to kiss the plump flesh there hidden beneath Aziraphaple’s sensible trousers. In the pitch black of the room, save for the warm glow of the heater and the errant beam of moonlight stretching towards them, (as if he wouldn’t notice it) he can’t imagine moving a single muscle for the next century..

If only.

Rather than linger on this particular tragedy, Crowley focuses his energy on appreciating exactly what he has in front of him right now, which is to say, absolute perfection. Even knowing he really has nowhere left to go, Crowley pushes his nose into the fat of Aziraphale’s stomach, groaning at the all warmth and love stored there. His arms snake tighter around his angel, squeezing. His fingers just barely brush each other behind Aziraphale’s back, forcing him to sit forward just a bit.

Aziraphale makes a noise that Crowley thinks is supposed to be something like annoyance and scolding, but it ends up sounding more fond to him than anything else.

“Really now, dear. Your nose is poking me and it’s quite unpleasant. You’re going to have to release me.” In response, Crowley chooses not to move a single inch and grumbles something low into Aziraphale’s tummy. The angel can’t help but shake with laughter at the sensation. Crowley’s face curls up in an impossibly doting grin and though Aziraphale can’t see the full extent of Crowley’s adoration, he can feel it pressed into his body and somewhere low in his rib cage where he is positively thrumming with unadulterated affection.

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale speaks around his smile. One hand remains in Crowley’s hair while the other skirts over his shoulders and under the collar of his shirt to rest his palm on Crowley’s bare back. He can feel the curve of Crowley’s spine and the way he moves with each inhale and exhale. He can feel Crowley’s heartbeat in his hands.

The demon pulls back just enough to speak.

“I said,” Crowley drawls, “‘S impossible. Can’t move.” Each word comes out a hot puff of air against Aziraphale’s skin and it sends a shiver through his entire body.

“Is that so?”

“Mm. It is. Wouldn’t lie to you, would I, angel?”

“Ah, well,” Aziraphale teases, “wily and cunning serpent that you are, I never know when to trust you.”

“Shall I prove it to you then? I’m more than willing.” Crowley rolls away from Aziraphale’s soft middle just enough to stare up at the angel. His eyes glow like fireflies in the dim light and Aziraphale can imagine being swallowed by them, losing himself there for as long as it takes Crowley to blink. The hand in Crowley’s hair trails down the side of his face, caressing a sharp cheekbone and soothing his thumb over wrinkles in the corner of Crowley’s eye.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aziraphale whispers suddenly. He didn’t mean to say them, those words, but before he could stop and think, they were rushing up his throat, dancing across his tongue, sung from his lips like a prayer. Well, maybe not a prayer. Perhaps more like a song.

That happens sometimes, where he just can’t help himself. Crowley really is the most beautiful being Aziraphale has ever had the fortune to happen upon. And the words just come so naturally. The need to show Crowley how much he loves him, how much he positively adores him, fills him up like a helium balloon.

The guilt consumes him, sometimes, when Crowley isn’t looking, when he isn’t around to remind him. All that wasted time and all the hurt he had caused. He knew and yet everything felt so hopeless. It felt like vines weaving throughout the gaps in his rib cage, his heart and lungs constricted, struggling to beat and inflate.

And then Crowley would be there, standing in front of Aziraphale with hands on shoulders, grounding him, asking if he was alright. Or he’d look up from across the room, abandoning whatever he was distracted with and meet Aziraphale’s eyes. Crowley would always just know from the look in his angel’s eyes, from the tight lines he held in his face.

And then Crowley would just look at him and Aziraphale would look back. And oh the poetry he could wax about everything he sees in Crowley’s eyes. His brilliant, splendid eyes saying the most brilliant and splendid things. I see you and I understand and I love you and perhaps, most importantly, I forgave you a long time ago. It’s okay. You never have to ask.

Crowley’s giving him that look right now, saying all the right things without saying them. His lips twist up in a soft smile that lights up his entire face and Aziraphale feels like he’s about to float away with all the love in his chest lifting him up.

Crowley rolls back onto his side, his face cupped by Aziraphale’s hand as it tenderly traces the edge of his mark. It stays there even as he turns toward Aziraphale’s round, soft belly and pushes the untucked clothing further up Aziraphale’s body. It rests precariously on the shelf of his stomach, exposing him to the musty air of the bookshop and Crowley’s sweeping gaze. His eyes are glazed over, half-lidded leaving Aziraphale waiting with bated breath.

Crowley has made it very clear to Aziraphale how much he appreciates the soft roundness of his angel’s corporation. Always kissing the swell of his cheeks and the folds in his neck, grabbing at his sides and hips. Aziraphale really hadn’t felt any inclinations either which way about the size and shape of his corporation over the last six thousand years or so; though, he had become rather sentimental after having it for so long. The same way one grows attached to a well-loved sweater. But being on the receiving end of all of Crowley’s reverent touches and constant praise certainly helped all those feelings along. And if it made Aziraphale feel more wanted and desirable, well no harm no foul.

Crowley releases his hold from around Aziraphale for a moment to grab hold of the hand covering his face, lacing their fingers together and slotting his bony fingers between the spaces of Aziraphale’s chubbier ones. His lips ghost over the generous give of the angel’s gut, starting from underside up the gentle slope until he reaches the edge of Aziraphale’s rucked up shirt. Then he makes his way across and then diagonal and eventually just anywhere he feels deserves more attention, slowly applying more pressure, lingering longer over each stretch of skin.

“You’re beautiful too, angel, so bloody beautiful. Wish you could see you the way I do,” he hums into Aziraphale’s tummy and sides and chest like he’s trying to tattoo the words there and Aziraphale is so overwhelmed by the brushing of lips against his bare skin that he can’t stop the long groan that escapes him. The urge to tug Crowley up, lose his hands in the long messy curls and just kiss every single freckle painted on the demon’s cheeks and forehead, wrists and knuckles, shoulders and back is overpowering.

“Oh, my darling. My dear sweet boy. My love.” Aziraphale could go on for ages. He’d call Crowley every endearment he’d ever read, heard and wasted time thinking up until he was red in the face. Until the galaxy was swallowed by darkness and the stars went supernova and the universe imploded. Until there was absolutely no question about the depth of Aziraphale’s love for him.

He would if he could, if he thought that they didn’t have time. He’d spend every moment making sure Crowley knew what he felt before they ran out. But that’s not the case. They have forever, infinity times infinity, and so he has the opportunity to take Crowley’s hand and led him into it. He doesn’t need to push him in and hope he knows how to swim.

Maybe he would try anyway if he felt he had any control over the irresistible need, the want, to pull Crowley’s lithe, lean body flush with his own. But as it turns out, Aziraphale is easily tempted and when it comes to his demon, he truly doesn’t have that control. He very quickly finds himself hauling Crowley up off his lap and pressing their bodies so close together that they could create a vacuum.

Their lips slot together and if the whole world didn’t already fall away every second they were together, it would now. All the tiny variations — the nuances of each individual moment, of every individual kiss — spark across the connected skin like neurons firing through the brain. Aziraphale can feel Crowley’s knees knocking into his hips on either side. He can feel Crowley’s eyelashes brushing against the skin just under his eyes. He feels that long skinny nose that poked him in the stomach earlier smushed against his cheek and he hears the sure rhythm of Crowley’s heady breathing echoing in his head.

Both pairs of hands wander — touching and testing patches of naked skin and soothing over wrinkled shirts, clutching handfuls of curls — and lips are soon to follow. Aziraphale keeps the promise he made to himself and thoroughly enjoys pecking at the hundreds of constellations of freckles he’s left behind, his kisses. Each spot overlaid becomes a shade darker, shines brighter against the white background. When he’s gone over every one he can reach, he begins to create new ones — one under Crowley’s chin, in the center of his cupid’s bow, just to the right of his Adam’s Apple — and they bloom like flowers, petals pushing apart and ready to greet the sun.

Crowley waits for Aziraphale to finish indulging himself while happily occupying himself with the skin connecting his angel’s neck to his shoulder — kissing, nipping, soothing over the marks with his tongue, rinse and repeat — by working around and under the collar of his shirt. His hands skirt up outside of his angel’s thighs and creep over his hips in of search the abundant flesh waiting for him at his angel’s waist. Once he feels the lack of clothing separating his hands from Aziraphale, he latches on, squeezing in random intervals. There’s just something so satisfying about the way it crowds his spread palms and fills the emptiness between his fingers. Something that makes him think, Mine. This is finally mine.

“Had your fill of me yet, angel?” Crowley teases lightly as Aziraphale finally sits back and looks Crowley in the eyes. His hands rub up and down Crowley’s back under his shirt.

“Not in a million years, my love.” Aziraphale places a final kiss on the tip of Crowley’s nose. The demon’s face scrunches up a bit in an attempt to cover up an utterly besotted grin, but he can’t quite manage.

“Got a reputation to uphold, you know.” Crowley says very seriously before wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and laying his head against his shoulder.

“I do know. Quite important, this reputation business. Perhaps we ought to refrain from such activities in the future. For the sake of your reputation, of course.” The audible smirk in Aziraphale’s tone is unbearable.

“Bastard. Don’t even joke about that,” Crowley growls, worming his way around his angel’s shirt to carve out his own section of bare shoulder, smacking it with a kiss which makes Aziraphale giggle at the sound and sensation.

“Well, then. I think we ought to head up to bed, don’t you? We’ve done quite enough sitting in the dark. I think I’d rather enjoy a bit of light reading.” Before Crowley can come up with a response, Aziraphale is standing up from the couch and lifting Crowley with him. He decides a contented hum and lazily wrapping his legs around his angel’s hips will do nicely instead.

Aziraphale’s socked feet make a muted thumping noise as he ascends the stairs to the flat above the shop. Soon enough, Aziraphale is using Crowley’s back to push the bedroom door open causing the demon to murmur some mild irritation and vague threat. He’s quite comfortable resting up against Aziraphale as he’s carried around though, much too comfortable to raise a real fuss.

That is, until he’s tossed onto their bed like a sack of potatoes, something like a oof! pushed out of him. He’s left cold on top of the covers while Aziraphale pretends to putter around the room, far too smug for his own good.

And so Crowley remains there, cold and uncovered, purely out of spite.

After changing into his pajamas, (a hideous set of mis-matching tartan, or so Crowley seemed inclined to voice on multiple occasions. Aziraphale finds them both stylish and comfortable) Aziraphale stands at the edge of the bed, tutting at Crowley’s behavior.

“Come now, Crowley. Get changed and budge over.” Crowley fixes him with a glare that lasts all of five seconds before he’s snapping his fingers — clothes changed and eyeliner removed — and rolls over to his side of the bed. He pulls down the covers on his side, flopping down onto his pillow, hair a fiery blaze behind him. Aziraphale does likewise and scoots into his spot, wiggling around to get comfortable. Crowley watches on with unfiltered glee.

He continues to watch his angel closely as he clicks on the lamp beside him and peels back the cover of some hundred-year-old Dickinson collection, his reading glasses having appeared on the bridge of his nose at one point or another. Eventually, Aziraphale looks over at Crowley, feeling his eyes on him.

“Yes, dear?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “I love you with all your moldy books and useless glasses and your ridiculous lovely body. I love all of it.” Aziraphale smiles brilliantly and the room is suddenly much brighter. Crowley could swear celestial light is leaking from Aziraphale’s pores and shining from behind his eyes.

“And I love you with your reckless driving and your useless glasses and your pointy nose, knees and toes, elbows and ankles. I love every last piece of you, mitting.” (This was one of those phrases that Aziraphale had sat on for quite a while before he finally had a chance to put it to use.)

Aziraphale lifts an arm for Crowley and he’s immediately curled up against the angel’s side, arms stretching across the long expansive of the angel’s belly while leaving space for the book to balance against Aziraphale’s chest. Legs twist together hidden beneath the blankets and toes wriggle about in cozy socks. Crowley rubs his leg up against Aziraphale’s, pushing up the pant legs of both their pajama bottoms.

It’s not long before Crowley falls asleep still tucked under Aziraphale’s arm and eventually, the angel decides it would be best to get some sleep himself. He places the book on top of his nightstand, not bothering to mark the page, and miracles the lights out. Gingerly, he moves his arm out from around Crowley and instead, manages to sneak his palm under Crowley’s head while the other arm pulls Crowley in closer, tucking his head beneath Aziraphale’s chin. He allows himself a brief moment of appreciation, brushing his fingertips over the flat plane of Crowley back.

“Until the morning,” he whispers into Crowley’s hair. He finally starts to drift off while watching the shadow of each snowflake tumble across the top of the duvet.

The now silent world within the bookshop remains so until daybreak, the night’s snow a puddle on the sidewalk and the flakes’ shadows replaced with a combination of orange, red, and gold light.

Until a red-headed demon slowly wakes in the early morning light to the soft, vulnerable skin of an angel’s throat pressing into his cheek. He’ll lay there for a long time, basking in the morning light and the happiness he feels in that moment with the knowledge that he’ll have that feeling many, many times in the distant, and not so distant, future.

Then he’ll clamber out of bed, trying not to wake the sleeping angel, to start making breakfast in a dusty, outdated kitchen.

Until the angel will wake to find a vacant spot next to him, still warm. He too will get up from bed, though with far more coordination and less flailing of limbs. He’ll enter the kitchen and wrap his arms around the demon’s waist and inquire as to just what it is the demon is making.

“Nothing good with this kitchen, angel. Some bloody hedonist you are. Can’t even maintain a proper kitchen to make your own food.”

“Now, now, if you’re going to be that way, maybe I’ll just go to dinner without you tonight.” The demon will grumble and mumble but refrains from any further comment. The angel will force the demon to turn his head and offer a kiss as payment for the meal that will no doubt turn out very delicious. He accepts, of course.

Until that night when it starts snowing as the two walk home from dinner, the temperature dropping to temperatures much too cold for a fussy angel and his serpent. So the night ends much the same way it did previously: with the soft glow of the space heater in the corner where there once was a fireplace and curious moonbeams scampering across the floor.

It ends with an angel and a demon so absolutely besides themselves with kindness and hope and love that they forgot what the cold feels like.

#holy shit its almost four im so tired #this was supposed to be short what the hell #also for real go look at freckled crowley by scribblemakes that version of crowley will forever be drilled into me #and you all know how much i love ineffablefool hes the fuckin best dont get me started or ill be here all night #if youre not reading his stuff already i dont know what youre doing honestly #anyway yeah im gonna go to bed ill reblog this whenever i wake up #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #chubby aziraphale #crowley has freckles #ineffable husbands fanfic

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undertaleheadcannonsfromagremlin · 5 years

Text

S/o with birthmark... (Everyone I’ve met with a birthmark is too freaking kind tbh, so obviously gonna have a kindness soul, haha)

Sans (Undertale Sans)- Honestly, his s/o having a birthmark isn’t going to deter him at all, he’s still going to treat them as if they were any other person. If anyone even stares at them for being different, he will more then likely send a glare towards them. No one treats his s/o differently.

Papyrus (Undertale Papyrus)- His s/o is gorgeous with a birthmark! It makes them unique, and he loves how kind they are, and how they always encourage him, as well as his brother! It’s so sweet, and not only that, his s/o gives thoughtful gifts for him and Sans whenever. He always takes time to tell them that they are stunning, that they are beautiful, and that they are perfect, even if it flusters them. Like sure, it sucks that his s/o needs to wear lots of sun screen on their birthmark if they go outside when it’s really sunny, but they love spending time with him, just like he does with them!

Blue (Underswap Sans)- He adores his s/o’s birthmark, they’re so unique with it and oH MY HEAVENS IT CAN CHANGE COLORS, W H A T ? ? ? He loves it even more now! His s/o’s birthmark turns purple when they’re cold/sad and depressed, and their birthmark turns bright red when they’re hot/have a fever/ angry, so it’s easy to tell what they’re feeling even if they are reserved!

Stretch (Underswap Papyrus)- He’s going to be casual about it, it’s intriguing to see that his s/o was different from other humans, but that’s one of the many things that he loves about them. Their difference had made them so kind and modest to others, always trying to make others happy and making sure that they’re not sad. His s/o is considerate, and he loves that about them.

Red (Underfell Sans)- His s/o wasn’t comfortable in their own skin, with even leaving the house without being possibly stared at by a complete stranger because of how they looked. It was a sad sight, that such a bright individual starts thinking so lowly of themselves for something out of their own control. Honestly, his s/o is stunning to him, they’d look beautiful whether they didn’t have a birthmark or if they did. They’d be the most beautiful thing even if there was something wrong with them. He wasn’t going to let his s/o feel down because of how they look, he’s going to make sure to stay close to them and tell them how much he loves them, and how stunning they look.

Boss (Underfell Papyrus)- He’s gonna kick someone’s ass if they say something bad about his s/o to them or in front of him. He’s going to annihilate them. They obviously don’t know perfect when it hit them, his s/o is kind, brave, perseverant, the list goes on and on, but his s/o is just perfect. And if others can’t see that, then they are blind. And they are probably going to have to go to the hospital for how hard he kicked their ass.

Mal (Fellswap Sans)- He’s not going to actually care if his s/o has a birthmark or not, if they did, that just means they’re strong mentally for being able to be prideful in being different, and not only that, the surgeries were the worst, he had actually seen his s/o get surgery, and he may or may not have nearly attacked the doctor when his s/o had actually begun crying from the intense pain. But, they were strong, and they tend to see the best in others around them, even if those people didn’t deserve it. He was going to protect his precious s/o.

Rus (Fellswap Papyrus)- He’s going to say a pick up line... Oh god, help his poor s/o with having to hear his pick up lines that are related to angels because of an old saying a birthmark is an angel’s farewell kiss. His poor s/o is going to be so flustered, but they’ll be happy that someone actually loves them for them.

Sinister (Horrortale Sans)- He actually didn’t notice his s/o’s birthmark at all, and even after a few years of dating them, he didn’t realize until his s/o spoke to him about their insecurities about it, in which he’s floored that he didn’t see it. Though I guess that’s what happens when you become close with someone for their personality and not their looks. He’s obviously going to reassure them, and joke that he’d take away the attention from their birthmark with how he looked.

Paprika (Horrortale Papyrus)- His s/o is adorable, even if they think they aren’t “attractive”, he thinks they’re stunning! He will always tell them that they are beautiful, and he will always know when they need their next surgery, which is frightening because he knows how much pain it causes them! He wishes to take all the pain away!

Ink- His s/o is a work of art, so of course he loves them! They’re so unique, they are so special, and he loves that about them! They are so kind, and patient with those around them, and despite being treated poorly sometimes, they still smile, they still treat others with how they wish to be treated, with kindness. You know, his s/o just gave him a new idea for an au...

Error- He will erase anyone that dares to speak lowly of his s/o. They never chose to be born with a birthmark, why ridicule them for it? They were so kind, they showed him affection and love despite him being anti-social and dangerous. They cared for him, and, well, with Error, you don’t mess with anyone he loves without dying.

Now, this is a note, I wrote this because, well, if you guys didn’t know, I’m a pretty different gal. I have a birthmark on my face that covers about 75% of my face, and ever since I was 2 months old, I’ve had to have surgeries. I’ve been ridiculed, bullied countless times because I was born different, I was constantly put down and I’ve recognized that yeah, I am different, that yeah, I don’t have many friends because of the way I look, but I wanted to do something nice. To do something for those that are different, and hopefully like me in this fandom. I have a Port-Wine Stain, and I love making sure that everyone is not treated as harshly as I have ever been. My friends and family can’t even see my birthmark anymore because they have gotten so used to it, and god, they would literally gut someone if they could if they were ever mean to me... Though I guess it’s a good thing that I look “terrifying” with this birthmark to even have people be mean to me anymore haha. Also, I have never taken a picture willingly since I was 8. Yeah. My looks are what I hate, but what can you do when you have something that makeup can’t even cover (tried covering it once with makeup but it was obvious under makeup... Hahaha, gonna be forever alone... ;-; )

And I apologize that I wrote this, it just felt right writing this, just in case there is someone like me in this fandom. I went a bit too into detail about myself, and I apologize for that as well, but I guess that’s something?

Even if you are born different, there is someone out there that will love you for who you are, now, I highly doubt these words for myself in particular, but for each and every one of you, I know you all will find someone who cherishes you and adores you. Because, well, I do! Your personalities are to die for, and I love them!

My boi Error here will kill someone for treating his s/o so badly, like, how dare they? They are gorgeous, and screw whoever was mean!

#undertale headcanons #underswap #underfell #fellswap #horrortale #sans #papyrus #us sans #us papyrus #uf sans #uf papyrus #fs sans #fs papyrus #ht sans #ht papyrus #ink #error sans #error #ink sans

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ellanainthetardis · 6 years

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Hi, Could you Write a OS Post-mj where Effie has to return in the Capitol, But Haymitch doesn't Want so He fake a Illness or something like that, 'cause He can't Tell her that He will miss her? (I love When they were NOT lovers during the Games, so they Shared Haymitch House, post-Mj Canon-books) I Really love YOUR OS, especially "a confession in the dead of the Night" and "Red Handed" there are so many others that I love Ahha

Here you go! Feedback makes my day! [X]

The Art Of Asking Her To Stay

Effie’s gaze diligently appraised the guestroom, making sure everything was back in the place she had found it. Well… Itwas far much cleaner than she hadfound it, to be honest, but she supposed that was only to be expected. The bedwas made, the curtains were pulled, the furniture was gleaming with a new coatof polish… Satisfied that she had been a good guest – as good a guest as shecould be when she had been imposing for two good months at least – she draggedher heavy suitcase in the corridor.

She left it at the top of the stairs, unwillingto even try to carry it down. Shemade her way to Haymitch’s bedroom instead. The door was half-open and sheknocked but pushed it all the way open without waiting for an answer.

Haymitch was lying on top of the unmade bed,propped against his pillow, a bottle in his hand and a sulk on his face.

“Are you still feeling poorly?” she asked witha small frown. She was used to Haymitch getting sick after a binge but he hadbeen complaining about feeling ill since the previous evening and she wasstarting to get a little worried.

“Feels worse.” he pouted.

His sulk, if possible, only deepened when shewandered closer to place a hand on his forehead.

“I still do not think you have a fever butperhaps we should call a doctor.” she sighed. “I will ask Peeta to come helpwith my luggage and I will see if he can find you one afterwards.”

Twelve was still in a state of disarray despitethe rebuilding and she wouldn’t have known where to call or who to fetch. Twomonths hiding in Haymitch’s house hadn’t helped her make many friends in theDistrict.

“You’re still leaving?” he scowled. “I’m dying and you’re still leaving?”

Her lips twitched. “I highly doubt you are dying. You do not even have a cough.”

“What do you know? You’re a doctor now?” Heglared at her and rolled on his side, very much turning his back on her. “Well,off you go, then, Trinket. Goodbye.”

She frowned a little and carefully sat on theedge of the mattress, a little self-conscious of the dirty tangled sheets. Shehad never minded the dirty sheets when she had sought refuge in his bed in themiddle of the night, terrified sick by the nightmares still plaguing her mind.But those were things they never talked about in the day.

They never talked about anything serious. Theydidn’t talk about why she had come to Twelve in the first place. They didn’ttalk about the rebellion. They didn’t talk about what had happened to her. Theydidn’t talk about the nightmares. They didn’t talk about falling asleep curledup together when she had night terrors happened. They didn’t talk aboutanything that wasn’t the children, the weather or his inability to keep a houseclean.

“Do not be like that.” she chided without muchheat, placing a hand on his shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his skinthrough the thin cotton of his shirt.

“What am I supposed to be like?” he scoffed.“You know, it hasn’t always been funhaving you around for so long. You’re a pain in the ass. And now you’re gonnaleave the day I fall sick? Bit rude, that, sweetheart.”

“I am well aware of your feelings for me,Haymitch.” she replied. “And I am well aware I imposed too long on yourhospitality. It is why I am leaving…”

“Bullshit.”he spat. “Didn’t say I wanted you to go, did I?”

He had just done so, as a matter of fact, but,as always with Haymitch, she sensed there was more at work there. He neverseemed to be able to say what neededto be said when it came to feelings. “Haymitch… Are you pretending to be ill soI will stay a few more days?”

“Full of yourself, ain’t you?” he scowled. “I’m ill. I’ve got a headache. And myheart’s feeling funny too. See? I’m gonna have a heart attack while you’re inyour train and you’re gonna feel verysorry once I’m dead.”

“To be sure.” She fought a smile and firmlypushed on his shoulder until he rolled on his back so she could see hisface. “Do you want me to stay a few moredays?”

He stubbornly kept his eyes riveted somewhereabove her right shoulder. “Don’t see why you have to go at all.”

That, she hadn’t seen coming and itshocked her a little. She had lingered in Twelve longer than she had originallyplanned, true. Mostly because she felt safe with Haymitch and the children andthe Capitol had become a harsh place to live in nowadays. But she had nevermeant to… make the move permanent.

“Move to Twelve?” she clarified, licking herlips. And why not? What else was there for her in the city but bad memories,ghosts and difficulties? If she stayed in Twelve, she would see the childrenevery day. She would be with her team… The more she thought about it, the moreshe liked the idea. “I will need a house…”

“Why?” he grumbled. “What’s wrong with mine?There’s space… You don’t like your room, you could always move into mine.” Hesnorted. “God knows you sleep in it often enough as it is…” He made a face andthen hastily sat up, loosely coiling his fingers around her wrist. “Not thatyou have to. I mean we haven’t even…Look…”

“Oh.”she blurted out because she was finally startingto get a clear picture. A bright smile stretched her lips. “You want us tostart a relationship.”

There had been kisses over the years. Hastyaggressive angry kisses that they had never talked about. And, lately, stolenones, in the dead of night, they hadn’t mentioned either.

She hadn’t thought he meant anything by itbecause he had never really tried to get more from her.

“Relationship?” he sputtered, going a bitwhite. “No, that’s not… Well… Shit,sweetheart, why do you have to make everything complicated? Just stay. We do itlike we’ve been doing. Maybe you just… Come to bed with me from the startsometimes… See where that leads up.”

She had a good idea of where that would lead toand she wasn’t against it.

“I might be amendable to that if you changeyour sheets.” she hummed, standing up and sauntering out of his bedroom with awink.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“Why, to unpack, obviously!” she answered with a laugh. “We wouldn’t want my clothesto crease , would we?”

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #post mj #book!verse #not established #hurt comfort #haymitch with feelings #funny one

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thefuriousstarlightstudent · 5 years

Text

So I’m stretching my wings and writing something for the Avengers Movie/Young Avengers Comics featuring Loki! I’ve fallen in love with his Kid Loki appearances in the comics, and so I want to find a way to fix what happened to him with Ikol, kinda. Anywho, here’s the story and a link at the end. Just remove the space in the link after copy/pasting it to get there. :)

“Well, that was rather unexpected.”

“Who are you?” Nick Fury demanded. A much younger Nick Fury than Loki was used to dealing with. One who was simply holding a loaded gun to his head instead of firing it. “How did you get here?”

Loki held his hands up in the air and smiled innocently, wide eyes and loose posture to add to the overall effect of making him seem harmless. It probably didn’t work fully on Nick Fury or any of the agents surrounding him, but it helped. Especially since none of them seemed to know who he was.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to appear here,” Loki said, waggling his fingers. “Do you perhaps know anyone skilled in the art of magic who may be able to help me return home?”

Nick Fury’s eyebrows rose so high on his forehead that if he had hair they would have been hidden beneath it. His gun stayed aimed at Loki’s head.

“I repeat, who are you and how did you get here?”

Loki considered the best way to answer. He spun and took a glance around the whole room, filled with over ten agents and many computers. If he wasn’t mistaken, they were in the Helicarrier. The other agents were all aiming weapons at him as well, including Maria Hill. It seemed fighting his way out and finding his way home on his own was out. While he had no doubt he could beat Maria Hill, he had no desire to spend the time fixing any injuries the skilled agent would no doubt be able to give him. She was a… formidable opponents.

“My name is Loki Odinson,” he said finally, looking back to Nick Fury. “And I seem to have accidentally traveled from my dimension to yours. If possible, help returning home would be lovely.”

They did not lower their weapons, not that he expected them to. In fact, they seemed more on edge before. So they must have met this dimension’s version of him then. Most likely they just hadn't recognized him as a child.

“Loki Odinson is currently in Germany facing off against the Avengers. We have eyes on him. Try again,” Nick Fury demanded.

“Well, I did mention being from a different dimension, did I not?” Loki asked rhetorically. “I traveled across the barrier between universes and ended up here instead of in my own universe.”

“I’m afraid that doesn’t quite cut it,” Nick Fury said curtly. “Move.”

Loki was obviously meant to be threatened by the gun and go into the hallway, inevitably ending up in a cell. However, that wasn’t going to help him get home whatsoever. He couldn’t afford to spend time in a cell waiting until they were convinced to send him home, not without putting his plans back home in jeopardy.

“Look,” Loki snapped. “I don’t have time for any of this. People are in danger back home and I’m the only one who can stop it. I would very much not like my world to end, Fury. If you can’t help me, I’ll just find someone else who can. Good day.”

And then, quite suddenly, Loki felt something cold and metal hit the back of his neck. Before he quite knew what was happening, electricity shocked him, arcing through his body, making his vision swim and his mouth taste like copper.

***

“Wake up,” a voice demanded coldly. “Now.”

Loki groaned and blinked slowly.

“Ow, that smarts,” he managed to say through the pain in his mouth. It still tasted like copper. “I rather dislike getting electrocuted.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have appeared in a room full of highly trained agents with weapons capable of injuring you,” the voice said snidely.

Loki sat up and glared at the ghostly figure in the room. “No one asked you.”

“Well, I’m here anyway, aren’t I? And whose fault is that? You’re the one who killed me, after all.”

“Shut up,” Loki commanded. “I don’t have time to deal with you.”

“Hey, I don’t just appear,” his previous self argued, holding up his hands. “I’m your guilty conscious.”

“Well go away then. I don’t want to deal with you right now. I need to get home.”

“Why, so you can betray your friends?”

“They’re not my friends,” Loki scoffed. “They are a means to an end. That’s it.”

“If you say so,” his previous self said dubiously.

With that he disappeared, leaving Loki alone in the cell, for it was obviously a cell. Loki had none of his knives on him anymore. Which also meant he had none of his lock picks that were attached to the knives. He didn’t want to use magic yet and give away his hand. So the best option was probably staying put and waiting for someone to come and interrogate him.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. Probably only a few hours at the most before an unnamed agent came to fetch him, cuffing his wrists and leading him to an empty interrogation room. Loki took a seat on the chair facing the mirror, which obviously had people behind it watching him, most likely the Avengers. Fury had mentioned them earlier.

The agent left and a moment later Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, entered.

“Ah, hello, Ms. Romanoff,” Loki said brightly. “Lovely to see you.”

“You as well,” she replied cooly, not at all bothered by the fact that he knew her name. “And what might your name be?”

“Loki Odinson, but you already knew that, so perhaps we could skip the pleasantries and instead get down to business,” he said quickly. “I am from a different dimension, one that is in danger. I would like to return there as quickly as possible.”

“I’m afraid we can’t just let you go, but you know that, don’t you?” Loki didn’t bother answering such an obviously rhetorical question. “First we have to confirm you mean no harm, who you actually are, and then if you’re telling the truth about being from a different dimension.”

“As I expected. Can you simply ask Scarlet Witch, perhaps? She’s quite good at telling if someone is telling the truth or not and would be able to confirm my story about being from a different dimension,” Loki offered.

“I’m afraid we don’t have her on hand at the moment,” Black Widow said.

“So you don’t know her in this universe yet, that or she doesn’t exist,” Loki confirmed. “I suspected so, otherwise Fury would have called her at the first sign of someone coming from a different dimension.”

“You are very smart,” she observed, sitting down across from him, posture relaxed. Loki didn’t fall for it. She was still one of the deadliest people he would ever meet, in this dimension or his own.

“I should think so; I am quite a few years older than you,” he said.

“And how old are you, Mr. Odinson?” she asked.

“In human terms of biology or chronology?” he asked cheekily.

“Let’s start with biologically,” she said dryly.

“Then I am somewhere around thirteen, I believe. You know how it is,” he added. “It’s hard to keep track after so many years.”

“Who were you talking to?” she asked. “After you woke up.”

Loki froze and felt the blood drain from his face. But it wouldn’t do to give anything away and he was a liesmith after all. A silvertongue. A trickster.

“I believe I would like to continue this conversation at a different time. Is my brother here?”

She looked at him curiously, but let it go. He had no doubt that it would come up later, but that was for later, not now. Now was the time to find Thor. He would be much easier to manipulate than the others here. And he would help to convince them to let him go.

“Thor, yes?” she asked. Loki nodded once. “He’s here. He hasn’t been made aware of the situation regarding you yet. I’ll send someone for him and he can confirm your claims.”

“That would be wonderful,” Loki agreed.

She left the room, closing the door gently. Loki kept his hands in the cuffs, though he knew they would be simple to break or open with magic. Better to let them think he was a compliant child rather than a rule-breaking oaf like his brother.

“Too afraid to let anyone know what you did to me?” his previous self asked viciously. “Is it because you know that once you tell them you killed me and took over my body they won’t be nearly as kind, Thor won’t be kind?”

“Shut up,” Loki muttered, careful to keep his face away from the camera and mirror and his voice quiet enough to not be picked up by the microphones throughout the interrogation room.

“Do I make you uncomfortable? Who’s fault is that?”

“You’re not real. You only exist in my head,” Loki whispered, closing his eyes to avoid seeing the ghostly figure.

“Or am I? You create things out of nothing. How do you know I’m not one of those things? Or that deep down you need me to keep you sane and that’s why you made me?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Loki repeated, still mindful of getting caught.

“If you insist,” his previous self said. “Thor’s here anyway. I’m sure seeing him will make you feel bad too. It’ll be the first time you’ve seen him since you killed me, won’t it?”

“Shut up,” Loki said, one last time. He opened his eyes and his previous self was gone, leaving him alone once again.

A moment later the door to the cell opened, revealing Black Widow and his brother, Thor. And while this wasn’t his brother, this younger and more innocent Thor, he was still Thor, who no matter what version would always be Loki’s older brother, a pain in his side older brother.

“Loki!?” Thor exclaimed, looking stricken. “But… you are locked in a cell. You wouldn’t be capable of magic from this far away with your powers hampered like that.”

“Hello, brother,” Loki said carefully, using the wide smile his previous self had used so often when seeing Thor. “I believe I have much to tell you.”

“How can this be?” Thor murmured, slumping into the seat across from Loki.

“He claims to be from a different dimension,” Black Widow explained.

“Another universe?” Thor repeated. “Where you are but a child.”

“I’m not a child,” Loki snapped, feeling an annoyance coming from somewhere, though he wasn’t sure where.

“Is that so?” Thor asked. “I doubt it.”

“I am not, Thor,” he snarled.

“Well, whatever you say, it is good to see you like this, young and carefree again,” Thor said. “Innocent.”

“I am far from innocent, Thor,” Loki laughed.

“But aren’t we all?”

“You are more philosophical than I am used to. What did father use to beat some common sense into your head here?”

“I have my moments, rare they may be,” Thor replied. “Now, what is your story, brother?”

“It is a long one, brother. One I am sure you will be quite bored by. Suffice it to say that in an attempt to save the world from a monster a… friend let loose, I have accidentally brought myself here,” Loki said. “To this world which my alternate self appears to want to take over.” Loki wrinkled his nose. “Though I can’t imagine why. Midgard is quite an annoying place to deal with most times. I myself would never want to rule it.”

“I am not sure why Loki has chosen to either,” Thor sighed. “He is hurt, after finding out a lie our father told the both of us.”

“You mean about being a half-giant?” Loki asked. “Half-Frost Giant, I suppose is the proper terminology.”

“You know?” Thor asked, truly looking shocked.

“Of course I do,” Loki replied.

“I hate to interrupt whatever you two have going on here, but Thor, can you confirm this is Loki and that he is telling the truth about being from an alternate dimension?” Black Widow asked sharply.

“Of course I can,” Thor said. “Loki could not cast such a complex spell while being restrained, and if you tell me right, from the distance he was when the boy first appeared. Other dimensions exist, though I can’t claim much knowledge of them. You may be better off to seek a Midgardian scientist who knows more about it in order to send him home.”

“I’ll tell Fury. Thor, you watch him until he’s free.”

Thor nodded firmly.

“Now brother, tell me about your world. You recognized me, so I must not look too different. Were you born later than in this world? Is that why you are so young and yet unsurprised by the mortals?” Thor asked eagerly.

“Something like that,” Loki agreed, unsure why. It wasn’t like he couldn’t tell the truth. He would never see this Thor again. But something kept him from describing the murder of his previous self and the actions he made before his reincarnation. He wasn’t ashamed of them, but telling Thor would only hinder getting home.

That was what he told himself, at least. He ignored the little voice that whispered of his guilt.

“And do you like your friends? Are they kind?” Thor asked.

“They are mortals,” Loki said. “One of them is a girl who dislikes me very much; I believe she wishes to kill me, though I am not sure why. She also comes from a different dimension. Another is an alien prince. Two of them are twins, one with great gifts in magic and another with speed not even and Asgardian possesses. Another is a young woman who shoots the bow with deadly accuracy. The last is an alien named Noh-Varr.”

“Are you sure the girl doesn’t like you?” Thor teased.

Loki shuddered. “I most certainly hope not! She is disgusting. And also lesbian, I am guessing, though she hasn’t said anything to me.”

Loki was saved from having to say anything more by the timely arrival of Black Widow.

“You’re free to go, kid, but stay nearby me, got it?” she asked menacingly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Loki said, giving her a loose salute and winking.

She led them through hallways that all looked the same and past agents who also were fairly indistinguishable from one another.

“May I have my knives back?” Loki asked.

“No.”

“I’ll need them before going home.”

“No.”

“What if I-”

“If you ask again you’re going back in a cell. No. Knives.”

“Fine,” Loki muttered. “May I have food then? With ketchup?”

“Ketchup?” she asked, sounding amused. In fact, Loki was fairly sure she was laughing at him.

“It is a most wonderous condiment,” Loki said seriously.

“I’m sure we can find something for you,” she said. “In here.”

Loki stepped in front of her and entered what was quite obviously a lab. In it were others he recognized. Iron Man, Captain America, and the Hulk.

“Who’s the mini-Loki?” Iron Man asked warily, yet somehow still sounding completely casual, as if he dealt with people from other dimensions daily. Then again, for all Loki knew of this world, he might.

“This is Loki,” Black Widow said. Loki watched them, feeling amusement bubble at how they tensed. “He’s from another dimension. He’s thirteen and is trying to save his world, which is how he got here.”

“Well, that’s unexpected,” Iron Man finally said.

https://archiveofourown. org/works/17250128

#fanfic #my writing #writing #avengers #loki #kid loki #thor #alternate dimensions #ao3 link #ao3fic

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oohashirei · 6 years

Text

The Girl In The Train

Yay for Modern Day AU! The names came from the great @lunchtimerushin ! (I recommend you check their art but it's not for the faint of heart theyrevrybeautiful

Chapter 1: Strange People, Stranger Feelings

It wasn’t the first time.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened to her, it was almost a natural occurrence, actually. Standing in the train, a hand up to hold a pole, when it would suddenly just stop and send her off her footing, dropping to the ground.

It wasn’t the first time that she had been stuck in commute. It was actually the third.

“Again? This week?” She heard a murmur from her right, “Isn’t this the third time this week?”

She’d only ridden the train to Nishi-Funabashi three times.

She placed the earbud back in her right ear and tried to stand, only when she did, the train moved then stopped abruptly.

She readied herself for the fall, probably with a bruise this time, but it never came.

All she felt was something holding her up from her arms and a hard but warm object pressed against her face.

“Are you alright?”

She nearly jumped when the object vibrated and she heard a deep voice of a man despite the music going on.

“Ah! I’m so sorry!” She pulled away from the object and looked up, only to see a man with his right eye covered but his left staring back at hers, “I didn’t mean to fall for you-, I mean, fall on you.”

She removed her earbuds, but she really just wanted to act like nothing ever happened. It wasn’t like it was embarrassing to fall over to a man’s torso at a packed transit filled with complete strangers. Nope, definitely not.

“It’s okay,” the man responded, “But are you okay?”

She nodded despite the sting that she was feeling on her knee, “Yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. It’s not hurting much.”

“Are you sure though? You have a scrape wound on your knee,” he pointed out, “Do you want me to find you a seat?”

“No, no, it’s fine! I can stand. Really,” she declined, “But thank you for the concern,” she muttered out the last part.

He nodded without another word.

A brown headed child sitting in front of her rummaged through her bag and pulled out a square band-aid with a pink checkered pattern and a happy face drawn on it. The child stood and reached it out for her.

“This makes me feel better when I get a wound,” the child said with a sweet smile, “I hope you feel better soon.”

She smiled weakly at the child, thanking her for her generosity.

She peeled off the paper keeping the adhesive from sticking together and stretched her right leg just a little bit. The man grabbed the band-aid from her hand and knelt down, putting the band-aid on her injured knee.

“You should clean this up when you get home,” he advised, “It’s not good for wounds to be open and unclean.”

She wanted to scream.

What was he doing? Why was he so nice? Was this his natural self? Was he naturally so kind? But to strangers? It was odd, very odd, for someone to go out of their way to help some klutz stranger. They didn’t even know each other’s names for Pete’s sake! So… why?

She took a deep breath and held on to it. It wasn’t everyday that strangers were so kind to her. He was too kind though…

The man got up and stood next to her, completely unaware of the tons of questions she was screaming in her mind.

The train slowly started moving again and she quickly looked around to see if there were any poles nearby that she could hold on to (the one that she previously held on to was so far now with all the falls she had). With nothing nearby, she held onto the hope that she wouldn’t fall again.

“Highly unlikely.”

She felt a hand grab her wrist before it was pulled up to hold something. She looked up to her left and saw that the man had placed her hand on his arm which was holding on to the railings above. She blushed furiously at the sight.

“What is… what’s this guy doing?!”

She looked away and bit her lip, face turning as red as the jacket she wore.

“Please don’t let it be obvious. Please don’t let it be obvious. Please don’t let it be-.”

“Are you sick?” The man asked, “You’re turning a bit red. Are you getting hot because there’s so many people in here?”

“N-n-no,” she muttered, “I’m fine.”

There were no more words. When the train finally came to a halt at her stop, she brought her hand down, and faced the man.

“Th-thank you,” she told him, “For helping me. And catching me. And putting on this band-aid. And being my pole to hold on to.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied then turned around.

“Will I ever see you again?” She blurted out before she could think about asking it.

“What did I just say?!”

He turned around, a curious look on his face.

“I-I mean, it just… do you think we’d see each… other… around…?” She repeated like it wasn’t the most humiliating thing she had ever done.

“Well…” he started, “This city’s big.”

She frowned a bit at the response. She shouldn’t even be though. He was just another person at the train.

“But I guess we live in the same place so we’ll see each other someday,” he continued.

“Oi! Iishiro!” Another man called from behind him, “We gotta go!”

The man nodded at the other before leaving her on her own, still standing inside the mix of crowd.

The doors of the train closed as soon as he had walked out, her eyes still trained at his back.

“Please turn around. Please look at me again. Please. One more time.”

He turned back around and their eyes met for one more second before she snapped out of the stupor, breaking eye contact.

The train moved once more and an announcement that they were headed to the next stop was heard.

She held a breath that she didn’t know then peered outside again, seeing the signs outside.

Signs welcoming people to Nishi-Funabashi.

“Nishi-Funabashi!” She shouted, “This is my stop! This is my stop!”

•••

After all the convincing she did to almost every staff in the train and apologies to all the people, she was allowed to go off the train and not miss her stop. She sighed deeply then started walking away from the tracks when she was called.

“Reimi!” A brunette looking a few years older than her called, a wide smile on her face, “Reimi over here!”

She grinned wide and ran over to the woman calling her, “Eiko! I missed you so much! It’s nice to see you here.”

“I was waiting for someone and then I saw you,” Eiko answered, “Are you getting the hang of the job?”

She nodded, “I really really love this job. Thanks for referring me.”

“Let me see the letter,” Eiko said, reaching out her hand.

Reimi pulled out a white envelope from her duffel bag and handed it to Eiko. Once the brunette saw it, she frowned.

“You…” Eiko started, “You’re off by one station. This letter’s for Fuchūhommachi.”

“What?!” Reimi snatched the letter from her friend’s hand, reading the text on it, “B-but it says-.”

“Fuchūhommachi is a nearer stop than this one. You have to go around just so you can deliver this,” Eiko replied.

Reimi groaned in frustration, looking back at the empty tracks, “I knew it! It was going too well.”

Eiko patted Reimi at the back, “It’s okay. I was once like that too. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“I only have a few things that I have to deliver and yet I can’t even do it right,” Reimi pointed out.

“But you will. Somehow.” Eiko gave the girl a smile, “You always do. I trust you with that. Cheer up, Reimi. You’re still doing good.”

Reimi sighed again before giving back a small smile, “Well I better get going. Have to deliver this today. Thanks, Eiko.”

•••

“So what was that?”

“What was what?” Iishiro turned to the younger man.

“Don’t act like you don’t know. The girl in the train,” the man replied.

“Who?” Iishiro asked.

“The cute girl with the red hair and the red jacket! Don’t act like it happened last decade,” the man replied.

“I was just being helpful, Haku,” Iishiro responded, “Can’t I be nice?”

“Okay.” Haku chuckled, “First of all, you’re not nice.”

This earned the younger man a glare, “I am nice.”

Haku rolled his eyes, “Second, you don’t just talk to anybody. You’re… it was really odd.”

“Reimi!”

The two men turned to their right and saw the girl from the train with the red jacket.

“Reimi over here!”

“So her name’s Reimi,” Iishiro muttered.

“So her name’s Reimi,” Haku imitated with a teasing tone, “You’re interested in her.”

Iishiro turned around then continued walking, “No I’m not.”

“Oooof course you aren’t.” Haku smirked, following Iishiro, “I feel so honored to be the first one to see you like this.”

“Like what?” Iishiro asked.

“To see you so in love,” Haku teased.

“In love? With who?” Iishiro questioned.

“The girl!” Haku replied.

“Which girl? I saw a lot of girls today,” Iishiro responded.

“Reimi! The cute Reimi whom you met at the train! The one that fell over and you helped her and you patched up her wound,” Haku explained.

“Oh, Reimi,” Iishiro paused, “What about her?”

Haku groaned in frustration, staying silent instead.

#hataraku saibou #eyyy first multi-chapter fic for an anime #red/white #modern day au!#their real jobs will be revealed soon #also this is sort of slow burn because it's neutrophil wdu expect #and some angst bc it me #chapter 2 will hopefully be up by august 4th #or 5th whenever im free #i just!!! love neutrocyte so much!!!

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albedosoyna · 6 years

Note

46! Let's get a sneak peek at Soy's fic workshop! ^^

Well, here is a chapter of unpublished story. This is FFVII

Tease: RevivalConversations

Fandom: FFVIICharacters: Reno, Rod, Cloud (and mentions of others)Rating: M Content: Unrequented love.Pairing: Onsided Reno and Cloud.—-

Rod was nervously tapping his hands against the steeringwheel of the car and staring out the windshield, and not being a very good lookout. Reno jumped in the air-conditionedcar and hit Rod in the side with his EMR.

“The fuck ya doin’? Quit lookin’ at the babes! Yaare supposed ta be watchin’ my back when I did the drop.” Reno poked Rod again as he tossed thebriefcase in the back seat. Rod yelpedand he gripped his side.

“I’m not looking at chicks!” Rod quickly defended. “I’m looking at that nice bike overthere. I was contemplating taking it fora ride.”

Reno rolled his eyes as he adjusted the package in theback seat. Rod was known for hisinfatuation with motorbikes. It was howhe got into Shin-Ra, and he still had issues with going for joyrides on bikesthat caused him to drool. Reno got thepleasure of knocking some sense into Rod before Tseng asked him to join up.

“It’s so sweet,” Rod crooned and chewed his lip, “Allthat black and gold. I bet it has anitro switch. The engine on that issurely custom and it can drive backwards as fast as it can drive forwards. Oh man, look at the curves on that bumper.” Rod made a groan that made Reno slap theyounger man in the back of the head.

“You own twenty bikes already, ya moron,” Reno said as hecrawled into the front seat and looked to where Rod was looking. The bike was really familiar, even at thisdistance. It was sitting in front of abookstore, and he could see the back end of it. It looked highly customized from what he could see. It probably belonged to some rich kid thathad too much time on his hands.

“Can never have enough bikes, man,” Rod exclaimed. “Can you go talk to the guy and convince himto let me ride it so I don’t have to borrowit?”

“Quit being a moron. Why would ya think that I can talk to him and convince him to let youride it, yo?” Reno said as he sank into his seat. He was enjoying the feel of the airconditioning on his hot skin. There weredays that he wished that he didn’t have to wear the suit, especially in themiddle of a heat wave.

“Well, it’s that Strife dude’s bike, right? You know him from way back, right? So you can talk to him and convince him tolet me drive it around the block a couple times.” Rod hands were wringing the steering wheeland he was leaning forward in the driver’s seat. “Dude, I bet that ride goes real fast.”

~Cloud~

Focusing on the bike, he saw Cloud walking out of abuilding with a clipboard in his hand. The red head’s heart skipped a few beats at the sight of the blondman. Swallowing hard and leaning forwardhe examined how wonderful he looked as he absently leaned against his bike.

He had not seen Cloud since that day on the bridge whenhe had zoomed past him on that high-tech bike that the blond was now leaningagainst. He looked great. Cloud was wearing his usual bike gear; looseleather pants and belts, his sweater vest that was unzipped and showed hischest and bare arms, a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his soft-looking blondspikes. Those amazing bright blue eyeswere focused on the paper that was in his hand. Reno could hardly breathe as he watched him stretch, stuff the clipboardin a compartment on the back of the bike and gracefully straddle themachine. His graceful, lean body twistedand reached forward toward the handles. The leather pants stretched with him, and it showed Reno a well-defined bottomthat was the definition of perfection. He continued to watch as Cloud moved back on the seat before pulling hisphone out of his pocket. He talked towhoever was on the other end and smiled.

Reno missed that damn beautiful smile. It was gorgeous and made him miss Cloud allthe more. The blond ran his gloved handthrough his hair and looked at the sky for a moment as he continued to talk onthe phone. The redhead wondered what hewas saying and who he was talking to. Itwas nice to see him looking relaxed as he leaned back on the motorcycle as ifhe was a model posing for a biker magazine.

Cloud was never one to realize how he looked to otherpeople. He was oblivious as always tothe looks from the women who walked by him, nearly causing one to walk into apole when he stretched his back and continued to talk into the phone. There were even a few guys who were givinghim appreciative looks. He was a hero,through and through, like how Reno knew that he was going to become, even wayback then.

The blond led the group that saved the world; he was areluctant hero, but still a hero. Renolet out a sigh as the blond tilted his head as the clipboard appeared in hishand again and he began writing things down. There was still a wonderful smile upon his face.

“Hello!” Fingerssnapped in front of his face, forcing him to focus back on the person that wasin the car with him. He frowned andpushed at Rod.

“What the fuck is that about, yo?” Reno snapped.

“You went into la-la land, dude,” Rod said with achuckle. “What? Do you have the hots for him or something?”

Reno glared at him. “Shut up, ya dork.” He lookedback over to Cloud, who was taking a new position on his bike as he was puttinghis sunglasses over his eyes.

Cloud was leaning over, checking something inside in oneof the compartments. There was nothingwrong with that pose at all. The blond’sshirt pulled up slightly, and a slip of his skin could be seen as well as the pullof his lean and strong muscle that was normally hidden from view as the shirttightened.

“You have it bad, man.”

Glaring at Rod, he thought about sparking the EMR intohis side. Rod was really pissing himoff, and it would be worth a couple of night shifts, but he didn’t want to blowthe car’s starter. “Drop it, dweeb.”

“Sure, whatever,” Rod said with a chuckle as he leanedback in the seat. “So, did the job gowell?”

Reno nodded. “Yawould’ve known if ya had been payin’ attention like ya were supposed to. Were ya even listenin’ to me, rookie?”

“I’m not a rookie anymore, Reno.” Rod ran his hands through his hair and laidhis head against the back of the seat. “I know what I’m doing, dude. Those guys were bit players, and they weren’t going to cause you anyproblems. You knew that. You didn’t need to bring me along to beginwith.”

Reno wanted to do this job alone, but he wasn’t given achoice of the matter, being still on light duty and all. Tseng didn’t want him to be without a partnerof any sort on any mission — low risk or not — until the boss-man decided thathe was cleared for duty. He wasn’tcertain what that meant and when he asked the old stick-in-the-mud Wutaian hadsaid it meant what it meant.

Normally, he would be on duty with Rude, but he wasn’t onany mission that was far from Costa Del Sol at the moment, as Cissnei was aboutto pop any day now. He hoped that thekid would hurry up and crawl out of her already. She was super bitchy about how swollen herbelly, ankles, wrists were, and complained about the heat in the house — evenwith the air-conditioning on full blast. Also, there was the matter of her clothing and food choices; oversizedgrey sweatpants, and noodles mixed with pickles would be things that he couldwish he could forget.

Having a screaming baby around the house was not his ideaof a wonderful situation, but it would be better than dealing with a whiny,grumpy Turk that had access to a gun, who also knew how to use martial arts andthrow a knife.

“Yeah, yeah. Easyas pie, yo, but ya should still do your job, dipstick.” Reno looked over to see Cloud stretching andwalking away from his bike and heading toward a restaurant with one hand hookedin a pocket and the other hand swinging lazily at his side.

The name of the pub that Cloud disappeared into wascalled, ‘Goblin’s Shadow’. Reno’s mindwas a swirl of thoughts of the past. Allhis happy moments that they had together were mixed with the grief of havingTseng tell him that they had both died on the mission back to Nibelheim. The brief moment of hope quickly disappearedwhen he heard they were alive and tried to find them, to find the remains ofZack on a cliff’s edge. At that moment,he had been more concerned about the asshole that had stolen Zack’s sword.

He didn’t expect to see Cloud at the church, talking tothe flower girl in the slums. He waseven more stunned to see him holding Zack’s sword as he defended her.

Cloud was different than when he last saw him, but it wasstill him. He stood strong and in afighting stance with Zack’s sword drawn to protect the woman behind him. When Reno asked the question if he knew hewas, trying to be confident as he bounced the EMR on his shoulder. He didn’t expect the harsh answer to rip hisheart out. It hurt like hell. The lack of recognition in his former lover’sbright SOLDIER-like eyes and the coldness in his tone that made him feel likehe had lost the people he loved all over again.

It was pain that he had to push back and lock away so hecould continue on and do his job. He hadto get Aerith and bring her back to the fold of Shin-Ra. There was also a slim hope that he couldbring back Cloud and make him remember who he was and … what they had oncebeen.

Things did not turn out like they had planned throughoutthe whole adventure.

He was over-thinking of a way to talk to Cloud, and woundup drowning his sorrows in booze and bad company. Having tried to show Cloud he wasn’t that badof a guy in Wutai, and let him walk when they were in the bar. He knew he was acting like a jerk to them allas they rescued Elena and Yuffie from the clutches of the Don. Sake and sorrow did not mix well and hardlyset him in a good light in this version of Cloud.

There was a small moment between them when he could havesworn that Cloud gave him a look, and almost a smile, but it was brief and toolittle for anything else to happen. Itwas disappointing when the reluctant hero went on his own way, back on hisquest to save the world, and Reno had to go back on his, which was to stopthem. He was Reno the Turk, and he hadto move on and do his job.

Now, he was sober and everything was different than backthen. There was a slim chance that hecould be something more again; it was slim because the blond still didn’tremember him. If he had a chance, hewould show Cloud that he was more than a jackass Turk, and that he could be theman that he was when they were together … when they were happy together. They could talk about things that didn’tinvolve saving the world, swords, guns, or explosions, but maybe on how theyboth had moved forward. He also wonderedwhy the hell Cloud was a delivery boy and not taking up Reeve on the job offersthat were constantly thrown at him.

For once, he was going to take Rude’s advice and try totalk to him. Cloud didn’t need to joinShin-Ra or the WRO for them to talk to each other, or hopefully have arelationship.

It would not be the same as it was before, and he shouldnot expect that and had to put that aside The silly councillor had told him that as well as pretty much everyoneelse that he had talked too. Rude evenmade him admit that his counselor who was helping him at one point. It had helped to have someone that wasn’tgoing to judge him when he talked about something.

~They could startover~

It was risky and there was a pretty big chance that Cloudmay never remember that part of his life, as it may have been so far repressedto keep himself from going mad and losing his mind. But it was a chance Reno was willing to take… for a chance to have a bit of happiness that he had before.

Reno straightened his jacket and took a quick look in thevisor mirror to make sure that he was presentable. Cissnei was in her nesting phase and wasfuriously ironing everything in the house, and that included all his shirts,suits and socks.

He had never looked better as a Turk since she starteddoing his laundry. The meeting he hadjust finished hadn’t wilted him and he figured that it was like a sign thatthis was the day that his life was going to change.

Hopefully.

“I’m gonna go talk ta Cloud,” Reno said abruptly as heworked on the cuffs of his jacket. Hefrantically tried to think about what he was going to say to him. How was he going to approach him? How was he going to break the ice?

“Really!?” Rodsaid and bounced in his seat. “Do youthink he would let me ride his bike?”

Reno glared at him. “He’s not gonna let ya touch his bike, jerk wad. Take the briefcase back to Tseng. I’ll take a ferry back to Costa bymyself. I got some other things to talkto Cloud ‘bout, yo.”

“What?” Rod had adisappointed look on his face and frowned. “No way. I’m not supposed toleave you alone, dude.”

“I’m a grown man, yo. I can go talk to Cloud without a babysitter,” Reno said as he opened thedoor, and Rod reached over to grab his arm. “Fuck, Rod. I’m not gonna doanythin’ stupid.”

“Tseng will have my ass,” Rod whined. “This is your transfer. I’m just supposed to be the driver.”

Reno leaned back in the seat. “This is somethin’ that I’ve been puttin’ offfor a long time, yo. Take the caseback. Cloud’ll most likely kick my assoutta there in no time, so I’ll meet ya there if that’s the case.”

Rod looked unsure; Reno was certain that there were amillion ideas rushing around in his head. “Ya won’t be blamed for anythin’. Just finish the job. This issomethin’ I gotta do, yo.”

“If I get shit from either Rude or Tseng for leaving you,you’re going to owe me, dude,” Rod said as he rubbed his hands together. “Big time. Rude threw me in the ocean last time I pissed him off, and I didn’t meanto break his sunglasses. Tseng just canmake my life miserable.”

“It’ll be fine,” Reno said as he stepped out of the car,closed the door with a firm thump and started to walk towards the pub thatCloud walked into.

His heart was beating frantically, his mouth dry, hisstomach knotted up, and he felt like he had a fever, but this was his chanceand he had to take it. He had to forcesome calming breaths so that he wouldn’t make a total fool of himself. It was a make-or-break moment and he reallyhad no idea how he was going to approach him.

Standing before the entrance to the bar, he pulled outhis phone and looked at an old picture that he cherished. It was one where Cloud was sitting betweenhimself and Zack in the mess hall. Itwas before they had all been together. Cloud had just put them all in their place, and Cloud’s friend —John—had just taken the picture of them. Hehad to confiscate the phone to get a copy of it, and he made sure he had backupcopies so that it would never be lost.

~couldn’t bearlosing all those pictures~

It was one of his favorites.

Taking a cleansing, deep breath he put his phone back inhis pocket, and put his hands and walked into the bar.

#soy writes #ffvii #old shit #the depths of my archives #Maybe one day I will publish this #... when I'm ready.#evil-robot-cat

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trollcafe · 2 years

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old friend

Length: 883 Words Romune runs into an old Fleet friend. Credits: Hiroea belongs to @/cherrytrolls Google Docs Link

“If I jump at Cap, he’ll catch me. I bet you my last pack of smokes.”

“Aye lass, yer full of shit!” Laughter and the distant sound of cigarettes being shuffled out of pockets for exchange were quickly drowned out by the complaints of the exhausted coffee machine roaring to life.

Romune waited patiently for the coffee to fill his mug while the chatter continued. He knew this song and dance by now. He would return to the lunchroom where his crew awaited further instructions only for Acilst to run and jump for him. She was a spry little goldblood, easily secured with one arm. Her X-Ray psionics made her a valuable asset so there was hardly a chance in hell he’d let her fall and get hurt. She’d look at the visiting medic with a smug expression and happily accept her prize. By now, Romune had successfully mastered the art of catching her without spilling a drop of coffee.

The last drop dripped and rippled, the dying machine returning to its slumber. Romune inhaled slowly. He stretched out his shoulders, rolled his neck, even managed to crack his jaw. His face was far scruffier than the Fleet normally allowed but he was never very good at listening. In theory, one could get away with anything if they were good enough.

“Where is he anyways?” Chozaw was concerned as always. A smart olive who frequently accompanied Romune in the interrogation room. Beyond interrogations, they were sharp as a tack and seemingly wise beyond their years, despite their worrisome state. They were surprisingly paternal for an oliveblood. Hardly much to complain about, as Romune valued their opinion highly. That was an uncommon statement for the blueblood.

“He’s gone for good this time! We’re free to go!” Acilst’s laughter rang out sharp and proud. A loud gasp and a soft thud cut her laughter short, before a humbled whisper of thanks. She must’ve been leaning back in her chair again. Romune wondered who caught her this time.

“This isn’t schoolfeeding, Aci. If Romune doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes we don’t get to retire from our service. We’ll all get moved. Maldov and Vejolt are the only ones safe if he’s really gone. You’ll be a battery at best!” Chozaw sounded too annoyed to have been her hero this time.

“He’s in the snackblock…listening.” Vejolt’s low voice was almost difficult to hear. Beyond having the most obnoxious horns imaginable, Vejolt donned a mask that muffled his already soft voice. Supposedly the purple had suffered an incident in his youth that required him to wear masks for better air filtration. It prevented him from ever needing paint. Romune found himself chuckling softly as the purple announced his presence. He never knew how the ex-clown was so good at that, but it made him useful in the field.

With that, Romune picked up his mug, held it in his left hand, and entered the block his crew resided in to continue as normal…

“Romune, dear?” A gentle tug at his arm brought the blueblood back to Alternia. He blinked away the last traces of his unwarranted memory as Hiroea looked up at him.

“Yes?”

The jade followed where Romune’s gaze had been frozen, scanning inside the windows of a cafe they had been walking past. “Who are we glaring at?” It just seemed like a bunch of regular trolls. Some looked strange, sure, but it just seemed like a Fleet crew had stopped by for brunch.

Romune couldn’t help but feel warm towards his moirail. If he could smile, he would. After the moment passed, Hiro’s words settled in. He had almost forgotten what he froze at prior, until Rom turned back towards the glass and froze again. There were few moments that he genuinely appreciated the robotic portions of his face preventing him from being expressive, but this was one of them.

Romune knew why his blood ran cold. He would tell Hiro later that he didn’t have the slightest clue what happened, and the jadeblood might believe him, but the conversation would stop there. His robotic eyes settled on a pair of the most obnoxious horns he had ever seen. The hair was shorter, the mask was different, but Romune would recognize those curly horns anywhere. Accompanied by the same pale purple sash. Despite their time apart, he really hadn’t changed much.

“It’s no one.” No one was an awfully rude name for someone Romune once trusted and valued, “We should get moving. Farowe would end me if we were more than just fashionably late to brunch.”

If Hiro picked up on the unsettled feeling he didn’t show it. He was good at that. The jade took his moirail’s hand once more and they continued on. The duo made it some distance down the road before Romune heard the door of the cafe open. It wasn’t thrown open frantically, but rather done so in a way to not draw attention.

Despite the distance and the mask muffling his already low voice, Vejolt’s softhearted greeting and goodbye rang loud and clear in Romune’s head. Stupid chucklevoodoos.

Hiroea faltered for a moment with a look of confusion, “Did you hear something?”

“I think a troll from one of the apartments above said hello.”

“Ah, nobody important then.”

#vejolt #romune #miykie #maldov #mike is also maldov #this is kinda old but i wanted to post it #cos i was thinkin abt romune again!#there's also a link to what vejolt looks like in there cos vejo is still alive #idk abt chozaw and acilst #drabbles

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kurohfic · 6 years

Text

Title: Toxic Chocolate Pairing: Ot3! Kuroh/Shiro/Neko (could be interpreted as platonic if that is your preference!) Rating: K Summary: Shiro thinks Valentine’s day traditions are pretty neat, Kuroh thinks they are stupid. Neko thinks they are absolutely delicious! Aka Hakumaitou celebrate Valentine’s day! A/N: Written for K-Project Rare Pair Week! Please enjoy :D The prompt for this submission was Holidays! (I always appreciate feedback) Link to Ao3 (x)

There was this funny kind of look on her face as the date approached. The various marketing teams initiated by the Gold Clan took advantage of a consumer driven society by spreading posters, advertising new flavors, and invading every store, from the corner supermarkets to the bustling shopping malls in the center of the city.

Valentine’s Day was looming, and with it the rest -- the color pink, the aroma of roses and cocoa powder, hopeful glances, and broken hearts.

For the members of the Silver Clan, Valentine’s Day did not live up to the expected hype for various reasons.

Seeing as Shiro had spent a majority of his everlasting lifespan in isolation, he found within himself an appreciation for the intentions behind it, but nothing much more beyond that. The candy sweet reminders did not strike any deep sense of motivation within, seeing as he’d long since fallen out of the tradition of exchange. Back in his grounded days there had never been much interaction with people his age beyond his sister’s company. Despite their rather cunning and mischievious presentation there was not much time for amorous interaction, between the chaos of the war and their groundbreaking research. It had never seemed lonely so long as Clauida was at his side, then after… Then after, Shiro was more prone to observation than participation.

Even though his experience with the holiday was slightly fresher, Kuroh found that the customes reaped every Feburary were little more than a pestering headache. In the village where he’d lived with Ichigen Miwa, there’d been a shortage of eligible bachelors, in fact many of the residence were already married and starting their own families. However, through the periphery of his youth he’d spotted the occasional woman nervously delivering a package of homemade goods, an offering to their local celebrity, who always accepted with a gracious smile, without any sense of obligation to future courtship.

Kuroh himself had never noticed the toll of time, or the fact that he’d grown into one of those rare bachelors until his 16th year when a girl, the niece of their local grocer and new to the neighborhood, shoved a misshapen parsal into his hands. The burnt smell within had wafted through his nostrils in an instant. He’d stared with great shock as the girl bolted immediately afterward, and Master Ichigen had chuckled softly once they’d cleared earshot. His hand landed reassuringly upon his pupil’s shoulder. Kuroh had not derived much pleasure from the experience as a whole, not entirely fond of sweets himself, or the awkward exchanges faced thereafter whenever they were in need of fresh fruits and vegetables.

The outlier of the group thrived in Neko. Growing up as a cat she had little opportunity for the festive give and take of Valentine’s Day. As a gorgeous young woman who loved snacks, she found this to be one of the greatest shortcomings of her generally exciting lifestyle. She did not care much about the romance associated with the holiday, she was not lonely anymore with her Shiro, and Kurosuke to keep her company. However, she certainly saw the appeal, people proving their interest by providing delicious snacks, with no serious commitment upon the acceptance of the treat.

As a new student at Ashinaka High School, Valentine’s Day sailed by with another festival. Kukuri claimed that instead of swapping cookies and tainting the educational environment with unwarranted declarations of love, the high school would direct that energy towards paper mache, costumes, and art! Neko had noticed with much amusement that this claim did not sway several of the boys from edging around the territory, throwing hopeful glances in their direction, until finally a pack, lead by Mishina, swarmed the unsuspecting girl with gifts and cards. It was a highly amusing transgression until Neko realized that not a single boy in the jumble had meant to gain her attention.

“It’s probably because you’re so new!” Kukuri had attempted to consol once she’d vanquished the so called disturbance. “Don’t worry, I’m sure next Valentine's Day you’ll get plenty of sweets!”

After she’d accepted the hypothesis, and regained her prior enthusiasm, Neko had bounced home to see if perhaps the two boys who knew her best had prepared anything in her honor. And there it was, that funny look on her face, curious when Shiro returned to the apartment after a long day of lectures, plopping a tiny package on their coffee table before retreating to relax on the bed.

“What is it, Shiro?” Neko asked, the enthusiasm rich in her voice as she bounded to examine the parcel.

“Just a little gift from one of my students,” he sighed in explanation rolling his stiff shoulders back, and relishing the pull of the stretch.

“From a student?” it was Kuroh piping in, there was a disapproving look on his face, as he leaned out from the kitchen, apron in place, and something that looked a lot like flower spread across his nose.

“Yummy!” Neko cawed as she unwrapped the gift revealing a decorated box of chocolates to her curious stare.

“You can have it if you like,” Shiro replied, smiling at the young woman before turning his attention to Kuroh, still looming in the doorframe. “Don’t worry, Kuroh, it’s nothing lecherous, she brought them in for everyone, the other students too.”

“And you accepted?” the disapproval still clear in Kuroh’s voice.

Shiro replied with a quiet smile, “There’s nothing wrong with a little holiday spirit.”

“Yeah!” Neko agreed, licking her lips as she scarfed down three of the chocolates immediately, popping one after the other, mushing them together in her mouth as one chocolatey glob. They were obviously store bought, but it was better than nothing. Though he did not appear entirely convinced, Kuroh at least seemed to be moving on from the impropriety of accepting a Valentines day gift from a student. The accusation in his expression was morphing into something closer to exasperation. He’d turned his attention to Neko now.

“You’ll ruin your appetite.”

“Neko is tired of fish!” she announced with exaggerated resistance. At this proclamation both men stared at her with individual interpretations of doubt.

“In that case I’ll stop cooking it for you,” Kuroh challenged. He’d taken up the role of chef without complaints, it was a part of his nature, he enjoyed the task of caretaker, the thoughtfulness that was prescribed to every meal. The sated looks of his two friends were yet another inspiration. He kept this much to himself as he stared Neko down. He loved to cook for people who appreciated his efforts, but Neko’s spoiled and unwieldy attitude often drove him to the edge of his patience. He could see the panic swarming in her eyes as she measured his bluff, not sure if it was safe to resist with dinner on the line.

“No!” she backpedaled. “I’m tired of fish because it’s Valentines Day! And on Valentines Day you’re supposed to eat chocolates and cake!”

“On Valentines Day you’re supposed to embarrass yourself and and confess sordid intentions, not fall into the vapid trap set up by commercial companies. Besides,” he leveled her with a challenging glare. “Chocolate is toxic for cats.”

“Stupid, Kurosuke!” Neko spat back, at the end of her argument. After aggressively shoving the final chocolate into her mouth, she leapt towards the bed where Shiro sat observing the altercation with a look of fond exasperation.

He pet Neko’s hair comfortingly, sitting back to brace against the wall.

“I think Valentines Day is about putting your heart on the line. Telling the one you fancy how you truly feel, for better or for worse.” He smiled then, “Of course it’s hard to experience it in full from an airship, so I’m no expert, but it sounds nice… In theory.”

When he looked up, Kuroh was staring at him with an indecipherable expression on his face, and Neko, on the other side of him, was grinning, her interest renewed once more.

“And to eat cake with them if all goes well!” she amended. “And if not, steal their cake and then there is more for you anyway!”

“You’re relentless,” Kuroh sighed.

“And you’re still making fish for dinner, right?”

Shiro laughed, Neko smiled, pleased with Shiro’s amusement, and Kuroh pivoted back into the kitchen to finish cooking up their supper.

It was the next evening, the evening after Valentines Day, as they closed off their meal, and Shiro raised his hands to offer the usual thanks when Kuroh cut him off.

“I made dessert for tonight,” he announced in a firm voice though his eyes avoided the startled expressions of both of his companions.

“Dessert?” Shiro parroted, as Neko blinked appraisingly.

“You know,” Kuroh shrugged, eyeing the young woman between them. “Since you made such a big deal over it yesterday…”

Her reaction was immediate.

“Yay! Thank you, Kurosuke! Sweet dessert, you do like Valentine’s Day after all!” Neko exclaimed. She’d leaped once more in total disregard of personal space to wrap her arms tight around his slender frame. It was far easier to get a hold of him when he was seated and closer to her own height. As he’d suffered the indignities of Neko’s closeness on many occasions in the past, he’d more or less grown used to the treatment. Inexplicably, the color of his cheeks deepened to a light pink, as he wriggled out of her grasp.

“I don’t like Valentine’s Day,” he grunted, already retreating towards the kitchen. “But you obviously put meaning into it…”

As he trailed off Neko and Shiro exchanged jolly smiles. “Thank you, Kuroh!” Shrio called after him.

It turned out that Kuroh had baked a fresh fruit tart, that despite not having any chocolate still tasted incredible. Shiro demanded seconds following his initial slice, and Neko thirds, so that none of the cake remained by the end of the sitting.

“Wow, Kuroh,” Shiro sat back at last, patting his deliciously full stomach. “It was decedent!”

“It was nothing,” he replied softly, gathering the plates in preparation of the clean up.

However, his hand was pinned to the table before he could rise to his feet. Neko was at his side again, staring at him with her mixed match eyes and that suspicious little grin.

“The sweet dessert was yummy, Kurosuke. But cake only covers part of the process.”

Before any reply could be formulated, or the meaning behind that look could dawn on him, the hold around Kuroh’s hand tightened and a pair of smooth lips pecked lightly against the side of his cheek.

“Yes, Kuroh,” it was Shiro’s voice floating into his ear. He too was suddenly closer than anticipated. An odd intoxication flooded Kuroh’s mind as if it had been wine instead of cake. The skin where Neko’s lips had landed still blazed in an echo of her kiss.

“Thank you for the sweets,” Shiro’s voice was a whisper curling around his ear. Then, a second pair of lips pressed slower to the opposite side of his face.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” they said in near unison, sandwiching their baker between two warm bodies, and delaying the process of his chores. Kuroh, to his credit, loosened his grip slightly around the sullied plates, and let himself be held for the moment.

“You idiots,” he murmured sweetly as they smiled against his cheeks.

#krarepairweek2018 #kuroh yatogami #yashiro isana #neko #ameno miyabi #hakumaitou #fic #kuroh x shiro x neko

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tmnt-imagines · 7 years

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Beauty and the Beast: Chapter One

“You can’t love someone until you love yourself first,”

“That’s bullshit. I have never loved myself. But you? Oh, God’s above. I loved you. I loved you so much, I forgot what hating myself felt like.”

Central Park was like Wonderland in the evening whispers of light. As sun fades from the sky, the grass ignites in pastel colours, and the trees look to be sculpted in molten gold. The sky is a canvas, painted in all shades of yellows and oranges, which blend so well beneath the blushing smudges of clouds, and though they part and give way to a beautiful light, they still roll across the backdrop of dusk with the grace of delicate feathers, floating home. Everything seems enlarged, 10 times as big as it usually feels in the hustle and bustle of New York City life, and to Annabelle the beautifully carved, metallic plants stretch high up, so far that her little self feels twice as short underneath them.

She’d made a point recently, of walking through Central Park just before night took hold of the city. And while everyone departed from their work, and disappeared into cars and faceless buildings, she would stand and marvel at the scenery – imagining the city was something more magical than just New York.

Annabelle was never one to enjoy the confines of skyscrapers and streets filled with buildings, she was a country girl (from Britain) who felt more than just slightly out of her depth in the ‘Big Apple’. Had she had a say in her whereabouts, she would have picked Paris, or Verona, or Athens. Somewhere more mysterious and magnificent than America, and more specifically this city in particular. Yet, when it came down to it, it had not been her say, but that of her father; who had decided, quite abruptly, this would be where they’d move to next.

Though she couldn’t complain entirely, Annabelle got to study at Columbia University; which was a magic of its own. Especially the arts department, which she had become so engrossed in over the last few months, she’d almost forgotten about her crushed dreams of attending Oxford, or Cambridge, back home.

Living with her father, somewhere completely new, had been a strain. But evenings like this made the move worthwhile. Stars, like ivory pebbles on a golden beach, were beginning to illuminate the sky in disarray, and were only faintly glimmering in the company of the sun. It would not be long before darkness consumed the sky, and those flakes of bronze, which Annabelle was infatuated with, would be submerged by indigo and sapphire; the silver of the moon taking the place of the sun.

This was the only time, and place, Annabelle got any space anymore. No one at University really liked her, she was the oddball they all steered clear of, and with her father constantly raving and ranting about god knows what, Annabelle appreciated times like these where she could just breathe, and take in the silence before she resumed normal life. No one was glaring or staring at her, and no one was prattling on about their latest creation. No one was around at all. And Annabelle loved it. The silence, the peace, the gorgeous picture painted before her – it was all she needed to detach herself from society for even a second.

The book clustered in a heap within Annabelle’s bag was growing heavier, it seemed, with every second she stayed standing still, and the phone impatiently wriggling reminded her that time had not paused as she had, and there were, in fact, other people in the world, who did await her arrival back home. Her father, whom was now phoning her, was the OCD type that would panic if Annabelle was even but a minute later home than she had said she would be. It was irritating sometimes, like these, when Annabelle wanted a break from everyone else, but at the same time that was just her father, as quirky and bizarre as he was, she loved him dearly, and made a point of walking a tad faster than normal just to ensure she was home a slight faster than she otherwise would have been.

“Belle!” Cried her father as she crossed the threshold of their apartment. Her dad was an artist, and thus every wall of their studio/flat was decorated in acrylics and watercolours, designed in some abstract, contemporary way that could have easily passed as a mess. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, and he stumbled eagerly out into the hallway like an excitable monkey. His head was balding, and he wore a thin layer of greying stubble along his chubby jaw; and though he was a relatively portly gentleman, he had begun to look younger and healthier since moving to America.

“Yes dad?” Annabelle chuckled, cocking an eyebrow at her father, whom was equally as painted as the rest of their shoe-box home. He had paint smeared along his face, and stained on his clothing, but then when didn’t he?

“Come see,” He frantically waved a white and blue hand at his daughter, and ushered her eagerly into the living room area, which often doubled as his gallery. There, leant against a beam in the centre of the room, was a painting that was in the process of drying. It was of the seaside, a candy-cane-coloured pillar in the distance on a cliff and seagulls flying across the canvas. It was stunning, amazing and refined, and despite her father’s odd tendencies, Annabelle was always in awe of his talent.

“Its brilliant dad,” She gushed, staring at the familiar scene. That was the view from her bedroom window, in their house back in England, and to this day Annabelle could picture it vividly; her father had worked wonders to try and recreate that exact image. “Are you taking that one tomorrow, too?” She looked at her father with faint interest.

He was to speak with a gallery owner about publishing his work tomorrow, leaving Annabelle home alone for the weekend.

“I think so,” He smiled sweetly down at her with a glimmer in his eyes, and then ticked to another thought, “how about take out for tea, to celebrate?”

Giggling, Annabelle nodded, not at all concerned as to what exactly her father intended to eat, but simply happy to see him so excited and like himself again.

Her mother had died last year, from cancer, and since then her father had not been healthy, nor happy. He’d hardly painted at all since then, nor had he slept much, or even left the house more than once a week to tend to their garden – which had been Annabelle’s mother’s favourite feature of their home. It was only when Christmas came about that he decided a fresh start was in order, and hence rushed him and his daughter to New York as quickly as he could. That had been a few months ago when that decision was made, and by now he seemed a lot better. Annabelle only hoped he would stay that way.

“I’ll see you in a couple of days, sweetheart,” Her dad smiled sadly, as Annabelle said her goodbyes. They stood on the pavement outside their apartment building, a taxi pulled up to the curb with her father’s belongings already loaded into the back. “Be good, ok?”

“Dad, I’m an adult. I will be fine.” Annabelle laughed at his concern, looking forward to a couple days of peace in her home before her dad returned next week. “See you soon.” She pecked his cheek quietly, and stepped back. She watched him drive off until he rounded the corner, and decided then to go back upstairs. She didn’t know, exactly, what she would be doing with the place to herself, but knowing her tendencies it wouldn’t fail to be something entirely boring and unimaginative. Though that was, at least for her, fun; without anyone to have as company, reading and watching TV was the only fun she had these days.

“Annie?” Called a voice from behind her front door, later that day. Annabelle had sat herself, comfortably, on the sofa, and was in the process of watching Pride and Prejudice when this unexpected guest startled her.

Sighing deeply, she wondered to the door purposefully, and swung it open to reveal the incredibly smug and ignorant face of a classmate.

“I told you not to call me that,” She barked bitterly, just about ready to slam the door in his face. “What do you want?”

“I was hoping you’d consider reading lines for him; you can be my Juliet?” He winked. Jackson Pierce was the most arrogant, egotistical, misogynistic and narcissistic bastard Annabelle had ever had the misfortune of encountering. He attended university with Annabelle, and though he was majoring in the Dramatic Arts, she had still been forced to meet him through her English studies. Because of his silk-gold hair, and angular facial features, every girl Annabelle could think of swooned over him and his ocean blue eyes, but not her. Perhaps that was why she was deemed as weird, but then she had much higher expectations than a fling with a hot guy at college, and thus could not care less what anyone thought of her and her decisions.

“I’m busy.” She stated bluntly, hoping to end the conversation as quickly as possible, without him worming his way into her flat.

“Really, doing what?” He propped his head up with a broad grin, which was practically begging to be slapped off.

“That, I believe, isn’t your business.” Annabelle pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Goodbye, Jackson.” And with that, the door closed. She physically shuddered once the lock clicked shut, hating being within close proximity of him, because it was highly likely she would catch something off him, even from a distance.

That was the kind of boys she was exposed to at university, and not so surprisingly she had no intentions of having much to do with them beyond her course required. Jackson Pierce, among others, was not going to be the boy to ruin Annabelle’s first experience of America, and she was not the type of girl that would stoop to wanting to date him for social benefits. She wanted a real love. A love like the ones in her books. A love worth fighting for.

What did you guys think?

#tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt donnie #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt raphael fanfiction #tmnt imagine #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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twilightpony4 · 7 years

Text

HomeFront: 40. Confrontation

There was still a piece of sunlight when they reached the designated village. To warm them up, they walked them until fit and amped up their speed as time went on. Ridden frequently or not, everybody needs a warm up. The whole Wild West riding thing doesn't work like that (sorry y'all). Venus pulled back on the reins ever so gently to cue her steed to slow to a stop. It was in the Andalusian’s nature to disobey somewhat, fighting back by shaking the bit in his mouth. Leonardo found it easy with Yujin, who listened and executed without question. Still, Venus was speaking and responding to her reacting steed. In a moment, he gave in and shuffled to a stop beside his equine friend. Venus pointed to a building ahead. It was pretty easy to set it apart. Much like the Wu Kwan, it was a ruby (not much a diamond), amongst the small rural homes. From what they can tell, there was no guard outside the door, but that wasn’t to say there was one. These are ninjas we’re talking about; an organization of ninjas and soldiers who are sure to keep a careful eye on who and what enters. “Let's tie them up over here.” She referred to their steeds when a tree caught her eye. Thick at the base yet bent at some degree, the green plumage spread across evenly at a tall height. The location of it was not too far from the desired building and hid behind a house at angle angle. That way, the animals could be hidden as well if a problem were to arise. She clicked on, having Nan lead the way for Yujin due to the incapability of his rider. As they drew closer towards the living log, he could feel the horse slow underneath him, leading to a stop in front of it. “If we need to, we can make a quick getaway.” Venus slid off her high horse. “Gotcha.” Leonardo tried to mimic her movements, though they weren't so subtle. His dismount that ended up as a climb downwards was no match for her simple slide down the leather. Both feet landed in two distinct beats against the ground. Yujin nickered and sashayed in relation to his odd movements, but did not overreact. The instant he touches the ground, a sudden shock went up his leg through his foot. They had been riding for so long and he had never done it before. It was torture on his behind as the belief was indeed true about why a cowboy walked in such a way. He forced himself to stand up straight, reaching backwards to pop his back. “Okay Leonardo, you are…?” The question lingered as she reached around a lower branch. In her hand was a rope to the horse’s halter that she had brought for such an occasion. With a good knot tied, she slipped the halter over Nan’s muzzle and bridle. Once secured, he immediately dove his head down to eat by the tree’s roots. She advanced to Yujin, unbuckling his own from the side of his saddle. “Just a tourist; Lost if needed be.” Leo answered, doing some random stretched hoping they would serve him justice. “Good.” She wrapped the rope about the tree on a different branch. “So what are you then? You know, since you're not a geisha.” His head cocked to the side to see hers. She was focusing on the knot until returning the gaze back. “When we get in, I'll check out the surroundings and determine what I could be. With a gathering at this degree, women may or may not be strictly permitted.” She sounded so down, so low as she presumed to secure her dark colored sweetheart. “Okay.” She was just giving Yujin assuring pats as he watched her. Such gentle hands smoothed over his velvet nose, delicate with love. Feeling the eyes, she looked up at him. Quickly (and not so smoothly), he turned away to stare at the empty spaces around him. Her smile faded and she let go of her horse’s face. He felt a hand grasp his arm. By the time her looked down, she was already folding it over hers. “Arm over, arm under. Now, stride!” The mantra repeated and continued in her head, remembering the etiquette she had left behind. Their steps were even and in pace as they left their steeds behind and towards the fire. Closer and closer they came, and more and more dos their stomachs swirled. It deemed too quickly were they about to ascend up the steps of the “forbidden” building. Both eyed each person who entered prior. Anybody is a potential danger, so best to catch any warning signs. “Keep your face still and confident when you walk in.” Venus kept her head low as she whispered to him. He lowered his head to catch every encouraging word. “It is most welcoming to the people and will serve you some demand of respect.” He gave her a single nod. Leo raised his head. Although his face looked deciding nod unsure, she carried it high at a comfortable rate. When he found an acceptable carriage, his expression straightened out. There was a glassy look in his eye, a look that looked right through one with relaxed facial muscles. The female turtle smiled as she watched his face transform. When he found his face, she continued to smile. He gave her a quick, playful glance before restoring his previous look. A man before them held the door open, letting the two walk into the dragon’s nest. The whole interior was marked in red and gold. Ruby colored wallpaper contrasted against gold accents and poles as the venue was set up circular. If you followed the path, you’d find doors on your right that could lead to anything. In the middle of it all, there was always a shallow set of stairs available for one to come down and join the occasion personally unless one wanted to watch it from above. Venus clutched Leonardo a bit more, trying to keep close and stay out of line. There was literally nothing they can expect but the worst if their hoax was to fail. “(Good evening.)” one gentleman greeted the strange boy as they passed by. By this minute, Leonardo’s face froze. What did he say? Is he onto us? He could only lean on Venus to help interpret. When he saw her smile, he relaxed the muscles he tensed up involuntarily. “(Good evening, sir.)” Venus returned in Leonardo’s place. Not at all thinking of Leonardo, the man went about his business. He was ok with Leo not responding and a woman instead. Good. As they walked around the path, they felt like hawks, watching everyone below on the “high” stoop. Traditional music played as drums and bells bounced around. Food was served on a platter carried by workers who went in and out of what would assumedly be a kitchen. There were not many women, but numerous men of all ages who chatted and laughed together. “Definitely a gathering, but it is highly social.” She observed. “A Foot meeting wouldn't look like this. If I learned anything from movies, they could be using this as a cover. It's best to figure if they are in a separate room.” Leo added, nodding his head welcomely to a man who caught his eye as they walked. “My thoughts exactly.” No sooner did she speak, she caught sight of the looks she was getting. Passing men or women by the walls with their fans up to their eyes singled her out. The look was not at all welcoming, but they weren't going to say anything. Venus already knew. “As if I don't get enough looks as a turtle.” She muttered disgustedly, glaring back at one older woman. Her skin was as porcelain as her face powder. The crooked, edgy look in her eyes were disturbed by how this one girl had no decency to keep herself out of the sun. A very rural, outdoors type girl she assumed to be. How unladylike. “All because I'm dark-skinned.” (Making sure y'all know this isn't a racial diss, it's a fashion diss). “Or because you're beautiful.” the comment caught her off guard. She was keeping her eyes on her toes until that warm voice came in. Venus looked up to him. Leonardo looked extremely genuine, all the while pulling her a little closer in their arm fold. “ Either one.” he shrugged, making the cutest of smiles with his slight overbite. The female turtle blushed, taking her eyes away to escape from his own. “I'd feel a lot better if we weren't possibly surrounded by a terrorist group.” she muttered, bringing herself back to reality. Leonardo had to face it too. This really wasn’t the time for him to be suave. Villains at every corner, but he took the chance to compliment the pretty girl. The band grew lively then soft again as the social floor became a dancefloor in transition. The men cleared a space in the middle of the circle as the lights began to dim. Leonardo and Venus were on their toes as the room went black. Bam! A white flash revealed the three women who appeared undetected in the circle. The band began to play once again, in tune to the small fireworks that were strategically set up for the performance. Following the rhythm of the flute, a red dragon costume hopped in and encircled the women as they performed feats with their gorgeously decorated fans. Both felt obligated to hunch over in the darkness of their higher platform. Although they were on a mission, Leo couldn’t help but watch the spectacle. It was something he’d never seen, or at least be able to see it in the origin of the art. Suddenly, he felt a tug on his arm. He whipped back and off to the side. Venus was up against the wall, in the middle between two doors. The turtle stopped himself short, just before he could bodyslam her. She made sure he kept close by pulling his hand towards her so no one could hear her whisper. “Take a look at every woman you see.” Man, Leo didn't want this to be the time where her hot breath sent shivers down his back. Poor man contained his composure and followed instructions. There were the women performing...and… most of the others were up were they were, either walking around in small groups or fraternizing with the male guests. “ What do they have in common?” Did she really want him to think about other girls in this room? “White faces, kimonos, black and red makeup.” he listed, which didn’t turn out to be so hard. Venus nodded, but even under no light, the shadows of her face weren’t smiling. “Every girl here has a pair of fans or a small stringed instrument at their sides.” She groaned. “I really hate being me right now.” “Why?” He asked. Not too long did he get an answer. Venus began to unknot her robe. Leo couldn’t think of what she was doing as a crimson blush took over his cheeks. He soon made him whip around in embarrassment. “Leo, I needed you to cover me.” She spoke harshly. He was too scared and bewildered when he slowly and awkwardly raised his arms, standing a foot or two away from her. She used a hand to reach his shoulder and whip him around. Now, her robe was spilling off her shoulders as she clasped it together at her chest with her other hand. “I’m just toying with it but it’s disgraceful if I do this in public. I’m human to everybody else, not turtle. You got to shield over me.” Her free hand grasped his and raised it up to her head, a couple inches to the left of it. She did the same to the other on the opposite side. Now Leo understood as he realized that his body and draping robe hid Venus underneath him. But, he had to admit, he felt uncomfortably close. It was already hot in there, but literally Venus could lift her head up and bump into his chin. He also felt lost, debating on whether to close his eyes or not because his position has him looking right down at her as she pulled her robe to sit just on her shoulders before they could choose to fall. He closed his eyes, hoping he didn’t seem like an idiot to her as she tied her robe back up. Before she was going to allow him to back off, she took a moment to revel at how he had closed his eyes even though there was nothing for her to hide from him. How sweet and gentlemanly. Now, back to life. “From here on out, I am a courtesan. Got it?” She urged, using a hand to gently push him off her. He opened his eyes, seeing a slightly different style before him. “Courtesan.” he repeated. “Correct.” “How do we figure what rooms they're in?” He referred to the Foot, the reason they’re here in the first place. By observation, people were going through the doors freely, just pairs of men and women who entered privately. “I see some couples walking into random rooms here. Do we do the same?” “No.” Venus shook her head, although she valued his insight. “We are visitors here. They are probably regulars.” The last sentence felt gross in her mouth as she cross her arms. “Hopefully, I can try to sense them behind closed doors.” She took Leonardo’s arm back and wrapped it as she had it done previously. In step, they stalked by the doors. To help her single out anything she could feel, she left her eyes to Leonardo when she closed hers, feeling any tendency through her body. “Feel anything yet?” He asked gingerly after the first five doors they’ve stopped by. “A little, but it's not getting any stronger as we go along.” She was honing in on something, but it felt off and eerie. Something could be blocking the transmittance. “There's definitely mischief.” she felt through her soul the evil tendencies, but it wasn’t strong enough to pinpoint an exact location or person. “(Are you still with her?)” A timid tap bounced against Leonardo’s shoulder. Leonardo jumped, compressing his companion’s arm underneath his tense muscle. He relaxed once he figured where it came from. It was a very old man with a very strange look. A tattoo that ran along with head and a shaven do and that a lot of hairs pulled into a topknot. Prior, Venus felt something odd as they walked and it grew stronger up until the point Leo had squeezed her. She opened her eyes in shock of the suddenness. The man was her friend, Khan. What was he doing here? Maybe the same as her? But then again, this strange feeling must be associated with him. Whether it be good or bd, Venus had to know. “I am a tourist.” Leonardo enunciated in English, quite unsure with what to do with himself. “(He is a lost tourist.)” Venus giggled in a very high pitched voice. A gingerly hand pressed against his chest as she smiled brightly to the older gentleman. “(And no, he is not. Is there anything I can do for you?)” “(You are needed. Come with me.)” Quickly, he took her by the hand and tried to pull her away. “Um, I don’t think she’s-.” Leo was going to reach for her, but she dodged his hand elegantly. “It is alright. I am ok.” She nodded slowly. The way she looked, she could be nto something. It was knowing and in control. “You're going to leave me here?!” He whined. Given all the circumstances, she was going to leave him to his devices in a terrorist party? “I'll be right back!” Venus whispered harshly back. “(He asked me where the bathroom was. My apologies.)” She turned quickly to the older fellow, wrapping er arm around his as she had done Leonardo. “(I see.)” He did not take ny interest in the matter. The older man whisked his only saving grace away. He watched as they gained ground and entered one of the rooms they chose not to seek out. Leo just stood there, dumbfounded as he leaned against the wall. What was he to do now? Just then, a group of young men passed by. Each one eyed him critically. Tourist, they were probably thinking. Leonardo sighed and gave it a whirl. “How are you doing?” His throat reached a depth that kept them moving along. “(Dance for me. Could you do that?)” he asked so politely. A chair off to the side was dragged to the woman standing center in the room. It was pulled to sit underneath him as he rested his back against it. “(Yes.)” Hurried, she reached for the fans by her sides. She did not want to keep him waiting. “(Would one with these fans work?)” One opened in her hand. Although it was made of paper and elegantly painted on, the thick, sturdy handles were designed to fight. “(Yes. Please, begin.)” he asked. Khan relaxed, nearly melted into his chair once the other fan was opened and she began. It had been years since Venus watched or danced with fans before. It was not a skill she was interested in and would do other things with them rather than dance. Alas, her cover called for it . Calm and collected on the outside, panic surged internally for her brain scrambled for any moves that would keep her rhythm going and make her any less suspicious than she already was. When in doubt, recycle the moves from Gong Fu or Hai Yang. Probably not the best choices, but he’s old, he’ll dig the classics. He did not seem to have a preference for his mind was in two places at the moment, relishing them both. “(Everything's coming together nicely.)” she heard him mumble. “(Finally, all of my plans will begin after this day.)” That came out louder than the ast, Judging by the way he said it and with the volume, he wanted her to know something. One would not be so direct, but touch on the subject in hope to spark of some interest. “(What are these plans of yours? May I ask?)” She gave in. These mischievous vibes were still present, and now he’s talking about ‘plans’. Could be anything: improvements of the council, a solution maybe, a solution to the Foot problem… why was he here? A good guess that they invited the village as a coverup. “(You are a silenced employee of the Foot?)” Oh, snap. Her fan snapped open with a warrior’s pose when he popped the question. Venus couldn’t believe it. Could it be? Khan? But… but he was the one who hated the Foot. He detained that guy the last time… or he pretended to. Could it be that there are other wizards inclined to the Foot? There must be more than this story, otherwise the world will soon be in chin deep trouble. “(I am pledged to the Foot Clan, yet I know very little.)” She tried to keep her voice even, not letting it crack and ruin her elegant appeal. Khan twisted the end of his long, black beard between his fingers. “(It should not hurt to tell. Besides, I need to tell of my soon to be victory.)” Oh, no. A gloater. She just had to put up with him long enough to get some truth circulating. It just can’t be that he was the bad guy in this. Khan is a good man. Please, just be undercover, a mole in their plan, she prayed while she composed into a crane position. “(As the next, powerful magician in line, it is only fair that I may speak for all of China.)” “(Yes? You are put before the political leaders of the entire country.)” Venus wanted to keep it going, let it all flow out at once and keep her nerves from rioting from anticipation. “(If I could, they would have been the dust of my shoes by today.)” He spoke so snobbishly. “(What keeps you?)” “(I have been offered a position to become the ruler of China with an image that does not appear to be a dictatorship. A sense of peace, if you will.)” “(How so?)” He is evil. You could not imagine the terror and panic circulating within a content-looking, fabulous dancer as herself, fighting it to keep the secrets flowing. Later, she told herself, it will happen later. “(Mistress Karai, daughter of Oroku Saki, has created alliances with the underground ambassadors of nations to gain complete control of the United States. With my cooperation, she will, in turn, support my political campaign when China’s leaders fall to her hand. Of course, she will bring forth to me more.)” Both of his hands reached for his collar and taught them apart. “(For you do not know, the Council of the Chinese Magicians are quickly failing without the guidance of the Great Chung I. If I run China politically, the Council will have no choice but to turn to my guidance and control.)” Outside the room of horrors was the party of horrors. Every turn, every person there was someone to eye him critically, telling him he did not belong there without words. Being a tourist was hard, he thought. Somehow, through the pushing and confusion, the six footer found himself in the middle of it all. Dodge that person, waiter with a full platter coming through. Most of the guests were a foot shorter than he was, so there was no way of missing him. Little scowls here and there, dancers over there, now there’s a dragon-coming-this-way! “Excuse me, dude.” It apologized when it bumped the disoriented man. Leonardo had to double take. Did that dragon just say ‘dude’? Taking a chance, he grabbed hold of the mouth of the beast and opened it wide for him to see inside. The person doubled back. He was white, much like himself but a hue darker. Freckles, blue eyes, but you can't miss the orange bandana around his eyes. “Mikey?” Leo questioned in surprise. “Do I know you?” The orange masked man lifted a brow and zoomed up close to the other. With a closer study, he realized the blue eyes and noticeable scar across one of them. “Oh, Bro, Leo hey!” He exclaimed. “You look good.” “What are you doing here?” “Rescuing you!” “Leo!” Another familiar voice. From behind Mikey, a taller yet lighter skinned fellow emerged with glasses. “Donnie?” He began to search further into the costume for the rest. As word quickly spread Leo was in front of them, a brown haired, muscular woman was followed by a red banded and even more muscular male. “That's… 1,2,3,4… All of you are in there?” There was a mutual head nod from every one of them. “Yep! So, what's going on? Anything suspicious?” Mikey whispered in a sneaky, childish voice. He leaned in close and put a hand up to the side of his mouth to make it “private”, creating a harsh sound on the last word. The only thing it did was make his big brother back off and wave his hand to get rid of the stink of the young one’s breath. “No, but…” he stopped fanning. “How'd you guys know about us being here? And how are you people too?” “Venus told Don.” Raph stated blatantly. “The old guy gave us magic charm necklace things.” “She knows nothing about this so not a word!” Donnie dropped in. He did not want to be the one that told Venus’ secret. Miwa already volunteered to take the blame. “Where's Venus anyways? Is she safe? It doesn't look” she paused to criticize the nature of the surrounding women. “‘woman friendly’ in here.” “Not sure. Some old guy took her away for something. I don't know what a courtesan is, anyways.” “She's posing as a courtesan?!” Mona pushed the other two brothers as she pushed forward, answering in shock. “Yeah?” He replied, quite unsure how to go about this situation. “Leo, a courtesan is a Chinese prostitute!” She exclaimed as quietly as she could. The eyes of every single English speaking boy doubled in size. She’s posing as a what?! “Whoa. Never thought it would come to this.” Mikey commented. “One day she's playing with dolls and now she's dancing on poles. So sad.” The orange banded boy dropped his head low in honor of the innocent Venus de Milo. Donatello grabbed the tails of his mask. Pulling them back, they forced his head up. Neck curling all the way back and looking at his brother towering over him, he listened. “She's pretending, Mikey.” Donnie assured. “You sure? It's always the good girls that go bad.” The older brother let go of the tails to playfully knock his head forward with his nonsense. “She said just go with it for her cover.” Leonardo explained. “Besides, this guy was beyond ancient. If anything goes haywire, she can handle it.” Mona Lisa was still not satisfied, as noted by the cynical expression she presented them with. The older turtle wanted to keep Venus out of any trouble if she were to pop back up and find out they're here. Of course her cover is not in any shape or form an intention. Leo saw the way she resented the fact, groaning as she changed her ways to fit the part. He was quick to defend her position.“She was using her senses to flush out the hole that the Foot are hiding in. Said something about mischief and that guy came by. Surely, she left to follow a lead.” “Alright. We got to keep moving.” Leonardo couldn't tell what the rush was. It was when Mona pointed with a timid finger and Leo turned to see. Yeah, it looked a little weird for the man to be carrying quite a conversation with the performing dragon. Yeah, better move on. “Keep us posted.” With that, she and Raphael were pushed towards the back in their original positions. The eldest could tell as the back end became full again. “Yes ma’am.” He saluted. Donnie backed up to disappear as well so they could roam around the room. Before he could release the grip on the mouth, Mikey stopped him just before he could. “Kung Hay Fat Choy won ton soup!” He whispered harshly. Leo raised a brow. Was he speaking Chinese? “Hai…?” His answer in Japanese, but he really didn't understand a word he said, or believe it was actually a Chinese phrase for that matter. Mikey rolled his eyes sarcastically. “That's my code for you got your woman stolen by an old dude.” He mocked, snickering inside when he let Leo close the mouth back up. “Go jump on the rails.” He threatened as the costume backed up and skipped away. “(Were you planning to kill Chung I?)” Venus tried to keep most of the stress of her voice at bay. At this part of the dance, her back was turned. One foot up in a crane pose and fan opened up, hanging over her head, tears tried to escape their ducts, but she wouldn’t allow it. She just needed a little more time from looking at him in the face to suck them back in. “(What was that?)” Please don’t make her ask again. She changed poses to keep her from shaking her head. “(If he hadn’t left, would you have killed him to gain that power through the council?)” That came out a little stronger than she had anticipated. “(I couldn’t.) He admitted. From the tone of his voice, he was very sincere. Venus was unknowingly still when he heard his answer. It was quite a surprise to her. (His children would never forgive me. Strange creatures they are. The young one is a magician as well, but she has no clue. And her oldest sister,)” an inappropriate chuckle. (“ a disgrace to the family. Quits everything for she was impregnated before marriage. Not only that, but she killed the child. A pity really, but who��s to say we should have more snakes like her running around our village.)” He was asking for an amen, but would not get one out of the entertainer. Can she beat him up right now? Every bone in her body screamed to stay cool and not blow her cover, but then again there was this other nice voice screaming ‘DRAG HIM!!!’. She kept her dance, yet it was less elegant and more simple to execute. Repeatedly, her bottom lip was chewed, fighting back every motive to break, “(Mona Lisa is not a snake.)” she bit her lip back to keep her from letting her feelings get in the way. “(What?)” The old man straightened up in his seat. “(She’s not a snake.)” she repeated. “(No, no. I didn’t mention her name to you, did I?)” Oh my gosh, he got out of his seat. She’s done it now. Khan approached quietly, head cocked to one side in wonder. “(No, you didn’t, but-.)” She tried to keep dancing, looking as innocent as possible.“(I have heard of her tale. The two reptilian sisters of the brush.)” she explained. Khan came closer and closer to her. “(Nobody should know of them outside of the village.)” Venus straightened up when he drew a hand towards her. There was no glow and no tension in his fingers. He bought it! But now, he was getting really close.Closer than what Venus would ever call comfortable to a menace like him. “(Well, someone must be leaking this information to the wrong people.)” How can she talk so smoothly while being forced to stare into the eyes of an evil man? His hand touched her face, fingers caressing her cheeks. She wanted to scream ‘back up!’ but could not. Could this possibly be how Mona felt way back when she was being mind controlled. Khan was now her Bebop as he stared into her beautiful eyes. The girl’s breathing hitched for she had not anticipated his old fingers dragging down to her jaw and down her neck. Was he really going to do this now? How can she get out of this? She certainly did not want to get this far with him. Just get some information and make a lame excuse to leave. How could the time get away from her. As she thought of a plan, Khan made his hands and eyes go down her collarbone. With prying eyes, he took notice of a piece of stringed leather around her neck, hidden within her robe. With full right to do so, he slipped his hand shallowly into the fold of her robe. Venus had no idea what to do as he made his hand inside her clothing. Suddenly, his hand clasped together with immense force and pulled at the charm, undoing the knot around her neck. “(Mèilì mèilì!)” he shouted, glaring at the stolen charm. He felt something off about this girl when she mentioned the unknown. When he looked up, he was less than surprised who it had been. What he saw was no longer the golden curled, dark skinned girl. Now, there was an anthropomorphic turtle he had know for so long, but not her cal stature was replaced with ever flowing tears. “(How could you? I thought you were our friend!)” She screamed. Khan took a couple steps back, quite affected by her pitches. “(You don't understand, foolish child. With the council dwindling, the only way to keep it alive is to take over China.)” “(You just took ten steps to solve two.)” “(If I rule China, that makes me automatically in power over everything. The council refused to have a single leader and would rather work together. It's not working! We're dying! Mystic arts will be gone if I don't do this!)” He bellowed. “(But taking over China, under the Foot clan!?)” “(A small inconvenience, but I'll do whatever it takes to keep the council alive.)” “(There's other ways to fix it.)” Venus shook her head, This just couldn’t be. All the lies… it just couldn’t. (“ I'm here now, let me help! Chung I was my father, I'm sure that-.)” “(You are not the biological daughter of Chung I!)” He cut off in distress. “( He has no heir, no continuance of his great blood! You have nothing of him! Neither you or your sisterly snake!)” Out of stress, he threw the magic charm away from him on the other side of the room. “(Don't do this! I know there's good in you-.)” “(My “good” is only available if they would let me be in charge of them! If they don't do it willingly, I shall do it by force!)” “(I'm not going to allow it!)” “(I did not ask for your approval, child!)” “(Do yourself a favor, and leave. Now!)” “(Over my dead body!)” Suddenly, her hands glowed. Khan was ready for a blast of some sorts, but instead the aura was in another part of the room. It surrounded the charm and lifted it. The old man allowed it for there was no other use for the charm that could stop his plans, Merely a cover up item and nothing more. Soon, it's magic will have no effect. She brought it to her. When it hit her chest, her magic created a new knot around her neck and cloaked her with her human body. “(That can be arranged.)” A yellow energy orb began to form. Once fully charged, he threw it at her. Venus was quick to counter with one of her own. It hit a little later than his, so the aftermath was closer to her, The power sent her back, but she kept on her feet. “(You are the only magician to know of my intentions. I was able to mask any emotion sense for the most part. Congratulations.)” he chuckled, taking strong steps to the side. He wanted to be in control of the situation, thus giving him the illusion of it early in the fight. Quite clever. “(A sense I've used quite often.)” She smirked before sending a surprise back. The ray of light was hit by his own magic who shied it away from him. A glimmer of it, however, marked up the side of his body. The old man put a hand over the wound as an impulse. It stung, but not enough to bring him down, He looked back into the eyes of the young girl. She stood so proud, so strong. How cute. “(I can tell.)” He sneered. “(Amazing that someone could like you so much in such a way. Maybe even love.)” He had used the same intruding senses on her. She knew who he was talking about, but she couldn't’ let that phase her. He knew she was insecure and intended on using that against her. Venus had to shut it out. She knew she wasn’t ugly, she knew that she was special, she knew that she was beautiful and there was a whole list of those who think the same. She stood her ground and smiled. Both fists were clenched up to her chin. “(Amazing how someone as respected as you could corrupt.)” One by one, people of the party began to quiet their chatter. When one asked their comrades to stop and listen to the weird muffling sounds, they shushed their friends and then forth. The rotation got around to the middle of the room when Leonardo took notice of the discrepancy. With the room quieted, there were some sounds he could make out. The sound of what a cartoon gun would make in an old cartoon, grunting, but nothing giving them direction as to where it's coming from since no damage was made on the building despite its shakes. The echoing of the sound distorted and was deceiving to the ear. Leo knew. He recognized that sound and knew exactly where it was coming from. People were apologized to frantically as he pushed the crowd and parted them to make way for him. As he tore closer to the outer ring, the people took notice and moved out of his way. Leonardo was at the base of the stairs when another rumble shook up the building. His head shot up when the sound of splitting wood cackled. A yellow light caused the audience to react violently, especially when a body was flying in the air. Leonardo charged those stairs, gaining as much momentum as he can. Venus seemingly lifeless body was doomed to fall flat on the unforgiving ground. At the top, the athlete leaped. Gaining a substantial amount of airtime, he grabbed the girl and snatched her down from the splintering wood. The people did not know how, but Leonardo used his shell to cover Venus from the falling wood. When the last of it took its turn to fall, he lifted himself off of her. She wasn't bad. Scrapes from the wood was definitely there in the appropriate places. “Leo!” Her vision cleared to see the worried turtle looking over her. “Whoa! Venus!” He didn't know if she could stand, so he placed his hand gingerly under her head. Her eyes squeezed in pain from being slammed against such heavy wood. Surely, without a shell she would have been done for. “You alright?” “It's Khan!” She forced out. Her hand was offered, indicating that she wanted to stand. Leonardo kept his hand behind her head and put the other in her own as they both pulled to get the turtle girl to stand. “Khan? Who's Khan?” She was unsteady and had to lean on him for support. To answer his question, the older man emerged from the sawdust, standing in the middle of the dusty room. A few men rushed towards him. The older gentleman only had to point directly to the two diversified people to divert the men’s attentions. “Oh boy.” “(Kill her!)” Khan ordered. Swiftly, the men sprinted, flipping down the stairs and made a beeline towards the two despite the crowd’s fears. “What'd he say?” He pushed Venus behind him, pushing them back from the men. “He ordered them to kill me.” The turtle girl stumbled, in which she grabbed the rim of his shell to keep herself up. She really was banged up pretty bad. The turtle before her reached inside his robe and withdrew two katanas from their sheaths at his sides. “Not today, they won't!” He affirmed, squatting low and clenching the blades tight. The first to reach him drew a single sword from the sheath at the side of his hip. When he came down, the metal rang across the room. The second the people saw a sword fight break out, they panicked and fled for the exits (shouldn’t they have ran when Venus’ body flung from a wall?). The Foot member, totally unaware that he was fighting a turtle, went to go in for a punch with his empty hand when he saw the opportunity. Crack! The felling of his hand faded away. He retracted it, holding it in his other hand very carefully. Then, dazed, he looked up at Leonardo. The caucasian man turned to look at his back, very confused as to why he did that. But then, he remembered. The mere thought of it brought a devious smile to his face. “My turn.” he spoke slyly. Oh man, how the soldier looked ready to cry when Leo swung his sword again. In pain, he released his hand to defend himself with his sword. They metal slipped off one another as the soldier went through with the motions, opening up his back to his opponent. One good elbow in him back brought him to the ground. “It's ninja time!” Mikey called to the furthest in the costume. Following the sound of grunts and metal clangs, he located the commotion through the crowds of people and viewed his now fighting brother. “Hey, hey, whoa!” He called as the family withdrew their weaponry and gripped the top of the costume. “What?!” Mona shrieked, both annoyed and in a hurry. “Can we pop out like the Huns from Mulan? Just straight up ‘ARRRGH’?!” Mikey pitched with enthusiasm. Before an answer could be made, the three taller siblings blankly pushed up the roof of the costume and turned it over. No fancy reveal, no screaming. Just… stood there. They took a second to glower at him before charging into the fray. Michelangelo was left behind to pout and look back at the costume. What he couldn’t see were to two Foot soldiers advancing towards him. His body sulked as he withdrew the nunchucks at his side. “I never” He began to swing his arms and chucks around wildly as an upset child would, “get to do what I want!” He whined. A moan from behind made him jump and turn around. In a fighting stance, he was ready to take on the ghost who yearned. A little sight down revealed to him the two outcold Foot Soldiers he unknowingly beat up. Michelangelo made an ‘o’ with his mouth, holding a fist to it with widened eyes. Man, he did them dirty. “Yeah Boy!” He shouted. “What’s up?!” He howled over them. The turtle gave them another cocky expression and gave his nunchucks a whirl before hustling over to his family. Khan emerged from the sanctity of the room. His eyes gazed around the chaos that surrounded him. There were more fighting against him than he had thought. More colorful characters were added into the picture. From careful observation, he can see the necklaces around their necks. More disguises, it may be. “(Remove their necklaces!)” He shouted from his spot. The orders were easier said than done. Three were off to the side, trying to fill in their quota first by taking down the biggest one with the red mask wound around his head. Each took a turn to try to kick or punch the person, but it proved too difficult as he dodged every single one. It also seemed that he was smiling, highly enjoying their demise. “Nice Dragon kick. Ah, sweet double Phoenix punch.” He commented sarcastically. “ Hey! You know this one?” A 180 twist of the hips granted a flying leg to the now flying men to the ground. Another off to the side, twirling and swinging a Bo staff that defected their swords and took a jab at their soft stomachs, lurching them forward in pain. Despite such views, he had more and more men. Those colorful characters could not last too long. In the corner of his eye, he can see a splash of light blue on the floor. Battered, Venus was still suffering from the effects of her earlier defeat. Khan grinned before glowing. “(Let's take it to my domain.)” He whispered to himself. His eyes began to glow white, and in return, Venus’ did as well. The world around her disappeared, transporting her to a place far beyond comprehension. The skies, if they could be called that, was a gradient of a dark coral and white. There was no floor to touch, in which she was floating in the atmosphere. Despite the colors, items and pieces of sets that made up the previous ballroom floated around them in a chaotic state. She had to question: Why am I here? Her answer came when a quick flash of a bright light simmered down to show the body of Khan. He appeared stoic and strong, looking over her pitifully, seeing a broken bird on the ground. She growled at his presence. “(Didn't think you'd survive a physical plane?)” she mocked, straightening herself up. The older man chuckled to himself, humoring the child. From her groggy expression, she was still feeling the effects on her body. “(Anyone can kill physically. This will be far more amusing to me.)” “(Bring it on!)” Little bursts of energy flung from her hands, hurdling in his direction. Creating a type of shield around his body, Khan deflected then once they hit. Behind his wall, the sound and impact of the balls vibrated against it, feeling its power indirectly. When the hail was over, it became his turn to retaliate. His entire body glowed yellow as the aura surrounded him. Only one of his hands was more concentrated than the other while the power source built up. At its peak, he forced the beam onto her. The girl was quick to react to the Magic by placing a shield of his own. As the yellow clashed with the blue, a blue aura spilled fiercely off the sides of which her shield took up. Four separate bursts fled from the sides, aiming at the offend man. He stopped his magic to defend himself from her own. Each burst was caught in both of his crossed hands and feet, but it did push him back on the plane. “(I must admit, you are raw.)” He levitated back up to her height. Venus stood ready. It was quite a big power surge that drained her of the majority of her energy. Khan knew it and she had to hold herself up. “(but out of my league.)” The girl’s eyes widened in horror. A bright yellow bubble surrounded him. Bolts of lightning and other explanatory lines ran around him in a storm. She had never witnessed magic in this type of state. That was the moment Venus knew. She was going to lose this battle. In the real world, things were getting a little better. The small family was getting tired, but the soldiers weren’t the best fighters to go up against. They still havent figured why some of their tactics didn’t work when they hit them in the right spots, meaning they have not successfully ripped off a single one’s necklace yet. But that was going to change very quickly. At the moment, Mona was having a wonderful time with the boys. A couple cute little team-ups here and there, but mostly independent. Currently, she was finishing off the last of her opponents. She jumped over the charging man, pushing off his back. When she hit the ground, her leg knocked him off his leg with a single swing. His back hit hard, choking him with the impact. The girl smiled at his discomfort. Leonardo approached her, but not to give her some praise, explanations, or deliver a witty phrase. He noticed Khan standing at the top of the stairway. A blank expression followed by white glowing eyes kept him still. Coming close, Michelangelo was busy using the pathway as a place to run to the other side of the room to assist Raphael. “Mikey!” He shouted. The boy stopped on on leg. A couple jumps forward on it kept him from falling over as his back leaned back to see what he wanted. “He’s the bad guy!” He explained. “Khan?” Mona shrieked. Leonardo nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder. It shocked her tremendously. Mikey was brought to the attention of the still man. Since he wasn’t posing any threat at the moment, he came up close and sneaked a peak of his face. “So?” he asked nonchalantly. “He’s right there! Clock him already!” “Yo! I'm not gonna punch an old dude!” “But he's evil!” “So?!” this time, it was a lot more sassy and resistant. “That's a bit of a double standard.” Donnie added before swinging his staff at the few of the standing Foot soldiers. “Look. I'm not gonna hit him, and y'all aren't either. Leave it to V.” Leonardo raised a brow. “What are you talking about?” Mona had to guide his eyes by pointing to the turtle girl hiding close by. Although the shadow hid her body, they could see those bright eyes glowing vividly. “She's fighting him mentally. What if she messes up his brain or something?” Raphael asked when he hoisted two men in both hands. As their fate would have it, their bodies clashed together. Outcold, Raphael dropped them like rags. “He's old anyways, probably forgot to turn the sink off at home.” Mikey defended. He put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. Before he could touch him, a shocking sensation pulsed through his arm. The turtle yelped and gripped his upset arm. Curious, and stupid, he tried it again. The same results occurred. So much for the punching plan. Harmless on the outside, they couldn’t not imagine what was happening on the other side. Venus was down. She could not protect herself from what Khan had delivered. It did not kill her, but she was sure he was going to finish her off. The entirety of her body either burned or stung from the unknown properties inflicted upon her. The man stood over her, watching her try to get up but definitely couldn’t. “(If you had just let me help the people, you would not be in this predicament.)” He glowed once more. The same unforgiving orbs of light surrounded him again. This was it. Venus, seeing her fate, put her head back down. Khan was not the last person she wanted to see. Instead, she’d rather remember the life she’s led. She couldn’t recall the wonderful life in China without Khan somehow being present. Instead, she recalled New York. The amazing lights and culture diversity. The adventures, the lessons, Splinter, her new brothers, Mona. Such beautiful figures. “(Give my apologies to Chung I when you see him.)” He asked. Khan unleashed his light in close proximity. The brightness was too hot to watch as it hit the girl. Even he had to back up from the heat. This was burning her alive. Both guilt and relief washed over him as the light began to dim. Venus as a threat was gone, but surely her sister and allies will come after him. He thought of his plans that his empire will be much bigger by the time they figure it out. The light simmered away and what he saw was shocking. The yellow light slipped off the rainbow colored bubble that covered the girl. Venus was in just as much shock as he when she looked up and saw that she was still alive. “(It is over, Khan.)” a deep-bass voice echoed. Suddenly, the invisible figures of twenty numbers revealed themselves. It was the wizard’s council. Everyone wielded a hand that outstretched their colorful auras to protect the turtle girl. Venus wanted to cry at the arrival of her salvation as they stood up to Khan. “(Gentlemen! Please! I was only trying to help!)” He nervously backed up. “(By attempting to kill the daughter of Chung I?)” One accused, offering a hand to the proof below them. “(It's not what it looks like! I swear!)” “(That's not what he told us.)” Another chimed in. “(Who?)” Khan asked. No answer. Just a squint of the eyes. Khan took the time to try to figure it out while one floated down to Venus. “(Mei Pei Chi,)” The field around her dispersed as he came to her aid. He turned her around carefully. Her eyes were partially shut from fear and happiness. “(will you help us?)” he asked, which was also his way of asking if she was alright. He helped her to her feet when she gave an unsure nod. He noticed her struggle, but she had to stand. The man let her lean her heavy figure against him. Slowly, she rose her head from her chest. What she saw was the most promising sight she had seen. With the council behind them, Khan stood, shook in terror. Now, it was her turn to get back at him. “(Goodbye, Khan.)” One granted as he raised his hand. The rest followed suit. The man who held Venus held up Venus’ arm so she may participate in his demise. Much obliged, she tried to contain herself. “(No! Don't do this! You all need me! I was trying to help!)” Nothing was going to stop them once their iridescent colors flung from out of their souls. Khan’s single magic couldn’t help the twenty-something others that assaulted him. His screams of anguish filled the space as he doubled over from their power. The next phase was prepared and ready. The man turned to Venus. When she caught his gaze, he gave a nod and they both looked back at Khan. He started his magic. With his hand around her wrist, the green color surged through hers like a glowing spiderweb up to her hands. It was charging her own, combining their powers. A look of awe took over her face as she saw a teal orb form in the palm of her hand. Longer and longer, the power built. When she saw it fit, they released it together. The bolt smacked into Khan. Louder shouts emerged for a second until it became silent. The magician's stopped their flow of magic and lowered their hands. Before there was nothing. What was left of Khan was gone. Just as the man disappeared, so did their surroundings. Her eyes were blurry, but she could make out a few heads over her. A couple blinks, her vision began to sharpen. “You ok?” It was a caucasian woman, but that pink around her eyes and long hair could only be one person. It was her sister. How she got there, she didn’t know, but she sure was glad she was with her. From what she could tell, she lay in her lap, in her arms as she gazed upon her worryingly. “Mona?” She asked, voice cracked. A subtle nod. “Yeah. Yeah I'm fine.” Not really, but better than not. “Good.” Mona’s voice dropped low. Venus wanted to raise a confused brow, but rather waited. “If I catch you actin like a h**, we’re gonna have some serious problems!” So much attitude! “Missed you too.” Venus muttered. She tried to sit up, using Mona’s assistance. “What happened in there?” Leonardo asked. He was squatting besides her, along with the rest of the squad who had mysteriously showed up just as Mona had. “I punched an old guy.” She did not want to tell a long tale, so this was explaination enough for her. Mikey’s face built up. He sucked in his lips while forcing air against his closed lips. “I TOLD YOU!” He bursted, shouting into Leo’s ear. The eldest turtle closed his eyes from the impact of his voice. A general laugh humored him after a hard fight. Donatello stood up first to extend a hand to her. Venus took the friendly gesture. As she rose out of Mona’s lap, she tried the best she could to help her sister up without hurting her. A couple grunts lead her to her feet. Donnie held her against him until she hung an arm around him shoulders. She smiled. “Was this your doing?” She quizzed. “Uh- uh actually, your friend Miwa called us.” The words spilled quickly out of his mouth. The girl nodded. “You’re a terrible liar.” she giggled. With that quick, shocked look in his eyes, he couldn’t hide that from her. “And thank you.” She squeezed him gently with the arm around her shoulders as a type of hug. He smiled warmly from her affections. He knew he made the right choice. They heard footsteps click against the tile floors. The family shut their heads up. The three boys surrounded their downed sister in protection as the man approached. It was Hong, the man who assisted Venus in the other plane. To call off the dogs, she placed a hand on Leonardo’s shoulder. He turned to see her calmed expression on her face. He then called off Michelangelo and Raphael as they let the man gingerly approach them. “(Khan is no longer a threat to the world.)” he informed with the most peaceful mind. “(Where'd he go?)” Mona asked. “(Where he can no longer do any harm.)” “(You mean…?)” Her finger pointed to the sky. The brothers followed it, wondering to what she was talking to him about. Nothing but a roof. The man chuckled briefly. “(No, a different dimension.)” “(Thank you so much, Hong.)” Venus bowed her head. He returned the favor by bowing fully for his friend could not. “(How did you know I was in trouble and that is be here?)” Another question when he rose. “(An old friend came to us.)” His explanation was followed by a knowing smile. The girls looked to one another and smiled, then back to him, stifling their giggles. “(I must help clean up this mess. Excuse me girls.)” Coming in from behind, a couple more council members showed up by the doors to direct work for hired help to clean the mess Khan inflicted upon the gorgeous building. “So…” Michelangelo broke the silence. “Can we go stop to eat?”

#tmnt #tmntfanfiction #tmntleonardo #tmntvenus #tmntmichelangelo #tmntdonatello #tmntmonalisa #tmntraphael #homefront

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