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#it kept correcting to duck face and i seriously considered leaving it
kpopfanfictrash · 3 years
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Raise the Barre (Halloween: Jimin’s POV)
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Author: kpopfanfictrash
Pairing: Jimin / Reader
Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU
Warnings: Underage drinking, sexual tension, Y/N’s skirt is short
Word Count: 4,107
Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.
Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  
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You were a terrible flip cup player.
This was all Jimin could think while he watched you from across the room, one shoulder leaned against the white, stucco wall. You sat casually on the couch, laughing at something Brian had said – a dead giveaway of inebriation, if Jimin had ever seen one. Humor wasn’t among Brian’s commonly listed attributes.
An unfamiliar tightness spread through his chest while Jimin watched until finally, he forced himself to look away.
There was nothing he needed to worry about with Brian, of course. Brian was hooking up with someone from Redfield and besides, if Jimin needed to worry about anyone, it’d be your boyfriend.
Finn, as you’d said on the drive home from the club.
Just remembering that night made Jimin’s head hurt. It’d been two weeks at this point, but he still could remember it as though it were yesterday. He remembered the tightness in your voice when he’d answered the phone, the panic Jimin had felt driving through the streets of the city, and the immediate relief he’d gotten upon arriving and seeing you in one piece.
And then you’d said the word to him – boyfriend.
Jimin remembered being stunned for a few, eternity-stretching seconds.
He still wasn’t sure how he’d missed such a vital piece of information. For a month prior, his crush on you had been steadily building, which meant Jimin had been oddly attentive to what you were doing. He’d never once seen you duck out of class for a phone call. No one had ever picked you up from the studio, nor had he seen you out on dates around campus.
A few guys had even expressed interest in dating you at the start of the year, but you hadn’t seemed interested, so talk of your relationship status had gradually petered out.
Exhaling gently, Jimin pushed himself from the wall and entered the kitchen. Filling his drink up again, he glanced up when Sabrina walked into the room. Tightly, Jimin smiled.
He and Sabrina had hooked up at the beginning of the semester, which had led to one of the most awkward run-ins of Jimin’s existence. Sabrina had been leaving his room when you decided to arrive, and Jimin had spent the entire encounter wearing his boxers. Which was great. At the time, he’d merely shrugged it off as uncomfortable, but now the memory continued to grate on his conscience.
Sabrina had texted him a few weeks ago, inviting him over but Jimin had declined. He’d told her they were better off as friends, at which point she’d simply decided to ghost him. Jimin hadn’t really cared at the time – it was around then he’d started having feelings for you.
Feelings which turned out to be pointless since you already had a boyfriend.
Gaze lowering, Jimin saw what Sabrina was wearing and couldn’t help it – he laughed. “A ballerina?” he asked, unable to stop himself. “Really?”
Sabrina scowled and poured herself a drink. “A short-notice invitation means you get a short-notice costume. Okay?”
Jimin’s brow furrowed. “Short notice?”
“Yeah.” She paused. “I, uh… wasn’t going to come until yesterday.”
Jimin wisely chose not to comment, shrugging in response as they left the kitchen. In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw you looking at him, but when he glanced up, Jimin saw you stand from the couch. Noelle was calling you over, waving you into another game of flip cup.
Sighing, Jimin set down his newly filled cup. It wasn’t as though you needed a white knight, or anything but someone at this party had to stay sober. It wouldn’t be you if you kept pounding drinks the way you were and so, Jimin relinquished his own.
Frowning in concentration, you set your cup down on the table and attempted to flip. When you succeeded, you cheered and spun around in a circle, causing the end of your skirt to flare up.
Jimin swallowed, hard.
Of all the nights, you’d chosen to dress that way tonight. Truthfully, you wore less clothes to your ballet classes – only a leotard and tights – but Jimin was a professional, and there was nothing sexy about Mr. Vlad shouting corrections at him while sweat dripped into places Jimin thought best not to mention.
Now though, you were wearing the shortest dress Jimin had ever seen and it was making him slowly lose his mind. The flimsy material barely covered the tops of your thighs, which made Jimin want to lift you onto the counter, press his hands into the available skin, push your dress higher and –
Exhaling roughly, Jimin shoved a hand through his hair. He needed to get ahold of himself. It’d been too long since he’d last spoken and now, Sabrina was watching him curiously. Before Jimin could look away, her gaze followed to you.
“Interesting.” Sabrina arched a brow. “Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Jimin muttered.
For a moment, he considered drinking the cup he’d just set down.
Sabrina gave a small laugh but, oddly enough, there was no bite to it. “So, that’s why you said you didn’t want to hook up.”
Jimin gave a small shrug, his right shoulder rising and falling. “That, and other reasons.”
Sabrina nodded. She took a long sip of her drink before she walked off, coming to a stop beside Jasmine across the room.
Jimin was left alone with his thoughts, until Hoseok waved him over to play the next game. Jimin joined, playing with water and by the time Ubers were called for the club, he felt decidedly more sober than an hour prior.
This was in stark contrast to you, who’d apparently decided to leave your coat in Paulo’s apartment. Jimin noticed this as soon as he stepped outside, spotting you shivering as he approached the curb.
“Y/N?” he asked, coming to a stop. “Hey, where’s your coat?”
“Inside,” you said, teeth chattering. “I’m fine, though. I’m fine!”
Eying you suspiciously, Jimin scanned the sidewalk. “Where’s Paulo?” he said. “I’ll grab him, we can get your coat before we go –”
You huffed, an impatient sound as you grabbed his sleeve and dragged him towards the car. “The Uber’s already here, though,” you argued. “I’ll be fine from here to the club!”
If it hadn’t been further to Paulo’s apartment than to the car, Jimin would have protested, but as it was, he simply sighed and followed suit. You pulled open the door to the SUV, clambering inside to sit in the last row. Glancing over his shoulder, Jimin realized Hoseok and Noelle were waiting, which meant he’d need to join you in the back.
Squeezing into the small space beside you, Jimin tried his best to stay separate, but to no avail. The backseat was tiny, and his left knee pressed to yours, fingers fumbling at your side when he buckled his seatbelt.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, squishing further away.
“Jimin.” You arched a brow. “Are we going to go through this again? Your hands have been in way more inappropriate places than that this semester.”
That said, you grabbed hold of the middle seat and hoisted yourself upwards.
Jimin’s mind seemed to short-circuit.
Forget about your teasing tone – now your delectable, barely-clothed ass hovered before his face. As Jimin had previously noted, your dress was very short. The skirt barely covered your panties and from where he was sitting, Jimin could tell they were light blue in color, edged with lace.
Fingers digging into his palms, Jimin forced himself to look away. It’d be a long time before he forgot that particular visual. The car pulled from the curb, making his stomach lurch while he fought to stay in control.
You had a boyfriend, Jimin reminded himself as he stared out the window. You were off-limits, so he needed to stop thinking about you in that way. This could only end badly if it continued, but he still couldn’t keep his disloyal heart from racing.
Plopping down in your seat, you turned sideways to face him. “Um,” you said, seemingly oblivious to Jimin’s inner anguish. “So, what happened to your teeth?”
Jimin forced himself to look sideways. “Casualty of flip cup,” he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster. “One of them fell out during the game and I couldn’t find where it rolled.”
You frowned, seriously considering his predicament and Jimin’s heart did a flip. The most adorable dimple had appeared in your brow and he fervently wished he could smooth it away.
“Well, that’s okay,” you said slowly. “You can just be one of those vampires who blend in with normal humans. You know, the kind whose fangs only come out when they want to bite someone.”
Do you like that? The thought entered Jimin’s mind before he could stop it, but he luckily managed not to say it out loud.
With a wan smile, he arched his brow. “That’s true. Lucky for you, I’m not hungry.”
Well. He kind of managed not to say it out loud.
“Lucky for me? Lucky for you. My blood is about half-alcohol right now. If you drank my blood, you’d be a very silly vampire.”
The idea of this made you laugh, tipping your head back and flashing a white row of teeth. Jimin couldn’t help but smile, a confusing mix of endearment and alarm swirling through him. He wondered how much you’d had to drink before you left Paulo’s.
He hadn’t been watching you the entire night, after all.
Only most of it.
“A silly vampire, huh?” he mused. “Damn, Y/N – when was the last time you went out? Your tolerance is shit.”
“I know,” you sighed. “I haven’t drunk much this semester. Too much dance, too little time. I think the last time I went out was –”
Jimin winced when Noelle pulled open the door, a blast of cold air hitting him in the face.
“We’re here!” she squealed, launching herself outside.
Jimin blinked, attempting to pull himself together. You’d stopped talking mid-sentence, sitting up straighter and Jimin felt a vague twinge of annoyance at the car ride ending so soon. Then, he noticed you shivering.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked gently. “I can give you, uh…”
“Your shirt?” you said wryly, clambering over the seat. “Then you’d be shirtless, Park. Let’s think this through.”
Stifling his laugh, Jimin ducked his head as he followed. You were right, after all. He didn’t have anything to give you, even if he wished he did.
“Come on!” you yelled, starting to run towards the club.
Jimin purposefully hung back, waiting for Hoseok before he made his entrance. He needed a few moments alone, needed some distance between you. It was embarrassing how quickly you managed to tear down his walls.
Jimin had always been drawn to you, but this was something else entirely. Over the past several weeks, you’d let your guard down and Jimin had realized exactly what he’d missed out on. He’d seen how funny you were, how determined, how smart and how fierce you could be. And now that he’d seen it all, Jimin found himself wanting more.
He couldn’t have more though since you were already taken. You already had a boyfriend, which meant Jimin needed to back off.
Bitterness tinged his thoughts as he entered the club, although his eyes quickly widened when he saw the décor. This place was nice. Noelle had seriously undersold her brother’s connections. He and Hoseok weren’t even asked to show their fake IDs at the door; they were simply waved in.
When he and Hoseok reached their reserved table, Jimin entered the tail end of a conversation. Jasmine wanted to dance, which Irene and Paulo readily agreed to.
“What about you, Y/N?” asked Irene, turning your way. “You in?”
It seemed as though you were about to say yes when Jimin saw you glance at the floor. Something in your expression wavered and after a moment, you slowly exhaled.
“That’s okay,” you said, turning back. “I think I’m going to stay here for a while. I’ll join you later!”
Irene frowned, but finally nodded and left with the rest. Hoseok followed suit, punching Jimin in the arm and yelling something about shots. Jimin told him he’d be down in a second, even though he knew this was a lie.
You sat down alone in the booth, staring at the dance floor and looking vaguely miserable. Something unfamiliar unfurled in Jimin’s chest – protectiveness, or something like it. Before he could talk himself out of it, Jimin lowered himself beside you.
“You didn’t want to dance?” he asked.
Surprised, you glanced sideways and realized Jimin had stayed.
Looking away, Jimin began to undo his cuffs. His heartbeat hammered his ribcage, and he was deathly afraid you’d hear and know his intentions were far from honorable. There was nothing remotely close to friendship on Jimin’s mind tonight. He was kidding himself if he said there was.
“No,” you said with a sigh, crossing your legs. Jimin’s jaw tensed, remembering the flash of blue panties from earlier. “I just don’t really feel like it.”
“Is this the whole hating clubs thing again?”
“Kind of.” You shrugged. “I don’t know. Club dancing isn’t like normal dancing, you know?”
Bewildered, Jimin finally looked up and met your gaze. He didn’t understand why you felt this way but could only assume your boyfriend had something to do with it. Club dancing was fun when you were with the right people.
“It is when you’re at a club full of dancers,” he said, pointing towards the floor.
Following his hand, you saw Jasmine dancing onstage like a crazed, Disney vision. A smile crossed your lips and you nodded before you turned back.
“Okay,” you admitted. “That does look like fun. The last time I was at a club was with Finn.”
Jimin blinked, attempting to piece together what one statement had to do with the other. “Sorry,” he said. “What?”
Before he could move though, you leaned forward and now Jimin could smell your perfume, your shampoo, and the faintest hint of musk beneath that.
“In the cab,” you said, completely unaware of what you were doing to him. “You asked me when I last went out. It was that night… um…” Trailing off, your gaze flicked to his. “The night you came and picked me up.”
Jimin seemed to stop breathing.
What he needed to do was leave, he decided. Get up and leave, maybe go down to the dance floor. He could dance with someone else, go home with someone else – bury himself inside someone else and try and forget about you.
The moment this thought crossed his mind, the utter wrongness of it tore through his chest. He wanted you. Not someone else.
Abruptly, Jimin made his decision and stood, holding out a hand.
You stared at this in confusion. “What are you doing?”
Feeling slightly foolish, Jimin retracted the gesture. “Taking you down to the dance floor,” he insisted. “Come on, Y/N! You don’t have to give out dry lap dances, or whatever.”
The expression of betrayal you adopted was enough to make Jimin smile.
“Hey!” you blurted. “You said you’d forget all about that.”
“Seriously.” He grinned. “We can just do the sprinkler, or something. It’ll be fun!”
He waited for you to respond, unsure why he was trying so hard.
He shouldn’t be working this hard to see you smile, but all Jimin could think was how sad you’d looked a few minutes ago. It was worth it to make you happy, even if you didn’t leave with Jimin tonight. Even if someone else got to benefit from your presence.
Finally, you nodded. “The sprinkler?” you said as you stood. “Was that really the first move you thought of?”
“Nah,” Jimin said, turning around. “My go-to move is the criss-cross, but I figured this was more your speed.”
You laughed, but Jimin barely heard it as you walked down the stairs. His head was already spinning, unsure what he was doing, but the moment the Russet group came into view, Noelle saw you and cheered.
“Y/N!” she called as you entered the crowd.
Jimin let you leave, knowing it was for the best. Hoseok challenged him to a dance-off, and Jimin began to lose track of time after that. It wasn’t long before people started splitting off in search of drinks or entertainment.
At some point, Jimin glanced up and realized it was only you left. You were the one egging him on, not Hoseok but somehow, Jimin found it wasn’t weird. His dance moves became sillier and more ridiculous, which was unusual. He wasn’t normally like this, but something about you lowered his inhibitions.
As he spun around in a circle, Jimin felt his hand connect with something hard and a drink went flying.
In horror, Jimin turned and saw he’d soaked the six foot tall behemoth behind him. Wiping blue drink from his eyes, the guy looked angrily down and locked gazes with Jimin.
“Shit,” you breathed, grabbing hold of his arm. “Run!”
Jimin protested, but you had a tight grip and eventually, he gave in and followed.
“No, wait – let me apologize!” Jimin said, trying to turn back. “I can pay for his drink! I can –”
You were cracking up, out of breath when you finally spun around.
Jimin came to a halt. You’d traveled deeper into the crowd, bodies pressing against him from every side. Jimin realized he couldn’t move, but neither did he want to. You were standing so close to him. So close, he could count each individual eyelash and feel the trembling heat from your body.
The dull thump of bass filled the air and, rather than move, you slowly blinked. A second ago you’d been laughing, but no more. Gaze oddly intense, you studied his features and Jimin desperately wished to know what you were thinking.
Before he could ask, someone bumped into you from behind and sent you flying. Jimin caught you without thinking, pulling you closer and when you glanced up at him in surprise, his mind became a perfect blank. For a moment he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but hold you against him.
Somehow, his thigh had become wedged between yours and the soft warmth of your body embedded itself in his mind. Jimin nearly combusted at your touch – nearly bent and crushed your lips to his – but before he could do anything at all, you shifted.
The movement was subtle, barely even there, but it shredded what remained of Jimin’s self-control. Grip tightening on your arms, he allowed blatant desire to bleed into his gaze.
It could have been his imagination, but he swore he heard a soft gasp from your lips. Gaze hardening, your fingers curled in his shirt as you moved your hips again; this time on purpose.
Jimin broke, grip tightening further to drag you up his thigh. He saw your eyelashes flutter, a lone vein pulsing in your jaw as you tipped your head back. The song in the background was darker, more seductive when Jimin lowered his head. Hands sliding up the panes of your back, he pulled you closer and brushed his lips to your ear.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice embarrassingly soft.
Suddenly, you froze.
In a panic, your eyes flew open.
When they met his, some of the haze seemed to clear from Jimin’s brain. He realized with horror exactly what he was doing. Holding you like this, touching you like this in the middle of a dance floor surrounded by all your friends from Russet. Anyone could have seen, and you – well, you had a boyfriend. You weren’t Jimin’s to dance with.
Something cracked in your gaze as you realized this, dropping your arms.
“I have to go,” you blurted before you whirled around.
Jimin stared after, his feet frozen solid, stuck to the floor. He was dimly aware he should follow but had no idea what to say. He’d messed up. It had been a giant mistake to think he could be close to you tonight and not give into temptation.
But then, again – he hadn’t been the only one who’d given in.
Jerking himself from his trance, Jimin forced his feet to move as he entered the crowd. It hadn’t been his imagination the way you’d looked at him tonight. The way you’d danced with him, the noises you’d made. He needed to find you. He needed to ask you what it all meant, but by the time he reached the edge of the dance floor, you were already gone.
Desperately, Jimin searched but you were nowhere to be found. Gut sinking, he began to retrace his steps and nearly ran into the blue drink guy from earlier. Hastily, he retreated and made his way across the room.
Jimin was beginning to understand your aversion to clubs. Everyone in here was loud, drunk and he couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen to you while you were separated. Jimin desperately hoped you’d learned your lesson from last time and hadn’t exited the building.
“Noelle!” he called as he broke through the crowd.
Glancing down from the stage, Noelle seemed surprised when she saw Jimin approach. He supposed he looked like a mess and, reaching hastily upwards, attempted to smooth down his hair.
“What?” she yelled back, leaning over the edge of the platform.
Jimin craned his neck upwards. “Have you seen Y/N?”
“What? Y/N?”
“Have you seen her?” he called.
“No?” Noelle’s gaze narrowed. “Why? What’s wrong?”
Jimin’s stomach churned. If you hadn’t come here, he needed to keep looking. “I – nothing.” Shaking his head, he took a step backwards. “I just… yeah. Nothing.”
Turning around, he plunged into the crowd and wondered what the hell he was doing. If Jimin wanted to be more obvious, he could just hang a sign around his neck saying he had a gigantic crush on you.
Coming to a stop at the edge of the dance floor, Jimin dug around in his pocket to pull out his phone. He was about to dial your number when he saw a flash of movement in the corner of his eyes. Glancing over, he saw you as you exited a dark hall labeled restrooms. Lowering his phone, Jimin began to walk towards you, only to pause when you pulled out your phone.
You were dialing.
Coming to a stop beside coat check, you began calling someone and although Jimin stood still and waited, his phone refused to ring. Glancing down, Jimin confirmed this and a frown tugged at his lips.
Suddenly, his stomach plummeted.
You were calling Finn. Of course, you were – you’d called your boyfriend to come pick you up, which was the perfect, cyclical ending to this perfect, cyclical night. Closing his eyes, Jimin tried to slow his breathing before he opened them again.
He saw you speaking to someone and the knot in his chest gradually loosened. At least your boyfriend had managed to pick up his phone this time. At least you were safe and wouldn’t be alone. Slipping his phone back in his pocket, Jimin turned around and made straight for the bar.
Dark, viscous emotions warred in his chest and before he could stop himself, Jimin found himself ordering a whiskey. Tapping his fingers against the bar, he waited for his drink and stared at the dance floor.
After a while, he couldn’t help it – he looked. He couldn’t stop himself from checking what you were doing. When it came to you, all sense of self-preservation seemed to fly out the window.
It was surprising then, when Jimin saw Noelle burst from the crowd. She hurried to where you were standing and Jimin realized with shock you’d called her, not Finn.
Before he could react to this, a glass of whiskey was pressed into his waiting hand. Feeling somewhat dazed, Jimin lifted this to his lips.
Merciless hope bloomed within and Jimin tried his best to squash it. Hope only seemed to bring more disappointment when it came to you. The truth of the matter was you weren’t his to want.
With a low sigh, Jimin lowered his drink and turned from the bar.
Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he’d call and ask you to forget everything about tonight. As much as it pained him – as much as he wanted to invite you over right now, to imprint your body against his on the sheets – Jimin also didn’t want to have you like this.
He wanted you to be entirely his, and that couldn’t happen tonight.
Tomorrow, though.
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Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! 😊 
RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 
© kpopfanfictrash, 2021. Do not copy or repost without permission.
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dollyshaw · 3 years
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The Thing About Rain: An Adrienette Story (Part 2)
In which realizations are made.
The wind and rain blew harshly around Marinette as she made her way to House of Gabriel. She’d never regretted not getting her license at 18; she liked to make her way around Paris by foot. It was easier to meet people that way, and she didn’t have to worry about leaving her car somewhere if she ever had to transform on the fly. Today, however, she wished she could drive.
She gripped tightly onto the umbrella that Adrien had given her on that fateful day seven years ago. This was, as far as she was concerned, the greatest token of friendship and affection.
Though this umbrella may have made her feel warm inside at the memories it held, it would not prevent the rain from splashing into her pink rubber boots and sogging the ends of her black cropped trousers. Her tan “Gabriel” trench coat was not even enough to prevent the water from dampening the white blazer and striped blouse of her carefully cultivated ensemble meant to impress her new Mentor, Gabriel Agreste.
Over the years her clumsiness may have soothed itself, but her luck while out of her alter-ego’s protective suit never improved. Her black cat hadn’t even crossed her path today. What irony.
She was relieved when she finally turned the corner to the front of the House of Agreste Studio building. She pushed her way through the gold-plated revolving door as she undid her umbrella and shook off the excess water. She hooked it via a carabiner to her black Chanel side-strap and shed her trench coat as she made her way to the elevator.
She was in the middle of the downstairs lobby before it even hit her where she was. She stopped dead in her tracks in the center of the room, mesmerized by the building around her. She knew Mr. Agreste personally, which made this all the more surreal to her. She noted all of the gold in the room. Gold caulking connecting the ceiling to the white marble walls. Gold crested plates on the ceiling. Gold mixed into the black marble flooring beneath her feet. All of this accented the gold chandelier reaching down from the center of the ceiling, crystals coating its long arms reflecting the lights behind them to give the room a warm glow. She knew Mr. Agreste built this from nothing, which gave her the utmost respect for him as a designer and a business man.
“Good Morning, Maribug.” A voice shook her from her thoughts.
Standing beside her, clad in carefully tailored black slacks, an ironed white chemise buttoned right below his collarbone and the sleeves rolled to right below his elbows, and tan loafers, was Adrien Agreste. Her breathe hitched as she noted the glint in his eyes and the smirk on his lips as he called her the nickname he coined after calling her his “everyday Ladybug” all those years ago. She knew it was just because of the compliment, but every time he called her “Maribug,” she questioned whether or not he’d somehow figured out her secret identity.
“Adrien Agreste! You scared the life out of me.” She sighed pinching her nose, trying to catch her breath.
“I’m sorry Marinette,” He said helping her pick up the papers she dropped “but look, I brought you breakfast.”
“Awe, you didn’t have to!” She blushed taking the small bag and cup from his hands.
“It’s your first day, Mari. Consider it a welcome to the company.” He smiled putting his hands into his pockets.
“Well thank you fine sir.” She grinned.
“You’re more than welcome, M’lady. May I escort thee to thy office?” He faked a bow and offered his arm. She nodded and took his arm, though she was slightly taken aback by the wave of familiarity that accompanied his statement.
M’Lady? It could have been purely coincidental that he referred to her as M’lady and Maribug on the same day, but it was not lost on her that the only person she’d ever heard use the term was her partner. She’d concluded a long time ago, however, that there was no way Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir could be the same person. Sure, they had a lot of physical similarities and she had never seen them in the same place, but their personalities were drastically different. That and the fact that Tikki did not seem to respond to Adrien in the slightest completely convinced her that Adrien was not Chat Noir.
Marinette, however, was not very observant when it came to Adrien Agreste. When she was around Adrien, nothing in the world around her seemed to matter. Her blissful oblivion was only maximized when they were in close proximity.
Maybe if her arm hadn’t been carefully looped around his, or if they weren’t less than a foot away from each other in an enclosed space, she might have noticed the way that the security cameras turned to follow her and Adrien as they moved through the lobby. She may have noticed the way it took several unusual moments for the elevator to start its ascent, as if it were weighing the odds of bringing them up to the thirteenth floor. If she hadn’t been in an elevator with Adrien Agreste, as she had been many times before, she might have noticed that the odd feeling the rain gave her this morning clung to her through the lobby of House of Gabriel, lingered in the elevator, and radiated around her long-time crush like the fumes of a well-aged cheese.
________________________________________________________
Adrien Agreste was oblivious about a lot of things, but not even he could miss the way his heart sped up a few beats when Marinette Dupain-Cheng took his arm. With her this close, he could feel the warmth of her person, almost like she physically radiated the way she made others feel. He could breathe in the fragrances of fresh bread, rose, and something very familiar that he could neither put his finger on nor could he identify where he’d smelled it before. Her dainty hand curled around his forearm gave rise to a certain warmness in his cheeks and in the pit of his stomach. Any warmness from Marinette, however similar, would always pale in comparison to the feeling his Lady gave him when she so much as smiled.
Adrien Agreste was oblivious to a lot of things, but not even he could miss the odd, almost calculating look on his father’s face as the elevator doors opened on the 13th floor to reveal him. He paid little attention to his father’s face, as he was more surprised that his father was, indeed, standing before him. He’d fully expected to meet his father via a tablet screen in his office rather than face-to-face.
Beside him, he heard Marinette emit a small gasp at the man standing in front of her. True, Adrien had not seen his father in person much in the past seven years, but the public (including his very own new apprentice), had seen him even less. He could only imagine that she had not been expecting to encounter him in person at all during her time at House of Gabriel.
“Adrien,” he began, resting his hands one-above-another on the ball of his ebony cane “Thank you for escorting our young designer on her first day of work. How chivalrous of you. One might even say… heroic.”
Adrien was still too taken aback by his father’s presence to notice the glint in his eye as he finished his statement. Marinette was far too engulfed in anxiety to notice the way Mr. Agrestes eyes slanted and lips curved into a sinister smirk as he spoke the final word.
“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” he continued, taking her hand from his son’s arm and lightly kissing her knuckles, “Welcome to House of Gabriel. We are very pleased to have you with us.”
Adrien couldn’t help but feel a bit angry when his father took Marinette’s hand from his arm and tucked it neatly into his own. He felt his cheeks heat up when his father started walking with her to his office and motioned for him to follow, making polite conversation with his best friend as they walked.
“Kid,” Plagg whispered from the hidden pocket inside his chemise, “You gotta calm down. I can feel the negative emotions welling up so I know ShadowMoth can. I know she’s your girl, but you have to cool it.”
“She’s not my girl!” Adrien almost shouted. He quickly noticed that he was not in a private place and the designers around would most definitely think he was going mental for talking to himself, so he quickly corrected himself by saying “She’s My Woman! Yea! It’s on Jagged Stone’s next album you guys won’t want to miss it.” And then he ducked his head and kept walking.
“Nice going kid,” Plagg tried to emit as much of him rolling his eyes as he could into his tone, “but seriously you’re going to have to calm down.”
Adrien tried to steady his breaths as he followed his father and Marinette into his office at the end of the room. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that his Father had missed breakfast with him this morning, as well as every morning for seven years, and made a point to show up for Marinette’s first day of work or Plagg calling Marinette his girl, but he was sure that the heat in his chest was not because he was jealous of his father showing Marinette off to the office like a trophy. She was just a friend, after all, a really good friend.
A friend with dark navy hair and blue bell eyes. A friend who could light up a room just by stepping into it. A friend that made her friends macarons when they were having a bad day, and stayed up with them until 2 a.m. if they needed someone to talk to. A friend that, if he weren’t obsessed with his partner of seven years, could see a future with.
He was snapped out of his trance by the sudden sound of the heavy metal plated door of his father’s office closing.
“Mademoiselle, as I claimed earlier Adrien and I, as well as the entire staff of House of Gabriel are honored to have you as my personal apprentice.” His father praised as he lounged in the green upholstered armchair by the fireplace of his office.
“Merci, Monsieur Agreste. It is an honor to be learning from an icon, such is yourself.” Marinette squeaked as she took a place on the sofa across from him. Adrien made a point to situate himself on the couch next to Marinette, an odd feeling of protectiveness radiating through him.
“Oh, please darling, call me Gabriel. We will be working very closely together after all.” He responded, glancing at his son the entire time. Adrien instinctively slanted his eyes at his father and twisted the ring on his finger. In the moment, all he could hear was his heart beating out of his chest and the warmth that followed on the tips of his ears and the tips of his fingers. He resisted the urge to call upon his Kwami. He couldn’t figure out the source of this anger, which frustrated him more. He suddenly felt a small hand wrap around his own and squeeze.
“Adrien,” Marinette whispered “Are you alright? You look a little tense.” He noticed that his father had gotten up from his spot across from them to brew some tea at the cart across the room.
“I’m fine Mari, something just feels off.” He grinned tightly at her.
“You feel it too? I’ve felt on edge since this morning and couldn’t place it.”
“What do you mean?” He questioned, not knowing completely what she was talking about.
“I don’t know, just something in the air, I guess. I just have a bad feeli-“
“Mademoiselle,” Gabriel interrupted, sitting back down and handing her and Adrien both teacups, “Have I ever asked you where you got your earrings? I’ve noticed you wear them every time we come into contact. They’re just so… unique.”
“Oh, um, t-they’re a family heirloom, sir.” Marinette grinned, taken aback by his sudden interest in her jewelry. Adrien had never noticed her earrings before. He looked at them now, noting how familiar they looked. Not because he had seen them on Marinette, but because he could swear he’s seen them somewhere else.
“Interesting, they resemble a pair I’ve seen in a book I own greatly.” He continued as he leaned forward. “Would you mind taking them off so that I may examine them a bit closer?”
“I-I’d rather not sir. See, my grand-pere gave them to me as a birthday present and I’d rather not risk losing them.” She tensed. It was at that moment Adrien saw something he was sure he was dreaming. Marinette’s crossbody sat on the floor, slightly open. Had he not been familiar with tiny Gods, Ladybug’s Kwami in particular, he might have thought the tiny red head poking out of the top of Marinette’s bag was a stress toy.
“Mademoiselle, I can guarantee no harm to come to your heirlooms. I simply wish to inspect them.” Gabriel insisted.
“Sir, I will allow you to inspect my earrings when you allow me to inspect your pin. What an interesting pin that is, too. Is it a butterfly?” Marinette responded, more confident than Adrien had ever seen her before. That was when the ground came crashing in on him.
The hair, the eyes, the smell, the earrings, the confidence. How had he not seen it before? He was with her every day. He sat behind her at school. He followed her every move across the rooftops of Paris for the past seven years. He’d fought beside her at every akuma and laughed beside her during group hangout. Marinette was Ladybug. More importantly, Ladybug was Marinette.
“Very astute observation of you, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, or shall I refer to you as: Ladybug. I shouldn’t be surprised that my son, despite being a miraculous holder himself, has yet to notice.” Gabriel taunted.
“I’m sure Chat Noir was too busy fending off your akuma’s to notice that they were spawning from his house.” Marinette replied beginning to stand up. She looked at him as Ladybug did when she was signaling for Chat Noir to prepare for battle, but Adrien had not yet reached the conclusion that she had.
“Marinette is Ladybug.” Adrien reasoned in his head. “Ladybug is Marinette. Marinette knows that I am Chat Noir. My father knows that Marinette is Ladybug. My father knows that I am Chat Noir. My father is a miraculous holder. My father holds the butterfly miraculous. Akumas spawn from my house.”
Adrien suddenly gasped outloud, realization crashing over him.
“Gabriel Agreste is ShadowMoth.” He rationalized outloud from his place on the couch.
“Right you are, mon fils. You should be a little more careful when you leave the mansion. You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. No one ever specified who's curiosity.” Gabriel cooed at him, standing menacingly by the fireplace. “Nooroo, Dark Wings Rise!”
https://dollyshaw.tumblr.com/post/658612297611264000/the-thing-about-rain-an-adrienette-story-part-1
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eyesforjade · 3 years
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2: the snap
Summary: The situation wasn’t going as Tony wanted, not even close. When he went out for a walk with Pepper that morning, he didn't expect to be on an alien ship going to another planet, much less that a magician would appear during this walk, accompanied by Bruce Banner with yet another threat for them to confront. Stark hoped his life would become easier after he had partially abandoned his armor and chosen to live a normal life with Pepper and his daughter Elisabeth, but things had to get worse in one way or another.
Word count: 10,5k.
Warnings: I’m from Brazil, I write in portuguese and translate to english, with what I know and learn from the language, and with some help of google translate, it may oy may not be understadble, but I’m trying my best, and hope you like it.
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 The situation wasn’t going as Tony wanted, not even close. When he went out for a walk with Pepper that morning, he didn't expect to be on an alien ship going to another planet, much less that a magician would appear during this walk, accompanied by Bruce Banner with yet another threat for them to confront. Stark hoped his life would become easier after he had partially abandoned his armor and chosen to live a normal life with Pepper and his daughter Elisabeth, but things had to get worse in one way or another.
He remembers the tranquility of things before leaving home. Lisa was talking excitedly about an excursion the Midtown school would take the students, and how excited she and Peter were. He remembers to smile, and to face Pepper who had a huge smile on her face, he remembers when his daughter left home to go to school, and Pepper looked at him saying that these two were unexpected, and that she was curious to know where that relationship would go. Tony thought the same thing, and so he fought tooth and nail to keep the boy safe.
Thinking on a positive side, Tony was happy to be with Peter, because it meant his little girl was safe on Earth. It was selfish to think about it like that, the boy took an important part in Tony's life, he was like the son he never had, and he has won this place since he started a friendship with his daughter a few years ago. The boy had acquired powers after being bitten by a radioactive spider and assumed the mantle of Spiderman after that, years later, Stark would recruit him to help him with the Captain America X Sokovia Accords case, or as his daughter nicknamed "Civil war".
Which led him to the current situation. Trapped in a spaceship, with a plan based on a movie about aliens, without many options, Tony follows the boy's plan without hesitation, and in the end, it was a good plan, perhaps not the best way to save the wizard, but a plan that had worked. The spaceship belonged to the three now, and the next step was to think about what they would do next, Stark watched Peter talking to Strange's magic cloak, while his own costume retracted, turning over the clothes he wore for his walk.
 "We got to turn the ship over." Stephen speaks, getting up quickly, the cape quickly adapts to his body.
“Yeah, now he wants to run. Great plan”. Tony replies approaching Parker, seeing if the boy hasn't been hurt in any way. If in Sokovia his daughter had gone against him, just because he was using Peter in a battle that wasn’t his, imagine what she would do if the boy got hurt here.
"No, I want to protect the stone". After checking it, Tony turns to the steering part of the ship, it wasn’t designed for human hands, but rather, Thanos's hands, alone he wouldn’t be able to control the ship.
“And I want you to thank me. Go ahead, I’m listening”.
"For what?" He hears the man's voice. "Nearly blasting me to space?"
"Who just saved your magical ass?" Tony turns around, facing the man. "Me".
"I seriously don't know how you fit your head into that helmet." Tony goes back to analyzing the system, while Stephen approaches him.
"Admit it, you should have ducked out when I told you to". Peter didn't dare say anything while the two argued, so he just kept close to the two of them watching. “I tried to bench you, you refused. Almost as stubborn as my daughter...”
"Unlike everyone else in your life, I don't work for you."
"And due to that fact, we’re now in a flying doughnut..." The comment made Strange roll his eyes, this conversation wouldn’t take them anywhere. "Billions of miles away from Earth, with no backup".
"I’m backup". Peter takes the comment as an opportunity to join the conversation.
"No, you’re a stowaway". Tony says quickly, pointing a finger at himself and then at Stephen. “The adults are talking”.
"I’m sorry, I’m confused as to the relationship here." Stephen looks at Stark with a confused expression, pointing his finger at Peter. "What is he, your ward?"
"No". Peter quickly extends his hand. "I'm Peter, by the way."
"Doctor Strange". Stephen speaks quickly, not shaking Peter's hand.
"Oh, we’re using our made-up names". Peter steps back nervously. "Um… I'm Spiderman, then". Stephen looks at him, and without saying anything else, starts to approach Tony.
“This ship is self-correcting its course. Thing’s autopilot". Tony informs the other man.
"Can we control it?" Peter begins to approach the two, while Strange leads questions about the situation. "Fly us home?" After a time of no response from the other man, Stephen speaks again. "Stark?"
"Yeah?”
"Can you take us home?" Tony nods, but his mind doesn't want to follow that plan. "Yeah, I heard you". Stark folds his arms, looking back at the wizard. "I'm not so sure if we should".
"Under no circumstance can we bring the Time Stone to Thanos". The wizard makes it clear once again, making Tony sigh. "I don't think you quite understand what's at stake here".
"No". Tony approaches the man. “It’s you who doesn't understand, that Thanos has been inside my head for six years, since he sent an army to New York and now he's back!” Peter remembers the 2012 attack, like it was yesterday, Lisa was at his house when the attack started, Pepper had left the girl there before going to a conference in Washington, and he remembers what it was like to see his best friend worried about her father. "And I don't know what to do, so, I’m not so sure if it’s a better plan to fight him on our turf or his... But you saw what they did, what they can do". Stephen regarded Tony as if he was as crazy as he seemed, that plan could end terribly badly, and trial and error wasn’t a viable option. “At least on his turf, he’s not expecting. So, I say we take the fight to him”. Tony was silent for a few seconds, considering the other man's expression, he didn't know how far they could go, and it was a very risky thing, but it was worth the try. "Doctor. Do you concur?"
"Alright, Stark". The man speaks calmly, he knew what he was risking there, and understood the responsibility he had the moment he put the necklace holding the stone on his neck. “We go to him. But you have to understand... If it comes to saving you or the kid or the Time Stone... I will not hesitate to let either of you die”. While Tony didn't look shaken, Peter's heart had probably skipped a beat or two, it was a lot of responsibility, planning such an attack, and it was at times like this, that he would rather have listened to his best friend, he should have stayed on the bus. "I can't, because the fate of the universe depends on it".
"Nice. Good. Moral compass”. Tony fiddles with his cloak, as if fixing it, and starts to approach Peter. "We’re straight. Alright, kid". Peter didn't move, and just watched Tony make a hand gesture, from one shoulder to the other. "You’re an Avenger now." Despite his nervousness, and as the whole situation scared him, Peter couldn't help but smile at what the man had said, he understood the responsibility of carrying that title, and he knew that he couldn't let Tony down, he couldn't let anyone down.
 ☼
 It was supposed to be just another excursion, or that was what Elisabeth Stark thought when she left home. When you're the daughter of the famous billionaire and philanthropist Tony Stark, you can expect literally anything when you leave the house, going from being recognized by your father's not-so-secret "identity" to a donut-shaped alien spaceship invading Earth, and today, the tour to the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan had been interrupted by the second option, and Lisa couldn't be more nervous.
Elisabeth had seen the ship from the place she sat near MJ, who was just talking to her about her friends and the place they were going to. She could see that Peter had also seen the ship and knew well that the boy wouldn’t be on the bus for very long, which made her even more nervous. She knew him well enough, knew that he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to help the city, and understood that she wouldn’t be able to stop him for anything in the world.
 "Holy shit!" Lisa and MJ turned their gaze to Peter and Ned, the four now aware of the ship in the sky, and Elisabeth was sure that Parker had asked Leeds to distract the rest of the students. “WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!” Without having to do anything else, Ned gets up and goes to the back of the bus, followed by MJ and several other students, leaving Peter and Lisa sitting in their seats. "THERE’S A SPACESHIP!"
"Think about what you're doing". Lisa whispers to her best friend, watching him put web shooters on his wrists.
"Saving the city". He responds with a smile, trying to reassure the girl.
"Putting yourself in danger". Peter with a quick gesture, puts his hand on his friend's face, giving a huge smile.
"I wouldn't be the friendly neighborhood buddy if I didn't do that". Before Peter could move, Elisabeth held his hand, making him look at her quickly, Ned's distraction had worked, but he needed to be quicker if he wanted to leave before anyone noticed that he was gone. "I'll be right back".
"No matter what you think at the time..." He looks at his friend confused, not understanding where she was going. "If my father thinks about getting on that ship, stop him, and above all, if he gets in that thing, get back to the bus".
"Lis, I ..."
"Promise me". Without saying anything else, the boy nods, leaving through the emergency exit quickly, leaving Elisabeth alone on the seat. Taking a deep breath, Elisabeth gets up, following the example of the other students, but soon realizing that one of the students hadn’t followed Ned's distraction, sitting on the seat in the back, Harry Osborn was smiling towards her.
"That was... interesting?" With a nervous smile, Lisa notices the students return to their seats and the bus stops, quickly, she sits down next to Harry. "So, Spiderman and Iron Heart, great partners..." Harry was one of her best friends, she met the boy at a science fair when the boy complained about his father giving more recognition to other people than to his own son, this started a friendship between the two, and has been expanding, and now Harry, Peter, Ned, MJ and Lisa were inseparable.
"Didn't you go see the donut-shaped ship?" Harry smiles widely at the comment.
“Are you kidding? This to me is like a weekend dinner at home”. Lisa accompanies her friend, laughing about it. The driver suggested that everyone stay calm and reported the situation to the teacher responsible for the excursion, and it seemed that Roger Harrington didn’t have a smooth trip.
"I urge everyone to remain calm, the roads leading to Manhattan have been temporarily closed." The professor points to the ship. “Because of that. We have no prediction for when we can continue our journey, or if we should continue, so stay together and stay on the bus, and...” All students remain silent, and the teacher seemed lost in his lines, just nodding his head and sitting back down.
"You know, I'm starting to think that this guy should take a vacation". MJ says quickly, approaching the bench that Osborn and Stark sat on, Lisa turns around with a smile, seeing that Ned and Flash were with her.
"Stark, you who are experienced in this kind of thing..." Flash starts making MJ roll his eyes, waiting for something stupid to come out of her mouth. "How likely are we to die on this bus?"
"That’s so low mood, Thompson." Brad yells from the back of the bus.
"Yeah, nobody's going to die." MJ replies, but in her eyes, I could see that there was a certain uncertainty in what she said.
"We will only be stuck on the road for a few minutes, it's not like the world is going to end for this". Betty speaks, rolling her eyes and sitting down next to Ned.
 However, what would be minutes ended up becoming hours. Stark remained vigilant with the ship practically all the time, talked to her friends to distract her mind, while the bus wasn’t moving anymore, and after practically an hour, the ship disappeared from the skies, and she had no news of Peter and neither of her father, indicating that the two of them would probably be inside the ship. After a few more minutes, Elisabeth realized that she also couldn't stand there, she had to get off the bus and find help as soon as possible, to know what was going on outside the bus.
She could hear Harry and Flash talking about the ship, and Ned was asking her what would happen next. MJ sat in silence on the bench next to her and looked out the window as if all of her problems were going to disappear while she didn't look, Betty stayed close to them, but hardly talked, Lisa was sure she liked the company of Leeds, and that somehow it comforted her. Stark didn't know how to answer all of the questions, and felt almost immediately, her heart ease when her cell phone started ringing. She looked quickly at her cell phone, seeing the contact name “Uncle Rhodey”, without thinking twice, she answers.
 "Hello?" Her words came out almost in a whisper, and she felt relief when James Rhodes started talking to her.
"What's up, little princess?" The group of friends she had around her were practically silent, and all she could hear on the bus was the other students talking to each other.
"He's on the ship, isn't he?" Elisabeth knew the answer to that question, she understood that everyone needed to act quickly to stop the threat, including her.
"According to Pepper, he is". The girl hears this, and closes her eyes in agreement, as if she is trying to assimilate it yet, the chances of Peter being on the ship with him were enormous. "And that's why I need you, there's something coming, and we don't have enough people to fight it".
"Which is?" She opens her eyes again, seeing Harry looking worried, he even holds her hand, and she realizes that her friends had practically the same expression as Osborn.
"A big guy named Thanos, he's after some Stones". Stones? Stark had so many questions in his head, who was Thanos? What did he want? And what were these Stones he was looking for? “Listen, I need you here, where are you? Do you need me to pick you up?”
"On a bus on the Queensboro Bridge, where do I need to go?" From the expression that Harry had now on his face, he knew that she wouldn’t be with them, and quickly, the boy was already getting up to talk to the teacher, being followed by MJ and Ned.
"Do you have your suit with you?" She quickly says yes. "Perfect, meet me at the Avengers headquarters, I'll explain everything here".
 Ignoring Flash's various questions regarding what was going on, Elisabeth gets up, passing Harry and MJ, looking at the teacher. He seemed nervous, but he wasn't sure how to deal with the situation, letting one of his students out was practically irresponsible, all the students on the bus were under his supervision, not that Peter Parker cared about this, but looking at situation, he knew that the girl wouldn’t be useful here, and wherever the Avengers were, it would be the best place for her to be.
That was her cue, and she quickly went out of the bus, feeling every single eye of each classmate on her back. She passed a few cars, until she found the perfect takeoff point without damaging nobody’s property. Her suit had the same technology as her father's suits, Lisa had designed it herself, but always with some adjustments from Tony, the nanotechnology used in both suits was put on their bodies succinctly, while Tony's armor fit in his body according to the clothes he wore, hers fit inside a nanotechnological bracelet, where the armor stayed when she wasn’t wearing it, and with just a touch, the armor fit on her body.
With the armor on her body, she starts to take off, going to the meeting point. Passing through Manhattan made her aware of the damage done by the invaders, the records of her father's armor, indicated that Friday had evacuated the streets until 43, and notified the rescuers in the case of injured civilians. The streets were practically impassable, cars abandoned in practically the entire region of attack, and some places destroyed, probably due to the fighting that happened there.
Without thinking too much, Lisa accelerates the flight, needed to get to the Avengers headquarters right away, and find out how she could help. She took advantage of the flight to check some things about her father and Peter, Tony had activated the sending of 17: A, a new suit for Peter that the two had work together, with nanotechnology the suit would give an upgrade in everything that the old uniform of Peter had, including a way to go after his father in space, both his suit and Tony's were far from being traceable, and that worried her a lot.
Arriving at the base, she didn’t need to be received by anyone, her costume had already retracted into the bracelet, and she walked quickly through the halls of the place, meeting James in one of the meeting rooms, having a conference with the secretary Ross. Elisabeth remained silent, waiting for Rhodey to finish that conversation, she didn't know what was going on, but from what she heard from the conversation, Vision hadn’t yet been found, which only opened more questions in her head, why were they after Vision?
 "Still no word from Vision?"
"Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh". Rhodey sends a smile towards her, being returned, she leans against a wall near the door that she had entered, crossing her arms.
"On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world’s most wanted criminals”. That's when she realized, Steve and Natasha were involved in this, she was sure Wanda was with Vision, just as Sam would be with Steve wherever he wanted him to go. If the situation was a case of life and death for the four to reveal their location to the world, it meant that it was imminent danger, just as Ultron was to Sokovia.
"You know they're only criminals because you’ve chosen to call them that, right, sir?" She looks back at Rhodes.
"My God, Rhodes". Rhodes had a serious look; it was the kind of look she only got when she did something that no one would approve. "Your talent for horseshit rivals my own”.
"If it weren't for those Accords, Vision would’ve been right here”. She looks at the hologram, seeing Ross quickly approach James.
"I remember your signature on those papers, Colonel".
"That’s right". Rhodes nods. "And I’m pretty sure I’ve paid for that".
"You have second thoughts?"
"Not anymore". The noise of the door; indicates that new people arrived at the place, she approaches Rhodes, seeing Steve, Natasha, Wanda and Sam, who was helping Vision to walk, her heart squeezes, she hadn’t seen the four in a long time.
"Mr. Secretary". Steve speaks, stopping at the door, looking at the three, Elisabeth can't help but smile at him.
"You got some nerve". The secretary walks again, facing Rogers. "I’ll give you that".
"You could use some of that right now". Natasha replies, the woman is completely different from what Elisabeth remembered, her hair was short at the shoulders and blond, as if she had changed to be easier to not be recognized.
"The world’s on fire". The secretary looks back at Steve. "And you think, all is forgiven?"
"I'm not looking for forgiveness." Steve speaks quickly. “And I'm way past asking for permission. Earth just lost her best defender. So we’re here to fight”. Rogers gets closer to the hologram. "And if you wanna stand in our way, we'll fight you, too".
"Arrest them". The secretary says, turning his gaze to Rhodes, that he does not lose his serious expression.
"All over it". Without thinking twice, Rhodes disconnects the communication with the secretary, making the holograms disappear. "That’s a court-martial". Elisabeth smiles at the comment, making James smile too. "It's great to see you, Cap". The two shake hands, while the others enter the room smiling.
"You too, Rhodey." Elisabeth quickly hugs Steve, while Natasha hugs Rhodes, and then quickly hugs Lisa.
"You grew up so much, what did two years did to you?" Natasha comments, staring at the girl, while Steve smiles and agrees, the little reunion is short-lived when Rhodes speaks again.
"Well... You guys really look like crap". Lisa turns her gaze to the other three, Wanda looked a little shaken, Sam had the same expression he always had in situations like this and Vision had a serious wound in his stomach. "Must’ve been a rough couple of years".
"Yeah, well, hotels weren't exactly five star". Sam says, giving a big smile.
"Uh, I think you look great". Another voice appears, and almost instantly, everyone turns around, seeing the new presence in the room. "Uh… heh… Yeah, I'm back”. Bruce Banner had a nervous smile, the Hulk had stolen a ship two years ago and fled far away, and now, he was back.
"Hi, Bruce". Natasha says, making the man practically speechless, the two looked at each other as if nothing else was important, while the rest of the room just watched the two.
"Nat".
"This is awkward”. Sam whispers, making everyone look at him, and then everyone started moving, going to another room, where they finally discuss what to do next. Elisabeth went to the other room with Natasha and Steve, and the two were telling about how much they had lost from her growth in the past two years, the two have been with her since the attack in 2012, where her father had become friends with the other Avengers, everything changed with the Sokovia Accords.
"So, we gotta assume they’re coming back, right?" Elisabeth turns her attention to Rhodes, who was facing a hologram of the two aliens who called themselves Children of Thanos, who ambushed Wanda and Vision.
"And they can clearly find us." Wanda comments, looking at everyone, Bruce walked around the room, and seemed to be the one who knew most about Thanos.
"We need all hands on deck". Bruce says aloud, looking at Natasha. "Where's Clint?"
"After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal." Bruce nods his head. "It was too tough for the families, they’re on house arrest".
"Who's Scott?" Bruce asks.
"Ant-Man". Steve responds, making Bruce turn around in confusion.
"There’s an Ant-Man and a Spider-Man?" Elisabeth nods, making Bruce wince. “Okay, look... Thanos has the biggest army in the universe... And he is not gonna stop until he...” He pauses, as if trying to ease the situation. “He gets… Vision’s Stone”.
"Well then, we have to protect it". Elisabeth speaks, getting up from the chair.
"No, we have to destroy it". Vision joins the conversation, making everyone look at him, who has a calm expression on his face. “I’ve been giving a good deal of thought to this entity in my head, about its nature”. Everyone was silent, just watching him, as he approached Wanda. "But also, its composition. I think that if it were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source, something, very similar to its own signature, perhaps… Its molecular integrity could fail".
"And you, with it". Wanda looks at him calmly, everyone had understood what Vision was suggesting, destroying the Stone meant that Thanos wouldn’t be able to catch her. "We’re not having this conversation”.
"Eliminating the stone is the only way to be certain that Thanos can't get it”.
"That’s too high a price”. Vision holds his partner's head gently, staring at her.
"Only you have the power to pay it". Without saying anything else, Wanda moves away from his touch, walking away. "Thanos threatens half the Universe. One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him". Vision alert everyone, nobody seemed interested in following that plan.
"But it should". Steve speaks. "We don’t trade lives, Vision".
"Captain, 70 years ago, you laid down your life to save how many millions of people". Vision approaches Rogers, making him turn completely towards him. "Tell me, why is this any different?"
"Because you might have a choice”. Elisabeth lets go, facing Bruce.
"Your mind is made up of a complex construct of overlays". Vision is silent. “J.A.R.V.I.S., Ultron, Tony, me, the Stone. All of them mixed together. All of them learning from one another”.
“You’re saying Vision isn’t just the stone?” Wanda asks.
"We are saying that if we take out the stone..." Elisabeth turns to Wanda, gesturing with her hands. “There’s still a whole lot of Vision left. Perhaps the best parts”.
"Can we do that?" Natasha asks, facing the two.
"Not us. Not here". Bruce replies, looking at Lisa, the two knew that alone, neither of them were capable of that nor they didn’t have none of the resource needed.
"You better find someone, and somewhere fast". Rhodes speaks quickly. "Ross isn’t exactly just gonna let you guys have your old rooms back”.
"I know somewhere". Steve concludes, giving everyone a smile.
 ☼
 "You alright? That was close". Tony lets go, helping Stephen pull himself together. They had controlled the ship to land on Titan, ready for a surprise attack on Thanos. "I owe you one".
"Let me say…” The two turned to Peter, who was hanging upside down on one of his webs. "If aliens wind up implanting eggs in my chest or something, and I eat one of you, I’m sorry”.
"I don’t wanna hear another single pop culture out of you for the rest of the trip. You understand?" Tony says quickly.
"I’m trying to say that… Something is coming". Peter concludes, making Stephen and Tony look at him crookedly without understanding, and that's when a bomb is dropped between the two adults, making the three fly with the impact.
"THANOS!"
 Everything happened very fast, the three attackers entered quickly where the ship had landed. Attacking without thinking twice, the same man who had screamed attacked Stranger, who quickly defended himself with magic, and then immediately sent his cloak to disable him. Tony fought with another man, who were wearing what appeared to be boots with thrusters, two guns in his hands and a strange mask, in a blow to fight back, the attacker attached a magnetic device to his armor, causing it to be pulled onto the beam of nearest metal. The first thing that Peter manages to focus his vision on, is a woman with antennae, which makes him move away as quickly as possible.
 "DON’T PUT YOUR EGGS ON ME!" He quickly gets up, throwing webs in her direction, holding it in place, then Peter is hit by the same man who fought Tony earlier.
"Stay down, clown". The man starts to shoot, making Peter move quickly upwards, trying to avoid the shots, the boy commands the armor to open the new feature, the four mechanical arms attached to his back, helping him move faster, an attempt who was thwarted by the man, who threw a device towards him, who dispersed itself on two electric cords that he tied around his waist, stopping him.
"Die, blanket of death!" Tony quickly detached himself from the beam and put his foot on the attacker's chest that had been trapped by Stranger's cloak, he now looked at Tony, while he pointed one hand at him, ready to shoot.
"Alright, everybody, stay where you are…" The man who arrested Tony on the beam screams was holding Peter hostage, aiming the gun at his head. "Chill the F out". Strange had a spell ready, and hoped he didn't have to use it, the man holding Peter tightens something on his helmet, revealing his face, his weapon turns to Tony. "I'm gonna ask you this one time. Where's Gamora?"
"Yeah, I’ll do you one better”. Tony's helmet retracts showing his face, while he aims at the fallen man and the man who had Peter. "Who’s Gamora?"
"I’ll do you one better". The man on the floor says. "Why is Gamora?"
"Tell me where the girl is, or I swear to you, I’m gonna Fench-fry this little freak". The other threatens again by pressing the gun further on Peter's head.
"Let’s do it!" Tony shapes a large nanotechnology weapon, aiming at his partner lying on the floor. “You shoot my guy, I blast him. LET’S GO!"
“Do it, Quill! I can take it". The man on the floor screams, revealing the name of the man aiming the gun at Parker.
"No, he can't take it!" The alien that Peter had webbed screams after Quill.
"She's right." Strange speaks. "You can’t ".
"Oh yeah? You don’t wanna tell me where she is?” Quill speaks again. "That’s fine. I’ll kill all three of you and beat it out of Thanos myself”. Quill turns his gaze to Peter, tightening his grip on the gun. "Starting with you".
“Wait, what. Thanos?” Stephen asks looking at Quill. “Alright, let me ask you this one time: What master do you serve?”
"What master do I serve?" Quill repeats looking confused. "What am I supposed to say? ‘Jesus’?” Tony takes a deep breath, looking at Strange, rolling his eyes as he turns to Quill.
"You’re from Earth?"
"I’m not from Earth, I'm from Missouri". Quill responds, staring at Stark.
"Yeah, that’s on Earth, dip-shit". Tony removes his foot from the man and returns his armor to normal. "What are you hassling us for?"
"So, you're not with Thanos?" Peter asks slowly.
"With Thanos?!" Quill repeats, facing Tony. “No, I’m here to kill Thanos! He took my girl-” Quill stops aiming the gun at Peter. "Wait, who are you?" Peter follows the example of the other two, and removes his helmet, revealing his face.
"We’re the Avengers, man". Quill takes his arm from Peter's neck, moving away.
"You’re the ones Thor told us about!" The woman speaks again, making Tony look at Quill.
"You know Thor?"
"Yeah. Tall guy, not that good-looking, needed saving”. Peter looks at Quill with a confused expression.
"Where is he now?" Strange asks.
"He went to a planet called Nidavellir, with two of our teammates". Quill speaks, approaching Tony and Stephen. "We split up, we went to Knowhere to retrieve the Reality Stone, but by the time we got there, Thanos had already taken it, well, the Reality one and two more".
"Excellent". Tony says quickly, starting to get out of the ship's rubble. "And who are you?"
"We are the Guardians". The woman speaks quickly, the other partner had helped her with Peter's webs, and soon everyone was outside.
"I am Quill, Star Lord, this is Mantis and Drax". Tony nods, Peter was beside him, and Strange was analyzing things. "We are a team, the Guardians of the Galaxy, Thanos took Gamora, and Rocket and Groot are with Thor."
"Tony, Peter and Strange". Tony speaks quickly, pointing to each one. Quill starts to fiddle with a device, and soon starts talking again.
"The heck happened to this planet?" Everyone was watching him. “It’s eight degrees off its axis. Gravitational pull is all over the place”.
"Yeah, we got one advantage." Tony approaches Quill, leaving Peter to watch Mantis, who randomly jumped where she was. "He’s coming to us". Tony turns to the others. “We’ll use it. Alright, I have a plan. Or at least the begginnings of one”. Quill turns to him. "It's pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. Definitely don’t wanna dance with this guy. We just want the gauntlet”. Drax yawns, making Tony turn to him without patience. “Are you yawning? In the middle of this, while I’m breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”
"I stopped listening after you said, we need a plan". Tony takes a deep breath, it seemed that the three were seven times more difficult than his daughter.
"Okay, Mr. Clean is on his own page". Tony turns to Quill.
“See, ‘not winging it’ isn’t really what they do”. Quill informs Tony and Peter.
"Uh, what exactly is it that they do?" Parker asks, looking at Quill.
"Kick names, take ass". Mantis replies.
"Yeah, that's right". Drax agrees, making Tony roll his eyes in silence, thinking about what they have in hand.
"Alright, just get over here, please". Quill looks at Tony confused. "Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?"
"‘Mr. Lord’. Star Lord is fine”. With a quick nod, Drax and Mantis join the three at the circle.
"We gotta coalesce". Tony crosses his arms. "‘Cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude…”
"Dude, don't call us plucky". Quill speaks, rolling his eyes. “We don't know what it means. Alright, we’re optimistic, yes. I liked your plan. Except it sucks, so let me do the plan, and that way it might be really good”.
“Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe”. Drax says, making Tony take a deep breath, where had they gone?
"What dance-off?" Tony asks.
"It’s not a… It’s not… It’s nothing". Quill responds quickly.
"Like the Footloose, the movie?" Peter asks, making Quill smile.
"Exactly like Footloose". Parker looks at him confused. "Is it still the greatest movie in history?"
"It never was". Peter responds quickly, getting quiet again.
"Don’t encourage this, alright?" Tony tells Peter, who quickly agrees. "We’re getting no help from Flash Gordon here". Tony approaches Peter, standing beside him.
“Flash Gordon? By the way, that’s a compliment". The two turn to Quill, who was approaching them. "Don't forget, I'm half human. So that 50% of me that’s stupid..." Tony nods. "That’s 100% you".
"Your math is blowing my mind". Tony comments, turning his gaze to the floor.
"Excuse me, but…" Mantis says softly, making everyone look at her, and consequently at Strange. "Does your friend often do that?" Tony looks nervously in his direction, the man was doing something with the Time Stone, but it didn't seem to be doing him any good, his head was moving all over the place and the man was floating, definitely not normal.
"Strange, we alright?" He didn't seem to hear, so Tony approached slowly, and soon the man woke up from what he was doing, falling to the ground, Tony holding the same, who was breathing quickly. "You’re back". The others approached the two with concerned looks. "You’re alright".
"Hey, what was that?" Peter asks nervously.
"I went forward in time to view alternative futures." Strange was speaking with difficulty, still trying to breathe properly. "To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict".
"How many did you see?" Quill asks.
"14,000,605".
"How many did we win?" Tony asks worriedly.
"One".
 ☼
           When the Quinjet landed in Wakanda, Elisabeth didn’t know what to expect. Steve and Natasha left first, and it was possible to see that the new king of Wakanda was already there and accompanied by some of his soldiers. She never imagined that she would visit Wakanda, and if she ever did, it would be under better circumstances. Lisa was walking beside Rhodes and Banner, and she could hear when the scientist asked if they should bow, she could practically hear the smile when Rhodey said they should, because T’Challa was a king.
 "Seems like I'm always thanking you for something." Steve speaks looking at the king, who just smiles, shaking his hand, is when Bruce starts to kneel, earning him a disapproving look.
"What are you doing?" Elisabeth whispers as she joins Rhodes, who keeps a smile on his face.
"Uh, we don't do that here”. Bruce gives an embarrassed smile, exchanging looks with his partner beside him. "So how big of an assault can we expect?" T’Challa speaks, starting to walk with the other Wakandians, being followed by the team.
"Uh, sir, I think you can expect quite a big assault". Banner speaks, approaching Rogers, who just looks at him with a weak smile, Bruce was gone for two years, but it seemed that he had never lived on Earth, lost all customs from there.
"How we looking?" Natasha asks, looking at the girl who was in the middle of Steve and her.
"You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and..." Elisabeth's eyes followed Wanda and Vision being guided by two guards, but she soon gained something new to look at, coming towards the group, James Barnes approached with a smile.
"A semi-stable, 100-year-old man". Steve smiles widely, hugging his friend.
"How you been, Bucky?"
"Uh, not bad, for the end of the world". Bucky responds, and then T’Challa guides them to where Vision had been taken for analysis, that’s where the team met Shuri, the king’s sister. Bruce and Elisabeth offered to help her, since Bruce had helped with the creation of Vision, and Elisabeth read just about everything her father had about him, and the knowledge needed to be able to help. Banner was impressed with how smart the girl got with each passing day, he couldn't wait any less, the girl was a Stark.
"Whoa, the structure is polymorphic". Shuri says after evaluating the structure of the Stone.
"Right, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially". Bruce informs, receiving a curious look from Shuri.
"Why didn't you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?" Vision looks at Bruce curiously, Banner just looks at her without knowing what to say and takes a deep breath.
"Because… We didn’t think of it"
"I’m sure you did your best". Shuri says with a huge smile on his face, eliciting a weak laugh from Elisabeth.
"Can you do it?" Wanda asks.
"Yes, but there are more than two trillion neurons here”. Shuri stares at the three near the table, looking back at Vision. "One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures". She looks back at the king. "It will take time, brother".
"How long?" Steve asks, they didn't know how much time they would have for this to work, they didn't know how long they would have before Thanos attacked again, they needed to do it right.
"As long as you can give me". Suddenly, the technology on Okoye's wrist starts to fire, indicating that something was not right around Wakanda.
"Something’s entered the atmosphere." Elisabeth joins the others, approaching the window of the room, seeing what had entered, several ships falling around the land of Wakanda, they didn’t have much time.
"It's too late". Vision speaks, having difficulty sitting. "We need to destroy the stone now".
"Vision, get your ass back to the table". Natasha speaks, leaving the room.
"We will hold them off". T'Challa speaks, starting to walk around the room, being followed by the guards, Steve turns his gaze to Wanda, taking a deep breath.
"Wanda, as soon as that stone’s out of his head... You blow it to hell".
"I will".
“Evacuate the city. Engage all defenses procedures”. The king turns to Steve. "And get this man a shield." Everyone started to leave the room, except for the one who would be responsible for the stone, Stark and Banner.
"Your green friend isn’t going to join the battle, is he?" Banner shakes his head. "Maybe he doesn't have to..." Bruce looks at her confused, and Lisa instructs him to follow her. Elisabeth quickly informs her what she needed to do for the king, and it gives her enough space to call for the armor she needed.
 The Veronica suit was worn when the Hulk lost control during one of Ultron's attacks, and it was time for her to be used again. Elisabeth quickly accessed the satellites, and waited for the King of Wakanda's cue, where he would allow a piece of the dome to open up for the armor to pass, and it would be in this way that Bruce Banner would join the battle, not with the Hulk, but with a Hulkbuster.
 "Oh, yeah". Strange says when he sees Thanos leaving the portal created by the Space Stone, the plan was set, ambush Thanos and take his gauntlet out, and Strange would follow the plan, making the enemy think that only he would face him. "You’re much more of a Thanos."
"I take it the Maw is dead". Thanos replies, noting that his partner wasn’t there with the stone, but rather, the stone keeper himself, who just nods. "This day extracts a heavy toll. Still, he accomplished his mission". Thanos starts to approach the stairs that Strange was sitting on.
"You may regret that". Stephen warns. “He brought you face-to-face with the Master of Mystic Arts”.
"And where do you think he brought you?" Thanos continues to approach.
"Let me guess. Your home?" Thanos stops at the beginning of the stairs.
"It was". With a quick movement, his hand closes, and the Reality Gem begins to shine, and soon all around him is transformed, showing what that planet once was. “And it was beautiful. Titan was like most planets. Too many mouths, and not enough food to go around. And when we faced extinction, I offered a solution”.
"Genocide". Strange completes, watching Thanos' expressions.
“But at random, dispassionate, fair to rich and poor alike”. Thanos turns his gaze to Doctor Strange. “They called me a madman. And what I predicted came to pass”. He stops using the Reality Stone, showing the destroyed planet.
"Congratulations. You’re a prophet".
"I’m a survivor".
"Who wants to murder trillions".
"With all six stones, I could simply snap my fingers…" With his free hand, Thanos snaps his fingers, demonstrating how easy it would be. “And they would all cease to exist. I call that mercy”.
"And then what?" Strange gets up, starting to approach.
"I finally rest..." Thanos takes a deep breath. “And watch the sun rise on a grateful universe. The hardest choices require strongest wills”.
"I think you’ll find our will equal to yours." Strange moves his hands quickly, summoning his Mandalas, preparing for the fight.
"Ours?" Thanos looks up, seeing the piece of stone that was coming at high speed towards him, with a quick movement, he closes the hand of the gauntlet, using the Power Stone to defend himself.
"Piece of cake, Quill". Tony speaks, dropping the stone and passing the Starlord, who just rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, if your goal was to piss him off."
 Quill activates his helmet, starting to fly. Thanos soon breaks the stone dropped on himself, and the team could see when the purple stone on the gauntlet stopped glowing and the red one took over, causing the stone's debris to turn into bats and attack Stark. Peter throws a web under Thanos eyes, and quickly kicks him, while Drax stabs one of his legs, and soon starts attacking his upper part, followed by Strange, who emerged from a portal.
With difficulty, Thanos throws Drax away, holding the sword created by Strange. He finally takes the web out of his eyes, staring at Strange, in a quick stroke, he breaks the spell of the sword, and kicks Strange away, which resists the blow, and already does another spell to fight back. An attack from behind made by Quill, hits Thanos back, who tries to fight back, but fails because Star Lord and Doctor Strange coordinate an attack together, which results in Quill depositing a shock bomb on Thanos back, which disoriented by the shock suffered. Strange quickly opens a portal and Quill leaps out of it.
 "Do not let him close his fist". Strange orders to his cloak, which quickly grips the hand with the gauntlet, leaving Thanos trying to get it out of his fist.
"Magic!" A new portal opens behind Thanos, and Peter passes him by punching him in the face, and then entering another portal. "More magic!” Again, and Thanos seemed to be paying attention to the coordinated attack. "Magic with a kick!" Peter yells through another portal. "Magic with a--" Thanos let himself be hit one last time, and when the portal opened again, he grabbed Peter by the neck, hitting the boy on the floor.
"Insect!”
 With a quick move, he throws Peter against Strange, knocking them both down, and that's when he finally rips the cloak off his wrist, only to be met with an Iron Man missile attack. Thanos closes his hand, using the Space and Power Stones, to suck the energy from the explosions and turn them against Tony, who is hit and thrown away. Peter hits the gauntlet with a web, pulling his fist down, Thanos soon breaks the web, tearing what is left of the gauntlet, without being able to attack back, a small ship is thrown against Thanos, revealing a new fighter.
 "Well, well". Thanos lets go, staring at the woman he knew very well.
"You should have killed me!"
"It would’ve been a waste of parts!" The woman follows a series of attacks, which didn’t appear to affect Thanos.
"Where's Gamora?!"
 With a kick, Thanos tosses it away, being met by another attack by Strange, several magical threads trying to pull the gauntlet, something Thanos tried to loosen with his other hand, but was kicked in the leg by Drax, even so, he reacted to that, and started pulling the magic threads, pulling Strange close. Quill used a device to pull Thanos hand, making him unable to pull anymore, while Peter held him with one of his webs.
Tony takes the place of the wires, and begins to pull the gauntlet, under Thanos head, Strange opens a portal, through which Mantis passes and sits with his legs around Thanos neck, quickly placing his hands on his head. From there, everyone collaborated to hold Thanos. Mantis held him still, controlling his mind, while Drax held his legs, Peter and Strange his other hand and Tony was still trying to pull the gauntlet off.
 "Is he under? Don’t let up" Tony says, analyzing the situation.
"Be quick. He is very strong". Mantis informs with difficulty, Tony takes a deep breath, looking at Peter.
“Parker, help! Get over here". Peter quickly runs to his side, holding the gauntlet. “She can't hold him much longer. Let's go!" The two begin to pull, while Quill lands in front of everyone.
"You need to open your fingers to take it out." Peter speaks by pulling hard on the gauntlet.
"I thought you’d be harder to catch." Quill looks at Stark. “For the record, this is my plan”. Quill looks back at Thanos, approaching. “Not so strong now, huh? Where's Gamora?”
"My Gamora…?" Thanos speaks with difficulty, as if he is in pain.
"No, bull-shit". Quill speaks quickly, facing the other angrily. "Where is she?"
"He is in anguish." Mantis informs.
"Good". Quill speaks, facing Thanos, but Mantis' expression changes.
"He… He mourns”.
"What does this monster have to mourn?" Drax asks.
"Gamora". The woman who had joined the fight later says, she was standing behind Quill, and looking at Thanos angrily.
"What?" Quill turns to the woman, taking a deep breath.
"He took her to Vormir”. The woman speaks slowly. "He came back with the Soul Stone, but she didn't."
"Okay, Quill..." Tony retracts his helmet, looking directly at the man, everyone there seems to understand, and all they didn't need was to miss this opportunity. “You gotta cool it right now, you understand?" Quill seems to ignore the same, turning his gaze to Thanos. "Don’t, don’t engage, we’ve almost got this off!” Tony screams, seeing that it would be useless to keep trying to talk, then pull the handle back with all the strength he has.
"TELL ME SHE’S LYING!" Quill screams. “Asshole! Tell me you didn't do that!”
"I… had… to". Thanos speaks with difficulty, making Quill take a deep breath.
"No, you didn't." Quill speaks slowly. "No, you didn't." He repeats again, before placing a punch in Thanos's face, moving the structure they had set up to hold him. "NO, YOU DIDN'T!" He punches one more, feeling the anger seep through his body, and before he can deliver more, Tony takes his hand, holding him back.
"QUILL!" His helmet comes back, and he looks at Quill, holding the man. “Hey, stop! STOP!"
“It's coming! I got it!" Peter announces, but before he can take it out, Thanos awakens, headbutting Mantis, and pulling the gauntlet back on quickly, he holds one of Mantis' legs and throws it away. "Oh, God..." Before jumping quickly and holding her against his body, using the mechanical arms to fall to the floor without getting hurt.
 Thanos kicks Drax forward, hitting Quill and the woman. He pulls the wire that Strange was holding, throwing it away too, Tony tries to attack him, but Thanos retaliates with a punch, pushing him away. Quill, Drax and the woman start to get up and run, but using the Power Stone, Thanos knocks them down again. Tony molds one of his armor's arms into a giant sword, and tries to attack again, which doesn't seem to affect the man, who just defends himself and throws Tony away again.
From where Tony lands, he could see Thanos wearing another of the Stones, to pull a moon from the sky, he tries to fly when he sees the huge stone approaching, but he cannot escape and ends up trapped under it. The other pieces of the moon still fell under Titan, and Peter swung from web to web saving the companions from the remnants of the moon, with the impact of the larger stone, all who were temporarily fallen flew away.
 "I got you, and you!" Peter tried to remain calm, he knew the plan had gone wrong, and he feared what would happen next, but he tried to remain calm, he needed to make sure that everyone was well and safe from the rest of Thanos's attack. "Sorry I can’t remember anybody's name!"
 While Peter was sure he had saved everyone and placed them close to where he had left Mantis, he could see Strange fighting Thanos, all of Doctor Strange's movements were precisely calculated, and Thanos didn't seem to be affected by any of that, just dodged and remained trying to attack. Peter continued to follow their struggle and saw Strange perform a doubling spell. Thanos didn't seem to be affected, he just wore a combination of Jewels and found the real one, eliminating the copies, using the stones again he pulled Strange close to him, holding his neck.
 "You’re full of tricks, wizard." Peter sees Thanos pulling Strange's eye necklace, seeing him despair. "Yet you never once used greatest weapon”. Peter approached, watching Thanos crush the necklace. "A fake". Thanos tosses Strange away, and Parker was about to act when he saw a part of Tony's armor cling to the gauntlet's hand, preventing him from closing his hand again.
"You throw another moon at me..." Tony says after landing near Thanos. "And I'm going to lose it."
"Stark".
"You know me?" Tony asks nervously, the man in front of him was his nightmare for years, and he was finally face-to-face with him.
"I do". Thanos says calm. "You’re not the only one cursed with knowledge".
"My only curse is you."
 Peter sees Tony resume the attack, and although it started well, it didn’t end gloriously for Tony. He managed to fight back in the best way he could, and even managed to make a bleeding wound on Thanos, something that the man mocked Tony for having managed to do, the fight continued, and it was Thanos's turn to fight back, which ended up with Stark being stabbed with a piece of his own armor.
 "You have my respect, Stark". Thanos says, holding Tony's head, who held the spot where the armor was tucked. "When I'm done, half of humanity will still be alive." Thanos releases his head, moving away. "I hope they remember you." Without saying anything else, Thanos closes his hand, ready to use the four Jewels.
"Stop!" Strange speaks, drawing Thanos's attention. "Spare his life..." Tony turns his gaze to Stephen, not believing what he heard. "And I will give you the stone."
"No tricks". Stephen nods in agreement, and Thanos changes the target of the stones, ready to end Strange if he were lying.
"Don’t". Tony speaks with difficulty, something that Strange ignores, since he reveals the stone with his hands and hands it to Thanos, seeing the same quickly put it on the gauntlet.
"Only one to go". Quill last tried to attack Thanos, but he creates a portal with the Space Stone and disappears from there. Leaving everyone there, aimlessly.
"Did we lose?" Quill asks, taking a deep breath, Tony uses a last resort of the armor, to stop the blood from his abdomen.
"Why would you do that?" Tony asks, staring at Strange.
"We’re in the Endgame now."
 ☼
           Things weren’t going well, not even far. Elisabeth fought with everything she had, she had already fallen and stood up several times, and that didn't seem to be enough for her. She saw when Thor and two other partners joined the battle, and she saw when Wanda started to fight too, she saw Vision being attacked and heard Banner's call about Vision. She flew as fast as she could, and saw Bruce pull the largest of the ‘Children of Thanos' away from the Vision, leaving the other, she tried to defend Vision, fought the alien, and was thrown away after delivering a few blows, the alien didn't seem affected and just attacked Vision once again.
 "I thought you were formidable, machine". Elisabeth gets up, checking the damage to the armor, there were many, but she couldn't think about it now. "But you’re dying, like any man". She ran towards the alien, pushing him away from Vision, who just stayed on the ground, trying to recover from another blow, so she saw Steve running towards her, making a coordinated attack with her.
"GET OUTTTA HERE!" Steve yells towards the Vision, who just looks at him taking a deep breath. "GO!"
 The attack of the two continued, until the alien threw Steve away, and Elisabeth was left alone to fight, which didn’t end very well, since he hit a part of her leg, causing her to fall, and the alien grab her neck with his hand. Steve tried to focus his eyes on her, and help Elisabeth, but it wasn’t necessary when he saw Vision with the enemy's spear attack the alien, taking him off Lisa and finally killing him. Vision was weak, so as soon as the attack ended, he fell to his knees next to Elisabeth, who was trying to recover her breath, Steve ran close to the two, helping Vision to get up.
 "I thought I told you to go." Steve says looking at him, that he just smiles weakly and replies.
"We don't trade lives, Captain." Elisabeth remained with Vision until Wanda arrived, when the woman ran close to him, Lisa got up and went towards Steve.
"How are things going for the others?" She asks worriedly, her helmet retracts with the rest of the suit and Steve can see her tired face, her blond hair was stuck in a bun made at the last minute, and her face had several bleeding bruises, he couldn't even imagine how the rest of her body was, it was not the place he wanted her to be, and he couldn’t think how much Tony wouldn't want her to be there too.
"Everyone is holding on as they can." Elisabeth nods, taking a deep breath. "Are you okay?" Before she could respond, Vision let out an agonized cry of pain, causing the two to turn to Wanda and Vision.
"What?" Wanda asks. "What is it?"
"He’s here". Stark turns his gaze to Steve, putting her suit back on and standing next to him, Rogers puts his hand on the communicator to his ear and starts talking.
"Everyone, on my position". If what Vision said was right, Thanos had finally arrived, and none of them were in any shape to face him alone. "We have incoming". Everyone approached quickly, and watched the blue-colored portal open, and a large man emerged from it.
"Cap". Bruce says softly. "That’s him".
"Eyes up." Captain pulls his shield, starting to walk towards Thanos. "Stay sharp".
 Elisabeth saw when Bruce tried to attack him, and all Thanos had to do was use one of the stones and pin the man into a wall. She saw him use another stone to send Steve away, she saw him take down T’Challa and she saw him turn Sam’s wings into nothing. She tried to attack him too, but like the others, she couldn't even get close, her body was tired, and she had bruises over most of her body, her heart was pounding, and she felt like everyone had failed.
All that was left of everyone there was to see Wanda fight. Watching her kill the love of her life and at the same time preventing Thanos from getting close, she fought, and fought and in the end, the Mind Stone was destroyed, as was Vision, who was now dead. Elisabeth tried to get up, like the others, Thanos approached Wanda and the corpse of Vision, and started talking to the woman.
 "I understand, my child". Wanda looked at Vision, she cried, and she didn't have the strength to fight him again. "Better than anyone".
"You could never." From where Elisabeth was, she could see Thanos put his hand on Wanda's head, and take a deep breath.
"Today, I lost more than you can know". He gets up looking at the Vision. "But now is no time to mourn". He starts to get closer. "Now, is no time at all." Unable to react, Thanos uses one of the stones, and as if by magic, Vision who had died within seconds, was alive now.
"NO!"
 Wanda tries to attack him, but he just throws her away, pulling Vision by the neck, he pulls the jewel off his head, and throws it to the side as if it is nothing. And finally, he has the last stone, Elisabeth looks desperately towards Steve, who seemed mesmerized by what had just happened, thunder strikes Thanos, and Thor announces his arrival to the titan, throwing his axe in his direction, hitting his chest. Thor approaches, holding his head.
 "I told you..." He holds the ax head. "You’d die for that!" With that Thor squeezes the axe across his chest, making Thanos scream.
"You should have..." Thanos starts with difficulty. "You should have gone for the head." Thor looked at him confused, but soon realized what he meant, quickly Thanos snapped his fingers with the gauntlet, making Thor scream. The stones shone brightly, and when Thor finally saw it, the gauntlet was destroyed, burned, as was Thanos's arm.
"What’d you do?" Thor asks, looking at Thanos. "WHAT’D YOU DO?" Without saying anything else, Thanos uses the stones as a way to escape Thor’s grip.
"Where’d he go?" Steve asks approaching Thor. "Thor?" Steve catches your eye. "Where’d he go?"
"Steve?" Rogers quickly turns to the source of the voice, Bucky approached him, but something was wrong, his body were disappearing, as if he were disintegrating, his legs disappeared causing him to fall to the ground, but before his body hit the ground, he had turned to dust, gone. Steve approaches, playing in the same place where Bucky disappeared, he exchanges glances with Thor, who seemed shaken and without understanding.
 Soon, many around Wakanda started to disappear. Warriors who fought against Thanos's army had the same fate as Bucky, Thanos got what he wanted, it was happening all over the world, half of humanity erased. Steve took a deep breath, and watched one by one, his partners disappear, T’Challa disappeared right after, the tree that came with Thor, Groot, Wanda, Sam, and finally, the girl he considered as a daughter, Elisabeth.
She felt nothing, it seemed that her body was no longer in her control. She remembers looking at Steve with a weak smile, before feeling her legs gone and fall to the ground, Steve ran towards him, being followed by Thor, he hugged her, and assured her that things would be fine, that she would be fine. He will never forget her last words, "Tell Dad and Peter that I'm sorry". And as if it were nothing, they were left there, the survivors of Thanos's snap.
 ☼
           On Titan, Peter helped Tony to his feet. They had lost the fight, lost everything, nothing could fix things now, Strange assured them that was the only way to fix things, Tony didn't think so. All Tony thought about was taking Peter home, he wanted to go home, meet Pepper and Elisabeth, have another normal day with them, it was all he wanted, but things were not going as planned.
 "Something's happening." Mantis says, and then, her body begins to disintegrate, the woman disappears, and all that is left of her is ashes, dust. They turned to Drax, and the same thing was happening to him.
"Quill?" Quill turns to Tony, and somehow, Stark knew, it was happening to him too.
"Steady, Quill".
"Aw, man". It was Quill's last words, before the same thing happened to him.
"Tony". Stark turns to Stephen, who is sitting on the floor, and looks at him seriously. "There was no other way". And then the same thing happens to him, Tony takes a deep breath, it couldn't be happening.
"Mr. Stark?" And Tony realized, the fear on Peter's face, realized that it was happening to him too. "I don't feel so good…"
"You’re all right?” Tony says calmly, and Peter quickly approaches him.
"I don’t know what’s-- I don't know what’s happening…” Peter stumbles, and Tony quickly takes him in his arms, Parker was crying, and Tony didn't know what to do. "I don’t wanna go. I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark, please". Peter kept repeating this, and Tony bent down with the boy in his arms, not knowing what to say or do, Tony laid him on the floor, and Peter looked at him. "She was right, I should’ve stayed on the bus..." Tony didn't understand at the time, but he tried to smile, tried to make sure everything was fine, even though in the end, he knew he wasn't. "I'm sorry..." Those were Peter's last words, Tony hoped it would happen to him too, it was the only fair thing to happen, but he didn't disappear, neither he nor the woman, the two survived it, and Tony wished he hadn't.
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chaoticspacefam · 3 years
Text
Kiss With A Fist
A/N:
quite literally heeheheh ok I’ll see myself out LMAO the rest of this song doesn’t literally apply to these two, they love each other very much and rest assured they’d never actually, deliberately hurt each other. it’s more the general Vibe(tm) of the song that fits their courting process + I really liked the poetic irony of this line used as the quote & the last line of the fic XD Also bear in mind this is from D’leah’s POV and yes, it is semi-ironic on purpose because...it’s D’leah. Any regulars on the blog should be very familiar with mama Sith’s propsensity to be a bully with an overinflated ego at this point *shrugs* XD
OKAY, with that out of the way, here we go! A little oneshot. I haven’t sat down to properly write or edit for a good long while, but this is still one of my favourite oneshots that I’ve ever written tbh, so...enjoy! 😄😄 I’ll leave it up to reader interpretation as to whether they actually finished the mission her brother & dad sent them out on or got sidetracked(tm) 👀😉
I don’t think it needs a particular warning since it’s literally one sentence but there is a mention of killing an assassin in the middle of this (under the cut) so ig be aware of that. It’s not horribly graphic so should be fine but uhhh, just in case?
                                ----------------------------
“A kick in the teeth is good for some, but a kiss with a fist is better than none!” ~Florence & the Machine
Of all the Royal Guards that could have possibly been assigned to accompany her on this mission, it had to be this one. The heiress would be lying if she said she wasn't a tad bitter by the Emperor's insistence on that arrangement; she'd attempted to change his mind in a moment of desperation in the past, but her father would hear nothing of it, patting her on the shoulder and claiming that none of the others had the skill level for this sort of task, or to keep up with her during it. So, once more, she was resigned to the company of the fool who, despite her snapping, always seemed to turn up when he was least wanted and needed. 
(This was, of course, not the case and given that his entire purpose was to protect the heiress from threats, perhaps she should have been more tolerant of his presence, or perhaps her protests stemmed less from annoyance and more from something else than she was willing to admit…)
 And he had been fraying D'leah's nerves ever since they'd landed on Tatooine this morning. Kissai had enough arrogance for the both of them, and he seemed to have gotten the idea into his head that she couldn't take care of herself without him needing to jump in to "rescue" her at the most inopportune moment. It was infuriating. She did not need him charging in to help, she could handle herself just fine.
Everything about this man irritated her to no end: the way he stomped around with his great big feet and woke half the karkin’ planet, his habit of always being right behind her whenever she turned around, the way he kept grabbing her by the shoulder to pull her back and insist he, of all people, went first; his stupid face and that annoying, oaf-ish smile of his…
She’d been so busy internally cursing her Guard that she’d failed to notice the man who had been tailing them since the spaceport; in fact, she only noticed him in the first place when she heard his spine crack as Kissai lifted him into the air with the Force, then flung the body down in front of her almost pointedly.
D’leah let out an agitated hiss as her amber eyes flicked from the corpse at her feet, to his face as he raised both browstalks at her as if to say "I told you so", then back again, and sputtered.
“He wasn’t going to shoot me.” 
“I think you’ll find he was, princess.” Kissai retorted smoothly, plucking the man’s blaster pistol off the ground and waving it at her as he added, “You’re welcome, by the way.” She bristled faintly at the word ‘princess’. Sometimes when she was in a good mood, she’d slip up and let it slide without correcting him. Today, after the morning she’d had, D’leah was in no mood to put up with it.
“I don’t need you following me around like a lost Tuk’ata pup!” she snapped at him, trudging onwards and praying he’d catch his stomping feet in a sinkhole when he tried to follow her.
“Your father seems to think otherwise.” The man simply laughed the comment off, pulling his hood up to protect his face from the sand that whipped into a vortex around them. His voice dropped an octave, to become a more serious growl. “Are you forgetting that my entire job is to protect you?” 
The Ahaszaai High Lady snarled under her breath, checking the locator beacon Duuma had given her as she ducked into the alcove it indicated. The lost artifact should be around here somewhere…
“I don’t need protecting, I can take care of myself just fine!” 
“Mm, of course, D’leahane, because Sith who can take care of themselves usually almost get decapitated by assassins.” Kissai snorted, though she could practically hear the shit-eating grin in his voice, “I think your father’s right to ask me to accompany you. You’d have died three times today if I hadn’t.”
“GO JUMP IN A SARLACC PIT!” she shouted back at him. 
“And there are the creative insults your brother warned me about.” 
D’leah paused in her search to turn her head and give him a dirty look over her shoulder, intoning menacingly. “I’ll kill him when I see him next.” 
Kissai’s expression moulded into one of concern this time, the red-eyed Pureblood blinking at her uncertainly as he reminded her. “...You don’t know which one it was.”
Now it was her turn to grin at him.
“Don’t need to, I have a fifty-fifty shot.”
“No wonder they’re both afraid of you.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. Truthfully, the High Lady was doing her best to ignore his obvious needling as she ducked through another archway and moved further into the cave system, the words she threw over her shoulder echoing back to him off the empty passageway’s walls.
“You should be afraid of me, too. I could end you.”
She was surprised he was still behind her, he could move rather fast despite his large frame, it would seem. D’leah tried not to be too impressed by that fact, but if she was being honest...
“Does it bother you that I’m not, princess?” 
He wasn’t going to drop this, was he? She’d been about to levitate a pile of rocks out of their path, but stopped and spun around to glare at him instead.
“Don’t you “princess” me, you...you…” just when she needed it the most, her ability to think of an appropriate insult failed her, and instead she trailed off into awkward silence. Kissai took that as an invitation to make her even more irritated that his wit was quicker than hers, and added, grinning the whole while: “If you’re trying to think of something you haven’t called me yet, we’ll be here for a good century or so.”
“Fool.” she hissed in frustration. He had her on the ropes, now, and that wasn’t somewhere the Ahaszaai heiress was used to being.  “Is that the best one you have? Did I wear you out, my Lord~?” he crooned back at her, and that was when D’leah put her foot down. She flung a few bolts of lightning in his direction for good measure. As she had suspected, his reflexes were as good as his saber skills and he easily deflected them off his palm before the electricity did any damage, swatting them aside into the wall as if he were brushing dust off his cloak.
“I knew you were going to do that, too...do you really think I can’t handle you?” he teased fondly. 
“I’ve no time for oafs the likes of you.” D’leah growled.
"Then tell me to leave you alone." he stared back at her seriously, browstalks furrowing as his gaze slid from hers to focus on the rest of her face, as if searching her expression for a nonverbal cue he might have missed. "At your word, my Lord, you'll not hear another thing from me beyond those necessary for my duty." 
Looking into his eyes in that moment, she was forced to admit the reality that perhaps she didn’t want him to leave her alone. He’d figured out she was testing him, and now he was calling her bluff, the kriffing, good-looking bastard.  Her jaw spurs rattled in annoyance, but D'leah's lips remained sealed. He waited a full minute, still studying her carefully, to give her plenty of opportunity to voice her thoughts. 
She didn't. The corners of Kissai's mouth turned upwards into a faint smile. 
"That's what I thought." he stepped away from her again, but not before slipping up and forgetting his station for long enough to murmur fondly, "Your nose scrunches up when you're sulking, you know. It’s cute."
D'leah could let "princess" slide on a good day, as far as his pet names went it was among those she considered tolerable, but she drew the line at "cute"! Annoyed and frustrated in more ways than one, she strode after him to reach up and grab the taller Pureblood's shoulder to stop him in his tracks. The Guard turned towards her again, a small, confused noise rumbling in his throat.
First she punched him in the jaw, then she kissed him. Hard. And that was the end of that.
#swtor#swtor fanfiction#elven's writing#subterfugeverse#swtor oc: d'leah ahaszaai#sith heiress#swtor oc: kissai ahaszaai#d'leah/kissai#d'leahssai#is this classified as a meet cute; a meet-ugly; or some sort of weird in-between version of *BOTH*? you guys decide hahahaha#this *is* a prequel of sorts ;) i'm finally trying to sort out my askbox and clear it so i can open it again in a few months' time#so that oneshot will go out next week; if fanfic/writing gods are with me and i can finally finish writing it 🙏#d'leah: stop saving me all the time; i can save myself!!!#also d'leah: constantly walks her ass into danger with alarming regularity#emperor ahaszaai: uh; yeah; hey....izreni do you....do you think you could; maybe; stop her from doing that. great; thanks#d'leah likes to blame kissai for saarai's knack of throwing herself into danger like some sort of damage/blaster bolt sponge#but the truth is it's actually *BOTH* their faults; d'leah's just as bad at wandering into dangerous situations#it's just that kissai's whole ass job is to jump in the way before something bad happens *to* her#i really enjoy writing their dynamic it's so much fun#it's a blend of bodyguard/royalty; ''only i get to make fun of/beat them up''#and later on once they're married: well-meaning idiot/''oh fuck that's *MY* idiot!!''#it's great XD#i need to find a better title/''name'' for the Royal Guard(s) but atm i'm drawing a blank so generic filler fantasy moniker(tm) it is !#(for now)#also yes the jaw spurs *are* bone and they *do* emote with them; bioware are cowards and no i will not stop with that headcanon LMAO#i could write a whole ass essay on that point alone#maybe one day when i actually manage to draw the examples like i keep saying i will XD
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mcwriting · 4 years
Text
La Vita Dolce
[Edit] Before you read this, I scheduled this post last week and forgot about it until I logged on and realized it had posted. I want to take a minute to recognize George Floyd. This was in no way uploaded to diminish this situation or pretend like it hasn’t happened. It was a disgusting act of violence and murder.
Thank you for understanding, and I hope you can all forgive my carelessness.
------
Hiiii everyone. I know you all just want me to update starstruck or release the London boy sequel but here’s this instead ;)
Tbh it’s mostly an excuse for me to use some of my Italian in a one shot but it’s cute too!
Fandom: Tom Holland
Ship: Tom x reader
Setting: Venice, Italy
Word Count: 2678
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, but that’s it I think
Rating: K 
+
Early summer in Italy was like no other. 
Sure it was a little hot, but heat didn’t beat the beautiful sights, delicious food, and incredible history it held. 
Studying abroad in Venice was like a dream. You’d found a small group to hang with from your classes, and they were happy to have you around to translate since you’d studied the language back home first.
With only a week left to go, you all headed to a bar near Piazza San Marco for some Saturday-night bellinis. You ordered for everyone and waited for the drinks, conversing with the bartender in Italian.
Nearby, you’d caught the eye of a certain brunette boy seated with his friends drinking negronis. 
“Look at that girl, mate. There’s just something about the Italians,” quipped a very tipsy Tom Holland. “Too bad she probably doesn’t speak any English.”
Once retrieving the beverages, your group unknowingly sat at a table right near Tom’s, where you proposed a toast.
“A la vita dolce! Cin cin!” you exclaimed, your friends echoing the last part. (To the sweet life! Cheers!)
Afterwards, you reverted back to English in your typical accent as if nothing had ever happened.
Tom was shocked. He’d been convinced you were a native speaker. Unfortunately for him and you, however, the alcohol was taking a toll on him, and he resigned himself back to his hotel before he did something stupid.
+
Tuesday afternoon you were free, so your group decided to head back to Piazza San Marco to go take pictures at the docks and maybe grab a gelato.
Unfortunately, that plan was derailed when you found the square blocked off and a crew with cameras and other equipment. You were about to head back when you heard a male voice shouting.
“Chi vorrebbe essere in un film?”
“What’s that?” one friend, Sabrina, asked.
“He’s asking if anyone wants to be in a movie,” you answered. “They must be looking for extras.”
“We totally should!” the other, Anthony, exclaimed.
You all looked at each other. You were dressed decently enough, more like locals than tourists, and you weren’t doing anything better. So, you headed over.
“Lo vorremmo fare, signore,” you said upon coming closer.  (We would like to do it, sir)
“Ah, perfetto! Voi siete perfetti! Seguitemi, per piacere.” (Ah, perfect! You all are perfect! Follow me, please.)
After signing a few papers and explaining that you were Americans and mostly spoke English, you were led to wait with the other extras who were a decent mix of Italian and English speaking people. 
There was still no indication of what they were filming, but suddenly your stomach dropped and heart about leapt from your chest when you saw Tom Holland pass by.
“Ohhhhh man. Oh no. Guys did you see that? That was Tom. Holland. that just walked by. This is insane! How did I not know he was in town!”
Your friends and you tried to stay calm as more time passed and finally a director came to give everyone instructions.
The scene involved Tom talking with someone, so the extras were placed around the piazza doing different activities. You and your friends were sat at a little table to fake talking over glasses of wine.
A while later, Tom and the other cast came out to discuss the scene and do some blocking. You watched them converse, taking a mental image of how Tom looked in costume and the way his hair was styled.
While the director spoke to someone else, you accidentally made eye contact with Tom, who scrunched his eyebrows in confusion at you before turning towards a voice calling his name.
“Woah. Tom Holland just looked at us! This is the best day of my life!” Sabrina said quietly amongst you. 
“Yeah that’s awesome, but did you see the look he gave me? That was really strange,” you followed.
“Maybe you looked familiar,” she replied, so you shrugged it off and prepared for the first take.
+
Many takes later (which involved the actors breaking a few times), and everyone was taking a break to change camera angles and use the bathroom. The extras were allowed to stop by craft services and grab some water as it was a hot day.
While there, you noticed some people going up to Tom to meet him, but you stayed behind to respect his space. You instead continued to watch him while your friends took pictures and talked excitedly with another pair of Americans.
Again, you made eye contact with him, so you quickly darted your eyes away, pretending to join the conversation. 
You became more self aware about how you looked, even though you knew you were fine. You’d worn a flowy floral dress and some nice sandals for pictures, and your hair and makeup were lightly done to compliment the look.
You glanced over again and he was still looking at you, which was getting on your nerves. You were seriously considering going to ask what his problem was when a crew member came to tell everyone to head back to set.
As you began walking that way, you took one last glance back at Tom, who was smiling at you, and quickly described what happened to Sabrina and Anthony.
+
Another set of takes and you paused again to prepare for one last camera set up. This time, your group decided to remain at the table and enjoy the piazza’s views like you’d initially planned.
A few minutes passed of you all just enjoying your time when Sabrina hit your arm lightly.
“Omg y/n!”
“What? Is there a pigeon above me?” you asked, ducking.
“No it’s, it’s-”
“Hi there, sorry to interrupt,” a British male voice spoke. 
You froze momentarily, then slowly turned to see Tom standing right next to you, causing your heartbeat to once again go wild. He looked at you directly.
“Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable earlier, but would you have happened to be at the bar just down that way Saturday?” he asked, pointing vaguely to his right.
“The one around the corner?” you countered. He nodded. “Yeah, actually. We were out celebrating the end of our classes this week. How come?”
There was no way this was happening, right?
“Well, I was there with some mates and thought I recognized you. You speak Italian, right?”
You chuckled at his (correct) claim.
“Yeah, I do. I’m usually the translator for these two fools,” you joked, gesturing forward to your friends. “I’m assuming you heard me speaking to the bartender?”
“Yeah. I actually thought you were a local until I heard you speak English. I was gonna try and talk to you but I was intimidated and my mates needed me to get home. Let’s just say I was somewhat drunk.”
Your heart skipped a beat. Tom Holland. Noticed you in a bar, but didn’t say anything because he was intimidated. This was truly the best day ever.
“Well I can promise you I’m not intimidating, although I will admit that earlier I was gonna confront you about your staring at me.”
Tom laughed and went to reply when he was interrupted by a call from one of his costars to come block for the cameras.
“Well, that’s my cue. See you later?”
“For sure,” was all you could reply as he jogged off. Once he was at a decent distance, you all squealed in delight.
+
Finally, they wrapped for the day as the sun began to provide pink and orange streaks in the sky rather than illuminating the area as before. 
You and your friends prepared to go when a crew member came up to you.
“Excuse me, but you’ve been requested to return to set tomorrow,” he said.
“Wait what?” was all you could say.
“They’d like for you to be extras again for tomorrow’s shoot. Asked for you three specifically. If you’ll follow me I’ll take you over to get your information down and tell you instructions for tomorrow.”
The three of you followed close behind, looking amongst each other in surprise. As you talked to someone in charge, Tom walked by with his brother and best friend. 
His eyes caught yours and he gave you a wink and mouthed “See you tomorrow.” Of course he’d been behind all this. You smirked in response but kept your mouth shut for now, you’d be able to mess with him tomorrow.
+
After one easy final Wednesday morning, Sabrina, Anthony, and you headed out to grab some cappuccinos and pastries for colazione, then made your way around the canals towards set.
They were set up in a building not far from Il Ponte di Rialto along La Canale Grande to get shots around the bridge. You showed a clearance you’d been given the day before and entered the building.
You were dressed today in blush pink palazzo pants and a yellow flowered crop top with flowing sleeves. They’d asked you to specifically wear pants, which you figured had to do with getting in and out of boats.
You followed a halls to a room where other extras awaited instruction. Eventually you were told that everyone would be placed around the sidewalks and in boats once it was time to shoot.
The three of you sat down and were talking when a woman with a clipboard entered the room.
“Is there a y/n y/l/n here?”
You stood up, confused.
“That would be me,” you replied, aware of everyone looking at you.
“Oh good. You’ve been requested for a different part so if you could just follow me...” she trailed, turning out the door.
You looked at Sabrina and Anthony in confusion, but they just gestured for you to leave as you rushed after the woman. She led you to another room where you found directors and actors conversing.
Those facing the door glanced up as you walked in, and Tom’s eyes caught yours. He smiled and fully turned towards you, causing everyone to face you.
“I hear you’re bilingual. Do you know how to memorize a couple lines?” the director asked as soon as you were close.
“I think I can handle that,” you replied nervously.
“Alright good. You’re gonna pretend to do some translating for Tom here since our other actor couldn’t make it. Why don’t you guys go run that while we finish setting things up outside.”
Another person handed you a couple script pages as you and Tom were once again ushered to a new room.
“You know I never officially introduced myself. I’m y/n,” you said once you were alone.
“I know. I overheard your friend say it yesterday. I’m Tom by the way, but I’m guessing you knew that too.”
You laughed talked a few more moments. Eventually an Italian man entered the room and you got to work. The scene involved Tom yelling if anyone could translate Italian, you saying yes, and him pulling you from a sondolo to do so. It was only a few lines, but it was the biggest thing you’d ever done.
Eventually came time to actually shoot the scene, and you waved excitedly to Sabrina and Anthony, who stood on the bridge. They gave you thumbs up and Anthony snuck a picture of you next to Tom.
You quickly blocked in front of the cameras, then got into the tethered boat where three others were sitting. After a few moments of adjustments, the director finally called “action.”
Tom attempted to speak to the Italian man, then frantically looked around the area.
“Does anyone here know English and Italian?” he called.
You went from pretending to speak to the others to looking his way.
“I do!”
He muttered a line, then came and helped pull you from the boat clumsily. You almost tripped, but continued on.
“I need you to tell me what he’s saying,” Tom said. You nodded.
The man, Tom, and you spoke between each other quickly, and the scene ended off with Tom yelling out a “Thank you!” as he ran towards the bridge.
You cut, received some notes, then reset. The main concern was around you getting out of the boat since you’d almost fallen. You ran it exactly the same a couple of times, thankfully not tripping as before.
Later, you were allowed to take some creative liberty and go slightly off script. Since you had to translate lines, Tom and the other man changed it up a bit, so you just followed their leads. 
At one point Tom missed a line so badly that you all broke out laughing. Another time, the man said something in Italian that you misheard, causing you to translate, then realize how wrong it sounded and stop the scene in a fit of giggles.
Finally, however, you were done and they prepared for a shot with some other actors. Tom came up to you as Sabrina and Anthony congratulated you.
“Great job back there, and sorry for almost pulling you into the canal a few times.”
“Hey, water under the bridge,” you winked, “I’m just glad you didn’t dunk me since that water is so nasty. I’d probably have made you pay for emotional damages.”
“I definitely don’t blame you. I really wanted to ask you though if you’d like to go to dinner Friday night? Now that I’m sober and slightly less intimidated, I want to try this again.”
You smiled and glanced back at your friends who were silently trying to hype you up.
“That sounds perfect.”
+
It was your three year anniversary with Tom, and he was surprising you with a trip to an undisclosed location from London. All he’d said was to pack summery clothes and at least one outfit for a nice night out.
You waited with the bags for him to print the tickets and your heart fluttered upon seeing them.
You were going back to Venice, the place you’d first met. 
After filming that scene, you’d been eventually called to Atlanta for a couple of reshoots, and later invited to the premiere. Almost a year of mostly flirting between your Venice date and the premiere led to Tom asking you to be his date that night, and the rest was history.
You hadn’t been back since, so you held back tears as you looked over the water as the plane landed, thinking of all the incredible memories you’d made when studying abroad.
A water taxi brought you to a hotel right off La Canale Grande, where you were shown to a lofted hotel room with a small balcony overlooking the water.
A few days after arriving, Tom told you to dress up, as he’d made reservations for dinner at a prestigious restaurant. After the meal, you strolled around the canals as the nightlife began to come alive.
It wasn’t long until you came upon a bar, the same one Tom had spotted you in about 4 years ago. 
You went in, ordering the same drinks you’d had back then, except this time Tom knew you were his.
“Cin cin?” Tom asked, raising his glass.
“Si, cin cin,” you replied, mimicking the movement before taking a sip.
Eventually, you left and headed back to your hotel. It was late, so only the streetlights illuminated the walkways, dancing off the water in the wind.
You were now in a simple silk robe standing on the balcony, eyes closed as you listened to the sounds of drunken laughter and boats paddling along. 
Two warm arms enveloped you from behind and you let yourself melt into them, leaning your head back to rest under Tom’s chin.
“What are you thinking in that pretty little head of yours?” he whispered.
“How much I love this place. And you. And how I wish we could stay like this forever.”
He hummed and swayed with you for a few minutes before flipping you around to face him. He pulled you into a deep kiss.
“Let’s go inside, babe. This city doesn’t need to see everything we do,” he breathed, a mischievous smile on his face.
With that, you stepped inside, closed the door, and ended the night in the sweetest way possible.
Truly, this was la vita dolce.
+
Ahhh I’m so happy I finished this. Honestly, I probably could’ve put more Italian in this but I’m lazy and didn’t feel like thinking of lines and things to translate back and forth lol. Let me know if you liked this and would like to see more things that utilize Italy and the language! Love you all, as always :)
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im-fairly-whitty · 4 years
Text
The Witcher Wolf: In Plain Sight
Two years have passed since Geralt was cursed with the ability to turn into a wolf whenever his medallion is removed, a curse that's turned into a blessing now that he and Jaskier are partners in everything they do.
It's no exception when they discover a Nilfgaardian army bearing down on Cintra, headed straight toward a certain child surprise. With Jaskier's help and Geralt's enchanted medallion they must find a way to get into the palace, make sure Princess Cirilla is safe, and get out with her in tow if needed, regardless of Queen Calanthe's orders.
[Chapter 1: Into the Fire]  [Chapter 2: Old Friend] [Chapter 3: Bad Luck] 
Chapter 4: So Much For Being Smart
Jaskier wasn’t here. He wasn’t here he wasn’t here he wasn’t here.
“Wolf, are you alright?” Ciri asked, reaching under the table to slip Geralt a bit of meat from her plate.
Geralt gently took it from her hand, stiffly settled back at the foot of her chair to eat it instead of continuing to nervously shift from paw to paw as he scanned the lively ballroom for the missing bard.
He had to be better in control, he had to play his part instead of imagining every single scenario of where Jaskier could be right now, and in what condition.
“He’s probably as bored as I am, two Skellige beasts trapped at a table.” Eist said, looking over at him sympathetically. “Why don’t I take him outside for a bit of fresh air, would do us both some good.”
In the end it had been Eist—Ciri’s step grandfather—who had pushed hardest to have Geralt allowed at the banquet with Ciri. Real white wolves all came from Skellige, which had apparently endeared the prince regent to him. Let him come Calanthe, it’ll almost feel like home having a brute like him under the table.
“Neither of you are getting out of this so easily.” Calanthe said dryly, her courtly smile still fixed on her face as she sipped from a goblet that Geralt could smell held something much stronger than wine. “No matter how much either of you whine or roll on the floor.”
“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t rather be rolling in bed too.” Eist teased.
“Gross.” Ciri said, but Geralt could smell her amusement.
“I think he’s just excited to see so many people.” Mousesack said with a smile, glancing over to meet Geralt’s gaze with a look that held no such happiness.
Because Geralt had managed to spell out (literally) the plan to Mousesack during their afternoon together, that Jaskier was to meet them at the banquet, that he had the medallion that could turn Geralt human again.
And yet here they were, at the banquet with no Jaskier in sight. Most worryingly was the fact that the normal lutist was present, meaning that Jaskier hadn’t even gotten as far as finding him. He might be a bard but Geralt knew Jaskier was resourceful enough to have gotten the competition out of the way on his own.
Something had happened to his bard, perhaps as soon as Geralt had left him behind in the crowded marketplace. Geralt had been a fool to leave him behind, if anything had happened to him-
“I saw the Wraiths of Mörhogg over the channel this morning.” Eist said, voice now sober as he shifted his goblet back and forth on the tabletop.
“Yes, you mentioned.” Calanthe said, sounding very much like she did not want to have this conversation.
“Who?” Ciri asked, looking up from petting Geralt’s head.
“No good will come of it.” Eist said, still staring ahead, watching the boisterous dancers whirling across the ballroom floor as the guests clapped in time with the music. “They're an omen of war.”
“The North has been at war since Nilfgaard took Ebbing.” The Queen said. “If legend is true, the Wild Hunt's years behind the curve.”
“The Nilfgaardian force crossed the Amell Pass.” Eist said, looking at her.
Geralt’s ears pricked. This was what they’d come to Cintra for in the first place after all, to find out if the Queen was taking the Nilfgaardian threat seriously, if Ciri would be kept safe.
“Headed to Sodden, if they're smart.” Calanthe said, still with an utterly unworried smile on her face. “And if not, fifty of your Skelligen ships are on the way. We have more knights. We are prepared in case-”
“Prepared for what?” Ciri interrupted.
“Nothing for you to be concerned about.” The Queen said lightly.
Geralt got to his feet, ears pinned back. It was certainly something for her to be concerned about, something all of them should be concerned about.
“Your dismissive tone says it is.” Ciri sulked, undeterred.
“We're talking of war, girl.” Eist said, leaning past Calanthe to look at Ciri.
“With Nilfgaard?” Ciri asked, confused. “Why?”
“Eist!” Calanthe snapped.
“Should we fall to Nilfgaard, your granddaughter will rule.” Eist said sternly. “She needs to understand the way of things.”
“We will not fall, because we are not under attack!” Calanthe hissed. “She's a child.”
Geralt felt an edge of a growl percolating in the back of his throat as he got to his feet. Which is why she should be protected, already out of the city with him and Jaskier, not kept here in harm’s way under a pretentious ruler’s false confidence.
He saw Mouseack lean back in his chair far enough to shoot Geralt a warning look from behind Eist. Geralt grit his teeth, but managed to keep from snarling at the queen.
It did children no good to have had hard things hidden from them, not when they should be hidden from it instead.
“You won your first battle in Hochebuz when you were my age.” Ciri insisted, absently reaching down to pet him. “I've heard the ballad.”
“Pretty ballads hide bastard truths.” Eist said with a humorless chuckle.
“It's a catchy song.” Ciri insisted, the girl refusing to be defeated so easily.
“Three thousand of my men died.” Calanthe said, fixing her granddaughter with a hard expression. “If we must do this now, here is your first lesson. As in life, it is impossible always to be fully prepared for battle. Keep your sword close...and keep moving.”
Cheering and clapping filled the ballroom as the song came to an end, dancers dispersing to look for new partners while the musicians caught their breath.
Not that any of those musicians mattered.
“Your Majesty, thank you for allowing our company at this splendid affair.” Said a nobleman who had walked up to the table, bowing along with his son.
“Your Highness,” said the young man, looking to Ciri. “would you honor me with a dance?”
Geralt actually did growl this time, looking critically at the young man who wanted to dance with his child surprise. Especially when Ciri had told him earlier how much she hated being made to dance at parties.
“Uh... Martin, I don’t know, I have to stay with Wolf, he-” Ciri started.
“She'd love to.” Calanthe interjected with a smile, shooting a look at her granddaughter.
Ciri grumbled under her breath, quiet enough that likely only Geralt heard her. But she obeyed with a sigh and a forced smile. “Wolf, stay. I’ll be right back.”
Geralt huffed, but sat. He watched Martin lead her onto the dance floor, his pinned back ears relaxing just a bit when he saw Ciri’s smile become genuine as the dance started. Well at least she didn’t really hate it as much as she’d complained. Although if that boy tried anything he was going to be nursing a wolf bite for the next couple weeks.
“Reminds me of your daughter's betrothal feast.” Eist said quietly, a nostalgic smile on his face as he leaned over to his queen.
Geralt huffed, head tipping in the closest to eye rolling a wolf could manage as he padded under the table over to sit by Mousesack’s side. Pavetta’s betrothal feast had ended in an accidental display of unbridled elder magic so fierce it had nearly ripped the castle down. Followed directly but Geralt being a fool enough to saddle himself with the law of surprise. Nothing that warranted anything approaching fond nostalgia.
He looked back to Ciri, the young girl grinning now as she whirled back and forth between partners along to the music. Her eyes shone as she laughed, ducking under arms and stomping in time. Geralt tipped his head in gentle amusement as he watched her.
Well...maybe a little nostalgia...
Geralt’s gaze caught on movement at the far end of the hall, a man with a grey streak in his hair ducking into the ballroom through the massive double doors. A latecomer to a royal banquet? He must be one of the queen’s men for that not be considered an offense.
He watched as the man took a seat at one of the tables, smiling and laughing with the others while he helped himself to a side of ham. Geralt looked away, only for a second latecomer to catch his attention, this time a man in armor. The armored man however looked decidedly un jovial as he made a beeline directly to the man with the grey streak, bending over to whisper something in his ear that made the color drain from his face.
Geralt slowly got to his feet, even his Witcher sharpened wolf hearing unable to pick up their words from across the noise ballroom. A harried man in armor appearing at a party was never never a good sign, and Geralt could already feel a cold heaviness in his gut, even before the armored man nodded to his companion and then made his way directly to the queen’s table.
Geralt nosed at Mousesack’s hand in warning, staring at the approaching man when the druid looked down at him. All four of them at the table looked as the man ducked behind their table to whisper in the queen’s ear.
Geralt nearly missed the man’s words entirely even with his enhanced hearing. Because even as the queen’s face went deadly pale Geralt was growling for an entirely different reason. He had caught the faintest scent of Jaskier on the armored man’s clothing.
Mousesack snatched at Geralt’s collar, narrowly keeping him back as Geralt tried to get at the man.
“Heel, Wolf.” The druid hissed, tightening his grip.
“I stand corrected.” Calanthe said hollowly to Eist, her face deathly pale as the armored man quickly retreated. “They're here. They're already here.”
Geralt whined and growled as he watched the man go, yanking halfheartedly at his collar, unable to make sense of what to do now. He had barely enough common sense under his panic to realize that chasing down and tackling the man in the middle of the banquet hall would not be the best course of action. Upon thinking another moment it also occurred to Geralt that the scent had been so faint that the armored man likely hadn’t actually been around Jaskier at all, but rather around someone who had.
“So much for being smart.” Eist quietly said to his wife, the scent of dread flowing off him. He was watching Ciri dancing with the guests, the party still in full swing and oblivious to the deadly fate quickly closing in on them. “You should tell the girl.”
“Let her enjoy this night in peace.” Calanthe said hollowly. “It may be her last for a while.”
Geralt growled, lunging to his feet and yanking Mousesack out of his chair with him. He was done playing nice. The queen obviously had no plan for keeping Ciri safe, meaning Geralt had to get her out to safety now, hopefully before the armies actually broke down the front gates and swarmed into the castle.
And they would. Geralt had seen firsthand the ruins left behind by Nilfgaardians armies, and the fanatics rarely left behind anything more than ash and charred bones in their wake. A fate that was not going to befall him or Jaskier or Ciri, meaning he had to follow the faint scent trail before it faded.
“I’ll keep an eye on him!” Mousesack hastily called back to the queen as Geralt all but dragged him across the room, heedless of dancers and guests who laughed at the sight.
Geralt burst out the ballroom doors, leaving the noise of the party behind them as he dashed into the hall, the loudest sound now the skittering of his nails on the stone floor and Mousesack’s indignant sounds as he stumbled to keep up.
“Geralt, stop, what are you doing? What are you rushing off after?” Mousesack demanded, giving a mighty yank on the collar that stopped him in his tracks.
Geralt twisted and snapped warningly at the druid’s hand with a growl, startling the man into letting go. He wasn’t an animal to be jerked around, and he wasn’t afraid to remind Mousesack of that fact, not when he was about to lose his chance at finding Jaskier.
He turned away and sniffed the air, frantically pacing across the hall until he picked up the scent again. Jaskier, still faint but stronger now than it had been on the armored man. Geralt had seen him leave with the gray hair streak man, was that who he’d picked the scent up from? Was that the person who knew where his bard was?
He locked onto the scent, dashing down the hallway after it. He heard Mousesack calling after him but ignored it as he scrambled around a corner, down another long hallway and down a steep flight of marble steps. The scent was getting stronger, if he just-
He turned a corner and pulled up short at the sight of two armed guards standing in front of a heavy oak door. The two men stared back at him, blinking in surprise.
“Never seen him around.” One of the guards said to the other. “Think he belongs to one of the guests?”
“Must, what with that pretty collar he’s got.” The other guard responded.
Geralt sniffed the air, pawing uncertainly at the floor. The scent trail led past the guards and through that door.
He started forward, intent on shouldering his way past the guards, but the men shifted into his way.
“Not for you,” one of the guards said sternly, prodding Geralt’s side with the end of his spear. “run off now.”
Geralt snarled, barking at the guards, making them jump. He could feel the prickling sensation of the fur along his spine rising in anger, making him look bigger than he already was.
“You, you don’t reckon he’s some kind of Nilfgaardian mutt?” the first guard said, face paling a bit as he defensively lowered his spear. “There’s something wrong with him, he’s lookin’ at me.”
“Shut up you idiot, it’s just a dog.” the other guard snapped, now lowering the business end of the spear instead. He looked at Geralt. “Get away you dumb animal, unless you fancy being stuck through.”
Geralt growled, the feral noise bubbling up his chest as he thought quickly, he’d have to take them out before they thought to get to their swords, their ceremonial palace armor left a few weak places that he could-
The guard jabbed at him and Geralt ducked under the spike, coming up underneath to latch onto the wooden shaft of the spear and breaking clean through the wood with a snap of his jaws. He yanked the rest of the shaft from the man’s grip, throwing it to the side.
“Bloody hell!” The second guard yelped, his spear clattering to the floor as he drew his sword. “I told you he weren’t normal, he’s one of them mutant Novigrad fighting mutts!”
Geralt snarled, crouching low as he tried to find a weak spot, his chances against two drawn swords and a closed door were becoming ever slimmer as the guards recovered from their shock, but he couldn’t just-
“Stop! Stop it, all of you!”
Geralt growled in irritation as Mousesack turned the corner, feeling a wall of protecting magic sweep between him and the guards, blocking them from getting at each other.
“Watch out sir! He’s rabid!” One of the guards called out.
“He’s not rabid, he’s stupid.” Mousesack snapped. He glared at Geralt. “Are you going to come to your senses and come with me so we can settle this intelligently, or am I going to have to resort to something you’re going to regret to keep you from further embarrassing yourself?”
Geralt’s growl turned to a frustrated whine as his anger simmered into clawing unease. He looked at the spooked guards--armored men he really had no chance of getting past, not in this state--and back to Mousesack, who was looking at him with an expression that said he would have no problem throwing a magic muzzle on him and dragging him out of the castle for this behavior.
Geralt pawed at his face, huffing a strained sigh.
“Good.” Mousesack said tightly, dropping his wall of magic.
“Hadn’t we better kill it sir?” One of the guards asked, not lowering his sword. “There’s something unnatural about it sir, I don’t fancy being sieged in here with the likes of him what with the Nilfgaardians coming. Master Wilhelm’s saying no one’s to leave the castle.”
“Then I suggest you focus on your own duties.” Mousesack said, shooting Geralt a look before turning to leave. “Melitile knows we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
Geralt slunk after him, following in anxious silence until they were out of earshot of the guards.
“Is this something to do with Jaskier?” Mousesack asked, turning to face him. “I can’t think of what else would have you dashing off like a fool. Were you really going to try attacking two armed guards with nothing but your teeth?”
Geralt whined, shifting from paw to paw, wishing desperately that he could speak. We have to follow the scent, with your help we can get past the guards.
“I promised I would help you however I can, but you promised you wouldn’t do anything rash.” Mousesack said, “That door leads to parts of the castle not even I can go without express permission from her majesty or her spymaster. Especially not when the castle has just been placed under lockdown.”
Geralt barked in frustration, taking a step back toward the door, looking at the druid. But Jaskier’s scent led there, it was already fading, they were losing him.
“I’m sorry my friend, but without a plan I cannot help you and we can’t make a plan if you can’t tell me what’s wrong. I know this is frustrating but we’ll need to go back to my office to spell out what you’re thinking, and I must attend to the princess and the queen. I want to help you, but I also have my duties to the royal family first. I’m not going to commit treason by attacking their guards without knowing why just because it seems a wolf wants me to. You understand?”
Geralt was silent, staring off at nothing in tense resignation. Without Mousesack’s help he couldn’t follow the trail, and by the time he would be able to tell him the scent would have faded away. As a wolf he had no choice but to follow the druid’s direction, he depended too much on the man’s protection in a castle full of people who would happily skin him otherwise, even before knowing who he really was.
His tail tucked a bit between his legs, his head lowering a little. He missed Jaskier.
“Come, we’ll handle this as well as we can.” Mousesack said, starting down the hall again. “My guess is we have less than an hour at most before the guests realize they won’t be leaving this castle. Once that happens I’ll likely be asked to stay with Princess Cirilla as her protective escort while the queen decides what is to be done about this disaster. This is the only chance we’ll have to communicate in private for what I think is going to be a long time, we can’t waste a second more of it.”
Geralt swallowed, following dutifully after the druid.
As they made their way down the halls Geralt wished he wasn’t able to smell the descending stink of fear and worry that grew stronger with every guard and page and servant they passed.
It seemed news of the advancing army was spreading quickly through the castle, only serving to set Geralt more on edge as he tried not to imagine where Jaskier was, if he’d heard it yet as well.
[Read part 5: Secrets]
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*meme of Leonardo DiCaprio pointing at the TV screen* me when I'm on tumblr and see themes of lockdown/quarantine seeping into the fanfic I'm reading while we're all IRL on lockdown/quarantine
Good news! I finally figured out how many chapters are left in this fic! The answer is two, there are two chapters are left in this fic.
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Whale of a Time
A Mic/Aizawa + Nezu/Gang Orca fic for @bethhankel, rated G!
“This is going to be awkward.”
“What! No it’s not!”
Shouta raised an eyebrow at the mirror as he struggled to straighten his tie, knowing his husband would see the reflection. “In what way is this not awkward?”
Hizashi swooped in, straightening the offending garment and pressing a kiss to Shouta’s cheek before going back to fixing his own hair. “It’s just dinner with your dad! You’ve done that thousands of times!” 
“Yeah, with Dad. Not-” Shouta scowled, fighting the urge to pull his tie crooked again. If he was never ready, he never had to leave the bathroom. “You know.” 
“I know,” Hizashi sighed, satisfied enough with his hair to leave it for the moment. “But he and Gang Orca - wait, are we supposed to call him Sakamata now? I don’t know if I can do that! Anyway, they’ve been dating for a while. You can’t bury your head in the sand forever.”
“I’m not burying my head in the sand,” Shouta muttered, hunching his shoulders. He wished there were some convenient sand to hide in. “I just don’t want to think about my dad dating. Is that so weird?”
Hizashi moved behind Shouta, wrapping his arms around Shouta’s middle and resting his chin against the top of Shouta’s head. “Not weird,” he said. “But a little unsustainable, under the circumstances.”
Shouta pouted. “Be nice to me. I’m suffering.” 
“When you were head to toe in bandages you were ‘totally fine Hizashi, stop fussing’ but now you’re suffering?” Hizashi laughed, stepping away and tapping at Shouta’s lower lip with one of his long fingers. “Time to Plus Ultra, Pro Hero.”
He was right. Shouta sighed, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. “Bring it.”
Hizashi grinned, leading the way into the main room where Eri was teaching her babysitter about penguins. “This penguin lives in a zoo,” she explained, pointing at one of the pictures in her favorite book. “She’s adopted, like me. She has two dads.” 
“Amazing,” said Toshinori, eyes shining with emotion. “Remarkable!” 
Her job done, Eri closed the book to deal with more important matters. “Mr. All Might? Can we have ice cream?”
“Yes!” he boomed, shifting into his larger form and knocking over the coffee table. 
“After dinner,” Shouta corrected, righting the table with his foot and bending down to press a kiss to the top of Eri’s head. “Be good for Mr. All Might, all right?”
Eri nodded seriously, and Toshinori, small again, smiled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t worry about us! Just enjoy your night out with your father!” 
“Thanks,” Shouta said grimly, turning and walking towards the entryway. Hizashi lingered for a moment to speak to Toshinori. 
“Call us if you need anything! We’ll come straight back!” he promised, giving Eri a tight hug and a kiss on each cheek. “She’ll probably fall asleep pretty soon, but just in case!”
“Understood! But I’m sure we’ll be fine!” Toshinori swung Eri up on his shoulders, crouching slightly to avoid smacking her head against the ceiling. 
“Hizashi! Let’s get this over with!” Shouta called.
“Wish us luck!” Hizashi said, as he turned to go.
“Good luck!” Eri and Toshi said together, waving. 
“Thanks,” Hizashi sighed as he caught sight of Shouta’s grumpy face at the front door. “We’ll need it.”
It was a quiet ride to the restaurant. Hizashi tried once or twice to start a conversation, but Shouta’s mind seemed elsewhere, and Hizashi didn’t push. “Wow, your dad sure picked a fancy place,” he said, as the cab stopped to let them out in front. 
“The better to torture me with, I assume,” Shouta grumbled.
“That does sound like something I would do,” came a voice from behind them. Hizashi turned around slowly, his smile fixed in place. 
“Hey hey, good to see you outside of school, Sir!” 
“Hizashi, Shouta,” Nezu smiled. “Wonderful to see you, as always. You know Kugo, of course?” 
“Yeah, of course,” Hizashi said, more easily now. He grabbed Gang Orca’s - Sakamata’s - hand in both of his and shook it vigorously. “Nice to see you again!” 
Sakamata smiled tightly, fidgeting with his bright yellow tie. “Likewise. I wouldn’t have recognized you with your hair down, Yamada.”
Hizashi laughed. “Yeah, I get that a lot, right Shouta?” 
Shouta shrugged, and Hizashi jammed one of his bony elbows into his ribs. “Right. Uh… good to see you.”
“Yes… how are your students?” Sakamata said, as they followed Nezu inside. 
“They’re… fine.” A waiter led them to a quiet table, away from the crowd, probably because Sakamata was so recognizable, and set up a booster seat for Nezu, who scampered into it with dignity. 
“Shouta isn’t doing his students justice!” Nezu said, as he reached for his menu. ��There’s something special about class 1A this year!”
Hizashi grinned. “Yeah, you can tell because Shouta hasn’t expelled any of them!” 
Everyone laughed, except for Shouta, who scowled down at the table. No one said anything further as they looked over the menu, until the waiter came to drop off drinks and take their orders. 
“So Aizawa, rumor is that you expelled your entire class last year,” Sakamata said, after an extended pause. 
Hizashi choked on his water. “Oh, that’s not a rumor! Shouta’s the reason there is no class 2!”
Sakamata’s jaw dropped, but Shouta just shrugged. “If they’re going to get their hearts broken, better that it happen early, while they still have time to pursue more appropriate options.”
No one had any response, and without the menus to distract them, the lack of conversation was more awkward than before. “Shouta, say something,” Hizashi hissed, as quietly as possible. “Something less heavy than that!”
Shouta narrowed his eyes before taking a sip of his drink. “When Hizashi and I started dating, Dad made him run on a human-sized hamster wheel. He said the longer he went, the more committed he was to our relationship.”
“I ran until I passed out!” Hizashi said proudly.
Sakamata blinked. “That’s… sweet?”
“We still have the wheel,” Shouta said, pointedly.
“Ahaha,” Nezu laughed a little too loudly. “We’ve all learned so much since then! Haven’t we, Shouta?” 
Shouta looked across the table, impassive. “Have we?” 
“Oh look!” Hizashi clapped his hands in front of him. “The food!” 
Shouta slouched in his chair as their waiter passed out the dishes. “He’s not gonna fit on the wheel, Shou,” Hizashi muttered under his breath. 
“It’s not about that,” Shouta hissed through gritted teeth. “It’s the princi-” Before he could finish the thought, his phone began vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out, ready to silence it, Toshinori’s name on the caller ID. “I have to take this,” he said, sliding his chair back from the table and rushing out of the restaurant without a backwards glance. 
Silence fell, broken only by the light clink of dishes and glassware. “So,” Hizashi said, after a minute. “How’s the salmon?”
“It’s fine,” said Sakamata. “How’s the beef?”
“Really good!” Hizashi enthused. He tapped his fingers anxiously against the table, clearly searching for some way to keep the conversation going. “How did you two meet, anyway?”
“I tripped over him.” The words were bland, but a little smile finally appeared on Sakamata’s face. 
Hizashi’s jaw dropped. “What, really?”
Nezu chuckled. “It was my fault! I was looking at some files for the school and not where I was going. He was so embarrassed! He kept apologizing as he helped me pick up all my papers.”
“That’s so sweet!” Hizashi cooed, ever the romantic. 
“It really was.” Nezu smiled at Sakamata, leaning over as far as he could without tipping out of his chair in order to brush their hands together. 
“Eri had a nightmare,” Shouta interrupted as he reappeared behind Hizashi, causing everyone at the table to jump. “She’s asking for us. You too.” He looked at Nezu. 
“Of course,” Nezu hopped down from his chair and straightened his waistcoat. “Shall we, my dear?” 
Sakamata stood also, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. “Wait, let me,” Shouta said, going for his own cash, but Sakamata shook his head. 
“I’ve got it.” He dropped a handful of bills on the table, more than enough to cover the four half-eaten dinners. 
“There’s a fifteen minute wait for a cab,” Hizashi said, looking worriedly at his phone. “Do you think the subway would be faster?” 
“Let me drive you,” Sakamata offered, shrugging into his coat. “My car has plenty of room. Obviously.”
“That’s really not necessary-” Shouta started.
Nezu interrupted, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Thank you, Dear! That’s very kind of you. It’s important that we get to Eri as soon as possible. Right Shouta?”
“Right,” Shouta sighed, following his father out of the restaurant. When they got to the car, they decided that Hizashi would take the front seat, in order to give directions, and Nezu scrambled over Shouta into the back. “Where’s your car seat?” Shouta asked as they buckled in. 
“Shouta,” Nezu hissed. “Let’s discuss that later, please.”
Shouta scowled. “Dad, that’s not-”
“Not too much farther now!” Hizashi said, indicating their next turn. Sakamata nodded, weaving in and out of traffic deftly considering the size of the vehicle, and in just a few minutes they were in front of U.A. 
“I’ll drop you here and find someplace to park,” Sakamata said. “Just text me when you’re ready for me to pick you up.” 
“Nonsense!” Nezu said. “We won’t leave you waiting in the car like a chauffeur! Let’s all go in.” 
Hizashi nodded. “Please! Come inside, we have tea and coffee!”
“I appreciate the offer but… it’s not a good idea,” said Sakamata. “Children tend to find me intimidating at first. And then… scarier later. Your daughter is already having a rough night.” 
“Eri won’t be scared of you,” Shouta said, gruffly. “She’s seen enough of the world to know you can’t judge evil by its face.”
No one knew how to respond to that, but after a moment Sakamata clicked his seatbelt off. “I’ll duck out if there are any problems,” he said, as if he were mostly assuring himself.
They made their way through the dorms in silence, mercifully avoiding any students, and before long they were standing in front of Hizashi and Shouta’s door. As it opened, Toshinori was already apologizing for the trouble. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your evening. I know this night was important to you. But she just seemed so upset, and she was calling-”
“It’s fine,” Shouta said, as Eri ran towards them, arms already reaching out for someone to hold her. But when she saw Sakamata, she screeched to a stop, mouth falling open. 
“Whoa,” she whispered, eyes widening. 
Sakamata pressed back against the door, hunching in on himself in an attempt to look smaller. “Ah. Hello, Eri. I’m-”
“A PENGUIN!” Eri shrieked, pressing her hands to her cheeks and bouncing on the balls of her feet, all traces of fear gone from her face. “A real penguin!” 
“What.” Sakamata, Aizawa, and Toshinori said together. 
“Eri! This is our friend, Mr. Sakamata!” Hizashi smiled, sweeping Eri up into his arms, so she and Sakamata could look each other in the eye. “Say hello!”
Eri nodded. “Hi,” she murmured, not taking her eyes off him as she leaned in close to enough to Hizashi’s ear to whisper. “Daddy, it’s a penguin. I know from my book.”
“I am so sorry,” Shouta said, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red. 
“It’s absolutely fine.” Sakamata smiled widely at Eri, flashing a mouthful of large, sharp teeth. The room held its breath, waiting to see if Eri would panic, but she just grinned back. 
“So cool!” she marveled, leaning forward and reaching as far as she could, trying to touch Sakamata’s cheek. 
“Hey now,” Hizashi bounced her gently, trying to distract her. “Sorry, she’s usually very shy with strangers! I didn’t think she’d be so forward!”
Sakamata just kept smiling, lifting a hand so Eri could wrap her small fingers around one of his larger ones, steadying herself. “I really don’t mind. It’s nice to meet you, Eri. Your grandpa’s told me so much about you.” 
Like it was a magic word, Eri’s attention was diverted instantly. “Grandpa!” she yelled, looking around the room until she spotted him, then wriggling out of Hizashi’s grip so she could race across the room and give him a hug. “I had a bad dream,” she whispered like a confession, her arms wrapped tight around his neck. 
“I heard,” Nezu replied, hugging her gently. “Are you feeling better now?”
She nodded. “Mr. All Might made me hot chocolate. He’s really nice.” Toshinori coughed, hiding his face between his fist and the crook of his shoulder. Eri glanced back towards Sakamata. “Are all penguins so tall?”
“I think it’s time for us to get going!” Nezu announced, giving Eri’s cheek a last nuzzle before pulling away. “And for young ladies to go back to bed!”
Eri nodded, then, to everyone’s shock, wrapped herself around Sakamata’s leg. “Will you visit me again?”
“Of course,” Sakamata said immediately. “Ah… if it’s all right with your dads.”
“He’ll come back soon, Eri,” Hizashi promised, gently disentangling her and passing her over to Toshinori. “Mr. All Might’s going to put you back in bed now while we say goodbye to your grandpa, okay? Then Dad and I will come in to say goodnight.” 
Eri nodded, one fist clenched in Toshinori’s shirt, her eyes already half-closed as he carried her from the room. “She’s a sweet girl,” Sakamata said. “Thanks for letting me meet her.”
“Of course!” Hizashi smiled. “Come back any time!” 
Sakamata nodded, and moved to open the door when Shouta interrupted him. “Sakamata. I’m - glad to get to know you better. Please come over again soon.”
“We promise to explain to Eri that you’re not a penguin!” Hizashi said brightly, breaking the tension in the room and causing everyone to laugh. 
As they were leaving, Nezu stopped to rest a paw against Shouta’s knee. “I’m proud of you, Shouta.”
Shouta’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “Thanks Dad. I’m happy for you.”
Nezu’s eyes brightened, and he took a step back, clearing his throat and fussing with his waistcoat. “Thank you. That means quite a lot to me.” He and Sakamata left after that, Shouta and Hizashi still standing in the entryway.
“So,” Hizashi smirked, leaning against the doorway. “Still think it’s weird?”
“Yes,” Shouta grumbled, pulling off his tie at last, and shaking his hair free of its loose knot. “All families are weird. But. it’s worth it, I guess.”
Hizashi’s smile widened into a grin, and he reached out to stroke the rise of Shouta’s cheek. “Yeah. Guess so.”
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dakotacrisis · 4 years
Text
Transferred (13)
Happy Halloween to you all! I would like to say I was saving this update for Halloween but I really was just that lazy about writing it even though I knew exactly what I wanted to write.
Anyhoo! Considering where we left off last chapter I think we can all assume what happens here. Lila aids an actual terrorist because she is the literal worst.
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It’s over. It’s finally over.
Marinette breathed in the moment. Lila had finally been exposed. She couldn’t fool anyone anymore. Her old classmates knew the truth and Marinette’s name had been cleared.
It felt so good.
“Marinette?” Nanette scooted closer, “You’ve been really quiet for the past several minutes. Are you okay? Was it the video?”
“They know the truth. Everyone knows she’s a liar. I’m free.” Marinette’s laughter quickly spiraled into overwhelming sobs. Tears of joy. “I’m finally free.”
Nanette, Kagami and Quinn all reached over to envelope her in a hug. Marinette didn’t think that this would hit her so hard. She felt a tad ridiculous crying like this in the middle of the cafe. But goodness help her if she would have been able to stop.
Her phone buzzed on the table drawing her attention away. She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away. “You guys can let go now.” She told her friends, “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?” Kagami asked.
“Yeah. All that stress about Lila finally left my body and it shook me up more than I thought it would.” she glanced at her phone. She missed whoever was calling her.
Kagami’s phone started buzzing this time.
“It’s Adrien,” Kagami answered, “Hello--huh? Adrien, slow down, I can’t understand you.”
The others stopped talking and looked to Kagami. “Yeah, she’s here.” Kagami looked at Marinette, “We’re at the Winking Violet Cafe. What’s going on? What’s happened?”
“Adrien?” Marinette got closer to the phone, “What’s wrong?”
“Marinette! Lila got akumatized and she’s hunting down everyone that exposed her.” Adrien’s voice sounded panicked, “You need to go and hide.”
“Are you safe?” Hello again stress, missed you the whole ten seconds you were gone.
“I’m okay. Just find a good hiding spot and stay safe. Ladybug and Chat Noir will take care of Lila.”
“Yes they will.” Marinette clenched her fists, “You stay safe too.”
She looked at her friends. “Lila is akumatized so we need to get to a safe place.”
“Too late!” A voice outside the cafe snarled. The windows crashed and everyone ducked for cover from the flying glass shards.
An enormous fox with nine long tails stood in the middle of the cafe. It’s eyes trained solely on Marinette now sprawled on the ground.
“Marinette,” the fox growled, “You wanted to paint me as a monster so now that’s what I am and you are going to pay!”
“Lila, stop this!” Marinette yelled at her.
“I am not Lila! I am Kitsune! And you are dead meat!” Kitsune pounced at Marinette.
“Back off!” Kagami threw herself between Marinette and Kitsune. She was wielding a table chair like she was some kind of old lion tamer. “Marinette! Run!”
“Kagami--!”
“You think you can take me?” Kitsune laughed. “One pathetic little wannabe hero against a monster?”
“How about two?” Quinn jumped in as well.
“DIE YOU POKEMON WANNABE!” Nanette threw Marinette’s muffin at Kitsune. There is a literal glass vase that would do for a better distraction but instead she sacrificed the soft food item. Wasteful!
“But--” Marinette couldn’t just leave her friends but she also needed to get away to transform.
“GO!” The three of them yelled at her.
With a heavy heart she pushed off the floor and made a break for the exit. Kitsune tried to follow but Kagami, Nanette, and Quinn blocked her way. She needed to find a secluded spot and fast!
“Come back here!” Kitsune pounded down the street after Marinette.
“I gotcha!” Marinette was scooped up and vaulted into the air.
“Chat Noir?” Marinette looked at her partner, “How did you find me?”
“Uh...your friend Adrien told me.” Chat answered.
“Adrien? Is he okay?” Marinette asked, now even more worried.
“He’s safe. I promise.” He set Marinette down on top of a roof, “Stay here. Ladybug and I will take care of Kitsune.”
“Thanks, Chat Noir.” Marinette waited until he was out of sight before opening her purse, “He’s gonna need help. Tikki, transform me!”
As soon as she was powered up Marinette took off to take down Kitsune. She should have saw this coming. Of course Lila would get akumatized after she was exposed. Nothing to do now but take her down and purify the akuma before she hurt anyone else.
She found Kitsune prowling the streets and snapping at anyone not quick enough to get out of her way. “This isn’t ideal.” Marinette muttered. She couldn’t even see an akuma object on her anywhere.
“You can say that again.” Chat Noir sighed. Marinette hadn’t even heard him approach. “I barely managed to get to Marinette before our nine tailed friend down there tried to eat her.”
“I was having such a good day before this.” Marinette sighed, “Did you happen to see anything that could be holding the akuma earlier?”
“Nope.”
“Perfect.”
“Do we have a plan?”
“Go down there, protect civilians, keep Kitsune detained until we find the akuma, kick some butt.”
“Are you still sick? You’re usually a little more serious in these matters.”
“I got a lot of energy and I wanna do some butt kicking. Let’s do this!” Marinette jumped into the fray with Chat Noir behind her.
She lashed out her yo-yo wrapping around Kitsune’s throat and pulled her back from a group of civilians like a dog on a leash. “Get out of here!”
The civilians sped off just as Kitsune threw the yo-yo off. She turned to Marinette and Chat Noir baring her teeth and growling. “I was hoping to sink my teeth into a baker’s daughter but I’ll settle for hero instead.”
Kitsune lunged at them but they dodged out of the way. Chat Noir tripped her up and beat her down with his staff as best he could while Marinette leashed her and searched for the akuma. There really isn’t anything on her. She’d have to get closer. Maybe there was a necklace or something hidden in her fur.
“Chat Noir!” Marinette yelled, “Cover me!”
“On it!” Chat Noir jumped on Kitsune’s back, extending his staff so it stuck between her jaws like a crude bit.
She slid under Kitsune’s belly and groped around her neck. There has to be something!
Kitsune started to buck and thrash wildly. Marinette delved her hand deeper into her fur. It was like putting a hand in a wolf’s fur, it just kept going.
“AAAHHH!” Chat Noir was sent flying as Kitsune managed to knock him off her back.
“Darn it!” Marinette tried to roll out of the way but Kitsune was faster and swiped a massive paw at her head.
She pulled herself onto the nearest roof with her yo-yo and held the side of her head. It didn’t feel like she was hurt but one of her ribbons was gone. She pulled out the other ribbon and tied her hair back in a single ponytail for the time being.
“I’m back!” Chat Noir huffed as he made it back to the action. “You’d think I’d be used to getting thrown around like that but it never gets any easier.”
“Hope you’ve recovered because we still need to figure out where the akuma is hiding.” Marinette stared down at Kitsune who paced the street growling at them and carrying on about heroes ruining everything.
“Wait, I got it!” Chat Noir exclaimed, “I know where the akuma must be!”
“Where?”
“You see the tails?” Chat Noir pointed to the nine long tails Kitsune had. Each was tied off with what looked like a ribbon of sorts. “Those ties on them are the only other thing on her. The akuma must be hiding in one of those.”
“You’re right!” How had she not seen that before. “How’d you figure that out?”
“Well I was gonna make a comment about how cute the single ponytail looked on you when I had the realization. Doesn’t Lila usually wear her hair with little hair ties near the ends? Much like the ties on the end of Kitsune’s tails?”
“Chat, you’re brilliant!” Marinette praised her partner, “Since we know where the akuma is I think it’s time for this. Lucky Charm!”
She thrust her yo-yo into the air and out of the bright light dropped a plastic container. She opened it up and took a whiff. “Hoo!” she pinched her nose, “That is some seriously strong red pepper flakes.”
“What are we gonna do with that?” Chat asked.
Marinette looked around for something to help her. That hose, Chat Noir, his staff, her yo-yo, and the very potent red pepper flakes.
“I got it!” she explained her plan to Chat Noir. “Do you understand? She handed him the container.”
“You can count on me, my lady!” he jumped back onto the street drawing Kitsune’s attention.
While he was keeping her distracted Marinette grabbed the discarded hose laying on the street. “Now!” she shouted.
Chat Noir started spinning his staff until it created a powerful tunnel of wind and uncorked the container of pepper flakes so they flew directly into Kitsune’s face.
“Achoo!” Kitsune sneezed, “What do you think--achoo! A little pepper can’t--achoo! Achoo!”
Kitsune kept sneezing giving Marinette the opening she needed. She lashed out her yo-yo entangling her feet and knocking her to the ground. Next she bound the tails together with the house and pulled the ribbons off of all of them. She ripped each ribbon in half until a dark butterfly flew out of one.
“No more evil doing for you, little akuma.” she captured it in her yo-yo before releasing it purified back into the world, “Bye bye little butterfly!”
Chat Noir tossed her the pepper container. “Miraculous Ladybug!” the ladybugs went about correcting all the damage Kitsune had done. Including replacing Marinette’s single ponytail with her pigtails again.
“Pound it.” The duo bumped fists in victory.
“Huh?” Lila was back to normal and gazed around at the street. “But, I was--” she saw Ladybug and Chat Noir a few feet from her and frowned. “If it isn’t Crap Noir and Ladybarf.”
“Hey! I know you don’t like me but there is no reason to pick on my partner.” Marinette snapped at her. “We just saved you from destroying the city, again.”
“Whatever. This is the worst day ever!” Lila stomped her foot, “First with that pampered brat’s presentation and now this! I’m going home!”
Chat Noir didn’t let anything show as Lila stormed off. Usually he’d at least try to be the assuring one in these instances but he seemed to be basking in her bad mood as much as Marinette was.
“Do you think she’s okay to leave alone?” Marinette asked Chat Noir. “She seems really mad. What if she gets akumatized again?”
“I don’t think it’s that bad. She’ll sulk and fester in her anger for a while but I don’t think it’ll be so powerful as to get her akumatized twice in the same day.” Chat Noir shrugged.
“I hope you’re right.” Her earrings beeped. “I’m almost out of time. See you later, Chat Noir.”
“Have a wonderful rest of your day, my lady.” Chat Noir bowed before taking off in the other direction.
Marinette found an alley a couple streets down from the cafe to transform back in. Tikki nestled herself snugly in Marinette’s purse to munch on her cookie as they walked back to the cafe.
When she walked in everyone was in a buzz about the latest akuma attack. Kagami, Quinn, and Nanette were crowded in the corner looking at their phones frantically. Quinn noticed Marinette enter first and ran up to her.
“You’re okay!” Nanette and Kagami followed suit to crush Marinette in their arms.
“Of course I am.” Marinette assured them, “Is everyone here okay?”
“No!” Quinn smacked her arm, “You scared us half to death! The last we saw you a giant fox was chasing you down the street. We’ve been worried sick! You didn’t answer any of our calls, we thought something bad may have happened to you.”
“Sorry,” Marinette checker her phone. Sure enough there were a bunch of missed calls listed on her phone. Quinn, Nanette, Kagami, Alya, Aurore, and even one from Wayhem.
“She’s here now and she’s in one peice.” Kagami said, “That’s all that matters.”
“Well,” Nanette set her hands on her hips, “To celebrate not being mauled by a giant fox creature and the downfall of a horrible lying she-demon I say we take this party back up to my room for an impromptu dance party. Who’s with me?”
“Sounds ridiculous,” Kagami shook her head, “I’m in.”
“Yes!” Nanette grabbed her arm, “I knew I’d wear you down to the dumb fun level as the rest of us!”
The four of them adjourned to the apartment above the shop and filed into Nanette’s room. While the other three partied it up Marinette took a minute to call back her other friends to assure them she was okay. They wanted to talk more about Lila’s well deserved downfall but Marinette didn’t have the energy for it right now. They’d all meet up tomorrow to talk about it.
After her calls were finished she joined her friends back in the small bedroom where Quinn was trying to get Kagami to floss. Oh what sweet, weird, friends she had. Wasn’t flossing outdated yet? Who in the past couple months was flossing?
“I nabbed this from the cafe,” Nanette handed Marinette a muffin. “Since I sorta lobbed yours at an akuma earlier.”
“Thanks,” Marinette took her muffin and nibbled it as her friends laughed and danced around the room. Today was a great day.
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(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (14)
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(tagged)
@northernbluetongue @heredemaquam @zazzlejazzle @lady-flora-of-slytherin @ladylb @immatureidiot101 @kristycocopops @schrodingers25 @sublimemagazinestarlight @shamefullove 
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Text
Inspired by the outsider POV fic prompts by @mewbotz. On this occasion I have written a fic based on this one: -people at a market that the immortals frequent who gossip about the strange group of travellers and have betting pools on who’s together. people fight over their favorite ships. the blacksmith thinks andy and nicky are together. the baker is set on andy and quynh. homophobia does not exist.
It’s not exactly as the prompt says...but close enough :D I hope you enjoy.
Iliana glanced across the room, ducking her head upon noticing that the Greek man was looking around.
 “I tell you, they came into the jewellery shop together,” she whispered to her companions. “He complimented her on every piece she tried. When I asked about the bracelet on her arm, she told me that it was a gift from her beloved.”
 “Why do you assume that he is her beloved? Because they bought jewellery together?” Markos asked, irritably tossing a few coins into the centre of the table. “I saw her with the other girl in the weapon smith’s shop. Tell me why two women would be looking for axes and spears if they had men to do it for them.”
 Iliana scoffed and rolled her eyes. “It is not so far-fetched. Between the two of us, I am the better at wielding a knife. Why shouldn’t the same be true of them?”
 Markos glared at her from beneath his thick eyebrows as Katina put a hand over her mouth, concealing a smile.
 “I must say,” Giannis piped up. “When they booked into the guest house, the two Greeks did take a room together. I thought the other woman was their maid.”
 Markos blew air between his lips. “She must be a highly trusted maid, very close to her mistress, from what I saw. I doubt she is the sort who cleans and sews.”
 “That has been established, Markos,” Iliana remarked, sarcasm dripping from her tongue. “They are all evidently warriors. The matter at hand is the exact nature of their relationships to each other.”
 “And you think the two Greeks are a couple? How original, Iliana. Do you suppose the other two make a second pair?” “I’ve never seen them together so I’m not sure” she retorted with dignity.
 “I actually think the Greek man and the…” Katina paused and looked over her shoulder, her head turning back swiftly and her cheeks pinking. “And the dark-haired woman may be a couple. They were in the wood-carver’s shop together and seemed to enjoy one another’s company greatly. They were like a pair of children exploring the wooden horses and the board games.”
 “That speaks to friendship” Markos muttered.
 “You’re only saying that because you don’t want to lose” Antonios accused. Markos gasped aloud at his insolence.
 “My sister and I would play with toys. I would not embrace anyone but my wife” he declared, a little loudly considering the need to be clandestine.
 “Did you see them embrace?” Antonios asked, leaning forward with interest. This was new information and he was glad that he had held off on placing his money into the pool.
 “I did” Markos said proudly.
 “What was the nature of it?” Christos asked, speaking up for the first time.
 “Well,” Markos screwed his face up as he sought to recall. “They were looking at the axes. The Greek one was testing the weight of them and her companion said something…I don’t know, I was far away and I think she spoke in another language. Anyway the Greek one laughed and put an arm around her shoulders. I think she kissed her.” “Really?” Christos asked, alarmed. His money had been placed elsewhere.
 “Where? Cheek, head, lips?” Antonios demanded.
 Markos typically liked to be the centre of attention, and even more so to be right, but he was uncomfortable with this interrogation.
 “They were turned away from me,” he protested. “It was on the face somewhere.”
 “It could be sisterhood” Christos said. Markos fixed his dark eyes on him.
 “That is nonsense. Why would you say such a thing?”
 “Because,” Christos declared triumphantly. “I saw her embrace the other man, the one with curly hair.”
 He smiled at the thrill that went around the table. The only news of the second man had come from Giannis, who saw him tending the horses in the stable by the guest house, and Antonios who sold him leather coats and shoes. He was alone on both occasions and so no-one else had yet factored him into their bets.
 “Do you think…?” Katina began, her voice trailing off.
 “I knew it,” Giannis interrupted. “Even when the Greek was speaking, I could tell she was the power behind the throne. He kept looking for her approval.”
 “You think she has…All of them in her bed?” Markos spluttered.
 “It would explain why they took the younger girl to the room with them. The man was taking care of the horses, but he could have joined them later” Giannis replied confidently.
 Iliana allowed her eyes to wander across the room, running her gaze across the table of visitors. The older man had the dark skin of an outdoorsman, the kind she had always been attracted to, and a head of dark curls that she would love to run her fingers through. The younger one had the most impeccable manners she’d ever encountered in a man, endlessly generous to his companion and polite to her. The girl had a wicked smile and an air of mischief that Iliana was endeared to. And the tall, elegant woman held the attention of them all. What a woman, she thought, travelling the world with three lovers. It was the stuff of dreams.
 “Don’t look so admiring” Markos remarked. She turned away from the scene and smiled at him. Her life might be boring in comparison to the mysterious strangers, but at least it was steady and comfortable. It was a good exchange.
 “Does this mean you win the bet, dear?” she asked.
 “There’s no proof,” Christos stepped in quickly. “It’s just a theory. Why would the Greeks pretend to be a couple when they arrived if they’re all together?”
 “Travelling so much, I’m sure they must have encountered areas less welcoming to their lifestyle,” Iliana said. “I too would be cautious when entering a new place.”
 Christos grumbled and took a swig from his mug, his frown growing at the discovery that it was empty.
 “Giannis, be a good host” he requested, pushing it towards him. Giannis dutifully gathered the mugs and brought them to the bar, setting about the task of refilling them.
 “We should ask Eva,” Iliana suggested. “The men were working with her today. She might have more information."
 “I hope so, because with how much they bought today, I think they’re preparing to leave,” Antonios warned. “This is the last night that the bet can be won.”
 Markos tapped his fingers on the table and then turned. “The nature of this embrace you saw, Christos, what was it?”
 “He picked her up off the ground and spun her around.”
 “That is not an embrace. That is a game I play with my children. None of you have seen anything more compelling than I have, and since this is the last night of our bet…”
 Markos grinned and started to pull the money towards him.
 “The men are kissing” Giannis reported, coming back with two mugs in each hand.
 The group of six looked, careless of subtlety, and saw that Giannis had spoken true. The curly-haired man had moved around the table to sit beside the Greek, kissing him on the mouth. The two women were standing to leave, talking in their strange language and laughing as they said goodbye. The Greek woman slipped an arm around her companion’s shoulders as they walked past the table and disappeared upstairs.
 “Does that count?” Markos asked hopefully.
 “Oh, that is not proof,” Christos said, clearly enjoying having the sandal on the other foot. “Did anyone bet on the men?”
 A guilty silence followed and Markos groaned, burying his face in his hands.
 “I’ll take this to cover the drinks” Giannis said mischievously, pulling the pile of coins towards him.
 Iliana reached over and petted her husband’s arm. “Never mind, dear, you were closer than I was” she said comfortingly.
 They finished their drinks and the married couples bid their friends goodnight. Giannis rested his head against Antonios’ shoulder as he waited for his last guests to go to bed and let him do the same, his partner idly playing with his fingers.
 Markos kindly held the door open for Katina and Christos, and Iliana followed them, joining them on the street for farewell embraces and turning to find that her husband hadn’t quite made it out after them. She was about to inquire about his whereabouts when he appeared, face flushed with pleasure as he embraced their friends.
 “They told me that my bet was correct” he said as he and his wife took their leave.
 “Who did?”
 “The two men. They must have heard us. They said I was right and the women are a couple.”
 He sounded so happy and Iliana smiled. Her husband always liked to be the most intelligent man in the room.
 “I’m glad for you, my love,” she said, looping her arm through his. “But I’m afraid that glory will be your only prize on this occasion.”
 **
 “You told them?” Andromache asked incredulously, laughing as she passed the wine to Quynh.
 “What harm does it do?” Yusuf asked. “We’re leaving tomorrow. And he was so invested in it. I don’t want him to lose his house over it.” “If he loses his house over a bet, he had it coming” Andromache replied, with her usual brand of tough love.
 “Did you hear them? They took it so seriously,” Quynh said, pressing a hand to her chest. “My heart! It was adorable.”
 “They’re good people,” Nicolo said sincerely. “They have been so kind to us, even if they do treat us like horses.”
 That raised a laugh from his companions.
 “Speaking of horses,” Andromache said, levering herself up from the semi-horizontal position she found herself in and fixing the boys with a slightly bleary warning look. “We have to set off early tomorrow so do not stay up late.”
 “We won’t if you won’t” Yusuf said cheerfully.
 “We haven’t been missing anything” Nicolo added, sticking the knife in further.
 Andromache sighed and looked between the three people she loved most in the world. “You were all sent to torture me,” she declared. “Quynh, come on. Time to go.”
 Her partner lifted herself off the floor in one elegant move that made Andromache’s stomach flip a little. Despite her steadily growing desire to get to bed and not sleep, Quynh saw fit to prolong the torture by kissing the boys’ heads and wishing them a good night before following Andromache. She practically pulled her beloved across the hall by her arm.
 Quynh was laughing when the door of their room finally closed behind them.
 “You are a terror” Andromache accused, pushing her against the wood and caging Quynh between her arms.
 “I know” she said unapologetically.
 “I cannot believe you forbid me to touch you for an entire week just to stop some peasants from winning a bet.”
 “You went along with it, dear,” Quynh pointed out. “Besides, I’m all yours now.”
 Andromache growled without meaning to, the last of her already thin restraint snapping.
 “You’re damn right” she said, pulling Quynh over to the bed as her lover’s giggles filled the air.
 Despite her stern warnings of the previous night, it was the girls who were subjected to the embarrassing knocks on the door and the calls of “Wake up, we have to go” come morning.
  Andromache thought it was worth the price.
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cas-kingdom · 5 years
Text
Just a Little Longer
A/N: Another Peaky Blinders fic with the reader as the youngest Shelby! This one, like the other, is probably set around season 4! Please enjoy! 
(There are quite a few curse words, but what do you expect from a Peaky Blinders fic?) XD
Find the OC version of this fic here.
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Title: Just a Little Longer
Summary: A man comes to the house asking for your hand in marriage. Tommy’s not pleased.
Words: 3225
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“Arthur’s called for a family meeting.” Thomas Shelby looked up from where he was seated next to you at a desk, the two of you bent over some papers, as Finn walked into the room. Immediately, he set about discreetly analysing his brother’s face, searching for any obvious sign that what Arthur wanted to discuss at this meeting was serious. The boy looked a little flustered, but apart from that he seemed fine.
“Right.” Tommy stood to his feet and you moved to follow him until Finn shook his head and gave his brother a knowing look.
“Minus the baby,” he said quietly, and Tommy rose both brows, glancing over at you just in time to catch you rolling your eyes. There weren’t many family meetings the boys had that they deemed unsuitable for you to hear - they’d been involving you in a lot more business-related work recently - and so knowing this was one of those moments set a curious glint in his eye.
“You know, I’m only one year younger than you, Finn. I’m not a baby,” you said. Nevertheless, you huffed and reluctantly plopped yourself back down onto your seat. Both your brothers smiled at your plight, clearly believing that your crossed arms, pouted lips and slumped form did nothing to aid in moving your insistent statement along the right path.
“Stay here,” Tommy told you as he moved around the desk, “and see if you can work out any more of those numbers. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He fell into step with his younger brother, the two of them pacing down the hallway towards the family room. “What’re you teaching her?” Finn asked a moment later, referring to the numbers he’d heard him tell you about.
Tommy adjusted his cap. “Nothing much, just simple adding up wages and such. I want her to get more involved in what we’re doing – I’d hate for us to have another Ada on our hands where she goes off with some man and leaves the business entirely to us.” He sighed deeply. “Anyway, what’s this Arthur wants to talk about?”
“Oh, Arthur’s already talked about it. He just wants your opinion on the matter, s’all,” Finn said, an odd mix of both amusement and anger in his voice. Tommy glanced down and his sharp eyes caught sight of his brother’s clenched fists. He stopped in his tracks.
“What do you mean Arthur’s already talked about it? I thought this was a family meeting; discussions don’t start until everyone’s there.” He stared at the younger Shelby, frustration getting clearer in his voice. The two of them were standing a few feet away from the door to the family room, and though there were no clear voices emanating from behind the door, the atmosphere surrounding it seemed to be seriously intense. Finn sighed and looked at the door for a moment before turning back around and stepping a little closer to his brother.
“Look, Tommy,” he said quietly, “I’m gonna tell you this now because I know how you are with these kinda things and I think you need to be somewhat prepared.”
Tommy rose an eyebrow in expectation, mind whirring with thousands of possibilities. “Spit it out, then.”
Finn swallowed. Hard. “A man knocked on the door a few minutes ago. We thought it was for business, but when he came in, he said he was here for something else.”
“What do you mean? Get to the fucking point, Finn.”
Finn honestly wished Arthur had sent someone else to get their brother, but, as always, he seemed to be the message boy of the family. The look currently on his older brother’s face was definitely not something to be trifled with, and he hated being on the receiving end of it, so quickly set about explaining. “He wants to marry Y/N. He came to our door asking to marry our sister, Tommy, and, as expected, Arthur lost his temper. Surprised the man’s not run off, yet.”
Tommy blinked, completely perplexed. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or throw himself into some pit of rage, and so he simply settled with nothing at all. Placing a hand on Finn’s shoulder, he turned, straightened his jacket and walked through the door.
The first thing he looked for was the new face in the room. His blue eyes found it almost immediately. It belonged to a fairly tall chap, probably only a few inches shorter than himself, with dirty blonde hair and light brown eyes. He had one of those faces you couldn’t decipher – was he sad? Was he happy? Angry, excited, terrified? – but at this current moment, all he wanted to do with that face was punch it.
Arthur and John stood off a little to the side, the younger of the two’s hand gripping the older’s shoulder tightly, as if keeping him in place. Arthur was breathing heavily, face bolting around to face him as soon as he walked in. “Tommy,” he said, brushing his brother’s hand off his shoulder before moving forward, “this fucking man-”
“I know, Arthur, I know,” Tommy said, voice cooler than even he expected. Calmly, he pulled out a chair and sat down, whipping out a cigarette, lighting it, and swiftly pulling it up to his lips.
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The man belonging to this new face stepped forward with an air of forced dignity and honour about him. “Mister Shelby, I-”
“Don’t speak.”
He shut his mouth, blinking rapidly and ducking his head as if in embarrassment before slowly stepping back and unconsciously biting his lip. Tommy smirked faintly, taking a puff of his cigarette and looking over at his brothers. “Where’s Polly?”
“Says we can handle this ourselves,” John said.
Tommy nodded. That was fair enough; their aunt was protective of you, of course, but nobody could compare her protectiveness to her nephews’. Theirs was fierce and completely, totally built on deep love for you. Doubtless, she did not agree with what this man had come to ask of them, but she didn’t need to be there to add her input. She knew what the outcome would be.
“What’s your name?” A small smile accompanied his query as he looked up at the man in question and moved to lean his chin on his fist.
“Jackson, Sir,” he replied. “Jackson Rodgers.”
Tommy nodded. “Funny,” he said, “I’ve never heard my sister mention that name before.”
“That’s because she probably doesn’t even know the fucker,” Arthur spoke up from the side, though he remained where he was. Tommy knew his words were correct, though. Truthfully, he himself couldn’t remember ever seeing the damn man even once, and he’d made it a point to subtly visit every one of your friends to ensure they were what he considered safe to spend time with. If you hadn’t told him about Jackson, there’d undoubtedly be more people you hadn’t mentioned to him, and that would lead to endless trouble from him on your side. But he knew you knew that, and he also knew you didn’t want that. So, really, there was only one other option.
“Is that right?” He waited for the wisp of smoke to waft out of his mouth before he lifted his head a little more to gaze up at the man in front of him. “Do you know my sister?”
He seemed to stumble for a brief moment before settling on an answer. “Yes.”
Arthur scoffed and Tommy nodded. “Right. How?”
This garnered an even longer hesitation. “I’ve seen her around town.”
Both Finn and John stared at each other for a moment before bursting into a fit of relentless laughter, doubling over and slapping their thighs. Jackson stood silent, yet Tommy could see his face growing red – not with embarrassment, but anger. His sharp brown eyes had dimmed slightly, and his fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were almost white. Temper. This man had a temper, and if something as simple as two men laughing at his expense brought out that temper, he doubted he’d ever get himself a woman that escaped the occasional abuse. Despite this, Tommy couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his lips before he reached his cigarette up yet again to puff. “That so?” He put a hand out to his brothers, signalling for them to quieten down. “You seen her around town, yeah?”
Jackson’s face hardened and he glared at Finn and John for a brief moment longer before turning it on Tommy. “Yes.”
“You can hardly count that as knowing someone, Mister Rodgers.” He wasn’t even looking at the man, and yet he could tell that he probably looked like a raging bull at this moment. Sure enough, when he lifted his head just enough to lay eyes on him, red was practically all he saw.
“Mister Shelby,” Jackson said, clearly still attempting to cover his angered tone with a calmer one, “I am a respectable man-”
“Respectable!” Tommy laughed. He snuffed his cigarette and threw it across the table before crossing one leg over the other, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine,” Jackson ground out.
Tommy nodded. He’d thought as much. Looking over his shoulder, he pointed at his brothers. “You see Johnny boy over there?” John stepped forward, intense glare on Jackson never wavering. “He’s two years older than you. That’s it. You’re practically the same age, and yet you want to marry his little sister.”
Jackson fidgeted slightly, though Tommy could see it wasn’t out of awkwardness. His lip kept twitching, and his balled fists looked as though they were ready to hit someone at any time.
“Do you even know how old she is?” Arthur spoke up from the side, voice slightly calmer yet still extremely unforgiving. The man in question glanced over at him before turning his gaze back on the head of the family.
“Answer the question, Mister Rodgers,” Tommy said with a faint nod.
Jackson had the decency to look frightened for just a second before he schooled his features and lifted his chin defiantly. “No. But I do know that she’s a young lady that needs to be married-”
“Needs to be married?” Tommy’s voice had risen a notch. There was a deep frown on his face as he reached up to remove his hat, placing it on the table before standing to his feet and moving closer to the man stood in front of him. “Needs to be married, you say? My sister is seventeen, and only just turned. She’s not even of age yet, so don’t you dare tell me what she needs. I haven’t thought about her marriage once. She’s a fucking child.”
Jackson soon came to find himself face to face with none other than Thomas Shelby, his nose mere inches from his own. Now he was closer, he could clearly see the anger swimming in those blue - like hard, cold ice - eyes, and the way his jaw was firmly tended. No doubt he was trying desperately to maintain his composure and control the emotions that were so obviously struggling to take over.
“Children get married to older men all the time, Mister Shelby.”
“Not in this house and not to men like you.”
Jackson stiffened. “As I said, I am respectable-”
“There’s nothing respectable about coming into someone’s house and asking to marry their seventeen-year-old sister, a girl you’ve never even met before!” Tommy hissed. “Do you seriously believe she’d want to marry you?”
“She doesn’t have to want it,” Jackson said, moving his face closer to Tommy’s. His voice was challenging, steady, and yet nothing but poison. “You’re her brother. Make her!”
The man couldn’t contain a gasp as he was slapped hard on the face. The sting and burn that accompanied the leader of the Peaky Blinders’ hand connecting with his cheek only grew worse, even after Tommy had withdrew, and he hastily reached up to grasp at his aching skin. He turned accusing eyes on the offender not a second later, yet made no move to speak. All signs of confidence had drained from his face, leaving nothing but fear and shock. He expected to hear the faint sound of John and Finn laughing yet again, but nothing reached his ears. The room was silent, the only sound being the hazy voices of men working outside the room. He turned his attention back on Tommy as the man made to speak. “I would never make her marry a fucker like you,” he ground out. “In fact, I would never make her do anything. I’m her brother, you piece of shit, not her slave master. All you want from her is the money she has and the body she owns. I doubt you even know her fucking name.”
Jackson had the good sense not to answer. Each word the older man uttered seemed as though it was dripping with venom, and it was all aimed at him. If he’d ever doubted the notorious Peaky Blinders before, he didn’t now.
Hesitantly, he looked over at Arthur, John and Finn, all leaning against the wall, smug looks gracing their faces. “You lot are mad,” he said quietly, though it was loud enough for them all to hear. “Why you wouldn’t want someone like me as your brother-in-law I have no-” He stepped back as another slap was aimed at his still-burning skin, and this time, the distinct sound of laughter coming from the three men by the wall reached his ears. He clung to his cheek yet again and glared at Tommy, who stood rooted to the spot, feet apart, arms crossed over his muscled chest, and an all but emotionless expression on his face.
“Do you want to say anything else, Mister Rodgers?” he asked, calm and smooth. Jackson breathed in deep and had the decency to look slightly shameful.
“No, Mister Shelby. I don’t.”
Tommy nodded, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. He stepped forward. “I can’t believe you had the nerve to come here and ask that of me. You’re a brave one, I’ll admit, but if you actually walked through that door with the intention of marrying my sister than your skull is thicker than it looks. When she marries, and it won’t be for a few years yet, it’ll be for love or for business. I’m not handing her over to the first man that walks through my house.”
Jackson scoffed and opened his mouth to speak again, but Tommy held up his hand and tilted his head slightly to the side. “You’ve had your say, Mister Rodgers, don’t speak another word. You came here with a question, and my answer is no. Now, get the fuck out before I hit you again.”
“Run back to your mother, boy,” Arthur said, and Jackson had just enough time to give him the middle finger before turning and hurrying out the door.
“Yeah, and don’t come back, you rat!” John shouted. “Else Tommy’ll beat you up and leave you to rot on the front step!”
Tommy rolled his eyes at his brother’s words but nevertheless smiled slightly, shaking his head. The door shut loudly, almost shaking the building, and he sighed before reaching down for his hat. “He won’t be coming back.”
“He better not,” Arthur said, smoothing back his hair. Tommy looked at him for a moment before walking towards him. He knew his brother, and he knew Jackson had probably received a mouthful from him before he himself had had his go; Arthur’s temper was not something to be messed with and certainly not something easily reined in.
“You alright?” he asked.
Arthur nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. The nerve of that boy, though, Tommy…”
Tommy placed his cap on his head and reached out to squeeze his brother’s shoulders. He ducked his head to catch his eyes. “No one’s going to be marrying Y/N anytime soon, Arthur, least of all someone like that. She’s the last Shelby; we’ll wait for her, this time. She’ll make her own choices when she’s older. But, for now, we look out for her, as we’ve always done, and we keep those fuckers off her tail, alright? No one’ll get near her if we have anything to say about it, which we will. The next time someone comes in here asking for her hand in marriage, we’ll say nothing, and I give you permission to punch him in the face before we kick him out onto the streets.” He smiled at Arthur, who returned it immediately, before pulling him into a quick hug. “No one’s taking our girl away from us just yet, brother.”
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You grumbled something incoherent as your mind puzzled over the numbers on the paper Tommy had told you to continue with. They were all over the place, really, and all you wanted to do was scrunch it into a small ball and throw it into the fire. Of course, you wanted to earn your firm place in the family business, but you knew it wouldn’t be for a little while yet, and even so, numbers were not your thing.
Footsteps coming towards you broke you from your slight reverie and you lifted your head, sighing in relief at the sight of Tommy. “Thank God,” you mumbled before giving him a smile. “Is everything okay?”
Your brother nodded, reaching for his pack of cigarettes still laying next to you and moving behind you while lighting one. He glanced over your shoulder. “Yeah. Just dealing with some idiot.”
“Oh.”
“Nothing for you to worry about. How’re you doing with those numbers?” He sat next to you and listened intently as you showed him all you’d done so far and what was left to do. All the while, he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on your guileless, youthful face, and his attention strayed entirely to the way you were rapidly talking childish nonsense and getting increasingly frustrated simply at the prospect of dividing.
He shook his head the slightest bit, wondering to himself how anyone could take one look at you and think it alright to have you as their wife. You were a child, the baby of the family, and he wasn’t just saying that. Giving you a husband would take away your freedom and your innocence, something he adored in you, but, more importantly, giving you a husband would take you away from him and your brothers. No matter what anyone said about the Shelby family, the one thing that would always remain true was the fact that you came before anything else, even the business. He’d be damned if he handed you over to a man – any man – and only saw you a few times a month, or even possibly a year. You kept the family together; you were the light, the hope, and the future of the business, and without you he’d probably spend most of his days at the pub, drinking away his problems instead of sitting with you, listening to you simply speak and feeling those worries and fears drift away into nothing. You kept him sane. You kept him whole.
And he needed to hang onto you just a little longer before he let you go.
Just a little longer.
Peaky Masterpost
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get-your-fics · 5 years
Text
Duality - Chapter One
Summary: Your life as Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend was pretty simple, actually. Well, as simple as things can get in Gotham. But it gets a lot more complicated when you meet Jeremiah Valeska, Jerome’s twin brother.
Pairings: Bruce Wayne x reader, Jeremiah Valeska x reader, Jerome Valeska x reader
Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, kidnapping, stalking, mentions of abuse
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You covered your boyfriend’s eyes with your hands. “Guess who?”
You couldn’t see the smile on his face, but you could hear it in Bruce’s voice. “Hmm, let me think. (Y/N)?”
You removed your hands and sat down on the stool next to him. “Guilty as charged.” A wide grin spread over your features. “You know, for having as much training as you do, you’re rather easy to sneak up on.”
He let out a slight chuckle. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
You quirked a brow. “I don’t know. Am I?”
His lips twitched upwards in the faintest hint of a smile. “What day is it today?”
You pursed your lips playfully. “Could it be...” the corners of your lips lifted into a teasing smile, “your birthday?”
“Wow, first guess.” He grabbed a cake stand that was on the island and slid it towards you. You got up on your knees on the stool and leaned on the island with your hands to look closer at it. It was a vanilla bundt cake drizzled with frosting.
“Aw, Bruce! My favorite!” Suspicion started to slip in, and you snapped your head to look at him. “Wait, you didn’t get this cake just for me, did you?” Despite the stoic expression on his face, you could read the guilty look in his eyes. “Bruce, it’s your birthday. Not mine.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t really care much about my birthday anyway. You know that.”
You sighed. It was true. You did know that. He hadn’t cared much about his birthday in recent years, but he used to... once. Before his parents’ death. You could remember a time when he would invite all his friends over to Wayne Manor, and there would be a full spread of food laid out on the dining table. He would blow out birthday candles and open presents. They would stuff their faces full of cake, frosting smeared all over their cheeks, and race around the grounds, leaving Alfred to chase after them.
But that was a long time ago. Things had changed. Well, not everything, you thought. You were still here. You had been best friends with Bruce since elementary school, so it was only natural that you two would start dating. After his parents died, he stopped going to school and talking to his old friends, but, being the stubborn person that you were, you refused to give up on him. You supported him and helped him get through that tough time, and your relationship blossomed as a result. It wasn’t easy, being his girlfriend. At times it felt like all of Gotham was out to get him. But moments like this, where it was just you two in his kitchen, smiling and chatting and laughing, made it all worth it.
“Well, happy birthday.” You slid into his lap and draped your arms over his shoulders. “I’m sure we can find some way to celebrate.”
He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him. He stared up at you with a smirk on his face. “I hope that’s a promise.”
You leaned down and connected your lips in a soft kiss. Your hand ran up his neck to cup his cheek. He traced your bottom lip with his tongue, asking for entrance, and you parted your lips. Just as his tongue entered your mouth, you heard footsteps approaching from down the hall.
“Master Bruce.” You hopped out of Bruce’s lap just as Alfred walked in. You kept your head down and swiped at your mouth with the back of your hand, too afraid to look at Alfred’s face to see if he had seen or not. If he had, his voice didn’t tell it. “We have visitors.”
You did look up, however, when Jim Gordon and Lucius Fox stormed in with a sense of urgency. Oh, great. You leaned against the island, your shoulders slumping a bit. Of course, on Bruce’s birthday.
“Bruce, we need your help.” Jim marched right over to the tv.
Bruce stood up and followed him. “What happened?”
Jim turned on the tv to a random news channel, and when you saw the face that came on the screen, you gasped. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room as you stared at Jerome on the tv. He had a scar running around the periphery of his face and dark circles under his eyes. His red lips were stretched into an unnatural smile, and it sent shivers down your spine at seeing his image again after who knew how long.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a guy waiting?” Jerome rested his chin on his closed fist. “Bring me my hostages, James. My trigger finger is getting itchy.” He raised a gloved hand that was clutching a remote of some sorts.
Jim turned to face Bruce. “The hostages he wants are his brother and you.”
“Wait.” You pushed yourself off of the island and walked closer to them. “Jerome has a brother?”
“What?” Alfred jumped in. “You’re having a laugh. No bloody way.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do, but, Bruce, you have to trust me,” Jim begged. “Lucius and I have a plan.”
“Okay, you know what?” Jerome said, and all of our attention turned back to him. “I don’t think you’re taking me seriously enough.” He stared directly into the camera. “Well, all right. Let’s see. Eeny, meeny, miny, mo. One of these people have got to go.”
He pressed a button on the remote with his knee. You waited with bated breath for something to happen, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, you looked on in horror as a man’s head in the background exploded in a burst of flesh and blood. The tv erupted with screams, and you covered your mouth with your hand. You felt like you were going to be sick. You should’ve gotten used to violence in Gotham by now, but it still made your stomach churn.
“Oh.” Jerome pointed back at the headless body behind him. “It’s that guy.” He shrugged. “Oh, well.”
Alfred looked back at Bruce. “Did you see what just happened?” he asked in a hushed whisper. “That man’s a raving, bloody lunatic. He can’t be trusted.”
“Bruce.” You stepped forward and wrapped your fingers around his arm. “You can’t be seriously considering this.”
“Bruce, listen to me,” Jim pleaded. “With your help, we can prevent more deaths.”
There was a moment of silence as Bruce weighed his options. You kept your grip on his arm strong, chewing your bottom lip in anticipation. He sucked in a deep breath before asking, “What’s the plan?”
You and Alfred exchanged a worried glance. Lucius clicked open a briefcase he had set down on the table. “Jerome is using a short-wave radio trigger with a dead man’s switch,” Jim explained. “If we can cut the signal, he won’t be able to activate the explosives.”
“This,” Lucius held up some sort of sleek, black device, “emits a powerful signal that disables all radio waves close to it.” He handed it to Bruce. “Once within a few feet of Jerome’s device, his trigger will be useless.”
“It will give us the time for the snipers to get a clean shot on Jerome, Firefly, and the others,” Jim finished.
“If I wear this, then that gets you time to take them out?” Bruce clarified.
He nodded. “Correct.”
“Are you sure it’s gonna work?” Alfred asked.
“I’m positive.” Lucius bit the inside of his cheek. “Ninety-nine percent positive.”
Your eyes widened, and your hold on his arm tightened. “Bruce, please don’t do this.” You stared up at him, your eyes beginning to water. “It’s dangerous.”
He looked down at you, and his hand closed over yours before he shot you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, (Y/N). Everything is going to be fine.”
You sighed and let your hand slip from his arm. He always felt like the whole city of Gotham rested on his shoulders, especially when it came to Jerome.
Bruce looked back at Jim and Lucius. “What are we waiting for?” His gaze shifted to the tv. “Those people need our help.”
Jim patted him on his shoulder. “Good man.” Lucius grabbed his briefcase, and he and Jim pushed past you and Bruce on their way back down the hall.
Alfred looked awkwardly between you and Bruce. “I’ll give you two a moment then.” He kept his gaze glued to the ground as he ducked out of the kitchen.
Once you were alone, you turned to face him. “I wish you wouldn’t do this.”
His thick brows were drawn together, and his mouth was pulled taut into a straight line. “You know that I have to.” His voice was low and dark. Then, his features shifted out of his grave expression as his eyes brightened and his lips tugged into a small smile. He rested his hands gently on your shoulders and pulled you close to him, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “We can celebrate my birthday when we get back.”
If we get back, you wanted to correct him, but you held your tongue. He held you against his chest, his arms draped around your waist. You grabbed onto his shoulders and rested your head on his shoulder. Behind him, you could still see Jerome’s pale face on the tv. A face you wish wasn’t so familiar.
CHAPTER TWO
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iluvsexyvoltageguys · 4 years
Text
Moment of Truth
Fandom: Scandal in the Spotlight (Love 365)
Pairing: Kyohei x Reader
As soon as you heard the click of your front door closing behind you, you leaned back against it, closed your eyes, and sighed, wondering one more time how you could have left. The question had been heavy on your mind through the familiar cab ride home, to your journey up the building’s stairs, to the taunting silence of your apartment. Still, it was over now and you had to find a way to shake it off.
You turned to lock the door before dropping your keys and coat on the steps behind your kitchen; your shoes were kicked off in the next moment. Making your way toward your bedroom, you considered taking a bath, but decided that might feel a bit too sensual on a night when your body was already pulsating with something you should ignore.
Against your wishes, the events of the day replayed in your mind. You had never expected your day off to suddenly be filled with Kyohei, nor had you expected the onslaught of raw emotion. You had done your best to keep your feelings restrained while helping Kyohei with his busy schedule, but there was no denying the love that had poured out of your eyes when you had smiled at him after the terrifying moment when you almost got mobbed by a group of rabid fans while walking out of the radio station; you had seen it mirrored on his relieved face.
Then there was dinner, peppered with the flirting, adoration, and yet avoidance that seemed to define your relationship. The wine had flowed as freely as the conversation, and you had been left with a pleasant buzz when Nagito, Kota and the others retreated to their respective rooms. You had stayed a while longer, enjoying the company too much to hurry home, but choked on something you couldn't name when he invited you to spend the night. Of course, he had been clear that you could have the guest room, so it wasn't an invitation for that, but it was enough. You had stumbled over a sincere thank you and a weak excuse, before ducking out of the house.
Now, ready for bed and wearing nothing but a pair of panties, you crawled under the cool sheets and forced yourself to relax. It wasn't terribly late, but it had been a long day and the wine still warming your blood was a welcome calm. You had barely closed your eyes when a familiar ring tone sounded from your nightstand. A soft smile lit your face as you reached for your phone in the dark.
"Hi, Kyohei."
His response was barely a breath. "Hi." Hesitantly, he continued. "Look, I know you were just here, but I couldn't go to bed without thanking you one more time."
"Can't get enough of me, huh?"
"Never."
That was honest. You suppose the wine was still affecting him, too. Though, at this point, you couldn't tell if the heat in your own body was from the alcohol or his voice. "Well, thank you again for dinner."
"Anytime. Seriously, you're always welcome at the house…I wish you could have stayed tonight."
"I wish I could have stayed, too." The words escaped before you even acknowledged them, but his poorly hidden gasp brought warmth to your face.
"So why did you leave?"
Somehow, the safety of your bed and the softness of his question allowed you to respond more openly than you normally would. "It was a crazy day, for both of us. Dinner was amazing and almost enough to make me forget all the reasons I've asked you to wait." You drew a deep breath. "If I had stayed, I think I would have forgotten completely."
"You would have had the guest room, and I never would have gone up there."
You smiled into the phone. "I know, Kyohei. But you're not the only one who knows how to use the stairs."
"And you really think you would have done that?"
"Yes."
He didn't respond right away, but you could hear him moving around. In his silence, you found your hand trailing down your body; his words had long had an intimate effect on your body, and the direction of your conversation only served to heighten that. Your fingers skimmed over your flat stomach and you paused momentarily at the waistband of your panties before dipping underneath. He spoke up just before you could feel how far gone you already were.
"Do you want me to let you go to sleep, ______?"
Even if you had been unsure before, you certainly didn't want him to hang up once your name rolled off his tongue like that. You let your hand move down a bit further, the wetness proof of your arousal coating your fingers as you slowly explored. "No, keep talking. Please."
"About anything in particular?"
"What would you do if I came back downstairs?" Your hand froze where it was, mortified by the way your mouth was operating entirely without permission. It was utterly unlike you and you didn't know how to stop it. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.
There was some more shuffling on his end. "Do you really want me to answer that?"
Yes. No. But yes.
"Please."
You heard a long exhaled breath before he began. "You'd knock on my bedroom door and I'd open it, stunned to see you standing there. I'd reach for your hand and pull you inside without a word, and then I'd slide my hand up your arm and over your shoulder before brushing it lightly across your face, finally moving to the back of your head so that I could lean down for a kiss. I guess it would be a gentler version of what happened between us the other night."
You couldn't help but interrupt, even as your hand picked up its pace. "You were right that night. It was amazing."
"God, _____. I just want to make everything amazing for you."
You almost told him that he already did, but drew a shaky line in the sand, and went quiet. You let one finger slip inside you, bringing more wetness with it when you returned to teasing your clit. There was little doubt that you could make yourself come pretty quickly, all your tension coiled and eager, but having him continue to talk you through it was something you couldn't resist. You kept your speed varied, practiced fingers circling, gliding, pressing, seeking.
After a moment, he continued. "I'm not sure how long I'd be able to keep it slow before opening my mouth to you, inviting you inside, needing your breath as much as I need my own. Last time we kissed, your perfect little moan echoed in my mouth, and I've never forgotten that. I want to make you do that again."
Even biting your lip in an attempt to withhold your reaction, a desperate sound found its way out. You knew it was the first obvious sign as to what you were doing, and you held your breath to see how he'd respond.
If he heard you, he didn't acknowledge it.
"I'd start walking backward, pulling you with me toward the bed. Stopping just alongside it, I'd bring my hands down to your waist, feeling the heat of your skin for just a moment before dragging your shirt up and over your head. I'd work my way through everything you were wearing, but I'd do it slowly. So, so slowly, drinking in each new revelation, memorizing the way the shadows play off your body."
You could feel it. The way the material of your clothes teased the needy surface of your skin. The way his hands would just barely touch you as he moved from piece to piece. The way the look in his eyes lit something you had thought was forever dimmed. Trying to hold onto the phone with one hand, as your busy fingers quickened again, you closed your eyes and lost yourself completely in his words. The intensity of your arousal was unprecedented.
"I've honestly never known anyone like you, and just having you there, naked in front of me, would be overwhelming. I'd undress myself, and then lay you down beneath me on the bed. And, as much as we might have thought that our first time would be a furious tangle of limbs, racing each other for a breathless end, I'd make this something different. You deserve so much more."
"So do you."
He let the comment pass, continuing the narrative. "Our bodies would be pressed against each other, aligned perfectly, and you'd know just how much I want you. We'd kiss again, maybe even more passionately than before, and I'd feel your hips arch toward mine. I'd pull away from you, not really meaning to tease, but wanting to learn the rest of your body before falling into the inevitable. I'd whisper something in your ear, something I can't say even now, and then I'd make my way down your neck, nipping, sucking, and kissing the entire way. When I reached your collarbones, I'd trace them, first with my fingertip, then with my tongue, amazed that something so simple could be so beautiful. Then, I'd move even lower, taking each of your nipples into my mouth as I carefully read your reactions, figuring out what kind of pressure you like without you having to say a word."
As he spoke, your hand came up to your breasts and you let your wet fingertips pinch at your already taut nipples, imagining everything he described. When you stopped to slide your hand back under you panties, you saw the glistening of the moisture you’d left behind, and you knew it was how you’d look when he released you from his mouth. It was almost too much to take. This time, your hungry moan was undeniable.
"Fuck, _____." His breathing was as ragged as yours, and you were relatively certain that his hand was working his body, stroking up and down his length while he wished you were there to envelop him instead. "I need to taste you."
His change to present tense, the switch from fantasy to reality, was something you had to correct. The whole conversation was dangerous, but to address anything more directly was going to scare you into silence. Even as two fingers drove deep inside you, you nudged him back to the careful hypothetical.
"So tell me what would happen next…if I had come downstairs."
"I'd gently spread your legs apart, opening your body to me, giving me plenty of room to bring my head down to you. My first taste would be such a small sample, just the tip of my tongue gliding softly against you. After a few moments, I'd flatten my tongue and drag it over you, using more pressure to bring your wetness into my waiting mouth. And as much as I'd love to say that I'd keep up the leisurely pace, I'm just not sure it would be possible; I'd begin truly feasting on everything you could give me, burying my face between your thighs and taking it all in. Just as before, I'd pay close attention to your reactions, giving you more of anything you'd want."
"Your fingers?"
"God, yes. I'd slide two fingers into you, sighing at the way you'd tighten around them immediately. You'd be so warm, welcoming me inside. I'd move them in and out a few times before stilling momentarily and just feeling the way your body responds when I lean back in to suck on your clit. Then I'd find a slow pace, curling them inside you as I worked to make you come against my mouth."
It took all your self-control to avoid giving in and allowing yourself to come right there, nearly weeping with want as you curled your own fingers in the same way he had described. Your swollen clit was begging for more attention; you had abandoned it for a while in an attempt to preserve your sanity as his words brought you to new heights. Your unintelligible responses to his story were increasingly obvious, your breath coming in uneven gasps, and there was no doubt that he knew exactly what you were up to. You just needed him to finish.
"I'd stay still as you calmed back down, small tremors still lingering behind. Once you were ready, I'd crawl back up your body, holding myself just above you. Then I'd feel your fingers wrap around me, rubbing my tip through the slickness left behind, before you'd guide me into you, encouraging me with a flushed face and blown pupils. I'd push into you with one firm stroke, forcing myself to keep my eyes locked with yours, not wanting to miss a moment of being joined so intimately."
You adjusted your fingers again, knowing it wouldn't be much longer, giving your body the touch it needed to finally let go.
"We'd find a rhythm pretty quickly; we're already in sync every day. I'd rock my hips into you and you'd meet me thrust for thrust, eventually wrapping your legs around me to make the angle even better for you. Both of us would be getting louder, unable to hold back any longer, the sound of our connection only driving us more. I'd feel you clawing at my shoulders, and hear you confess that you're close, so I'd let myself get faster, sloppier, bringing us both to that point of no return. And when you clench around me, mouth open wide and eyes slammed shut, I'd be unable to do anything but spill inside you, offering your body anything it could demand from me."
That was it. You were right there, fingers working furiously, needing to come as hard as his version of you just had. Your body was pulled so tight, rigid and arching, as if you could get any closer to your own hand. Only one coherent word managed to stumble from your mouth.
"Please."
"I'm right here, ____. I'm with you and I'm not going anywhere."
You knew he was talking about so much more, but somehow the emotional admission was enough to push you over that physical edge. Your orgasm was as intense as you expected it to be; you were gulping for air even as a series of moans announced your release. You would be embarrassed by it later, but you were too lost in the sensations coursing through your body to acknowledge the huge line that had been crossed. Still coming down from your own high, you barely registered his muffled groan of your name, but the hint of it was enough to send you into another small wave of pleasure.
You were both silent for quite a while, though you could hear shuffling on his end while you moved to wash your hands and change into different underwear. You avoided thinking too much about what had just happened, allowing yourself to enjoy being sated and happy. Somehow you knew he wouldn't bring it up once your call ended, giving you whatever space you thought you still needed. As you crawled into bed again, his voice welcomed you back.
"You okay?"
"More than.” You answered, “You?"
"Never better." He paused, but there wasn't much left to say. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?"
You smiled. "Yes. Good night, Kyohei."
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skvaderarts · 4 years
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Apocrypha Chapter Seven: Encounter
Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!
Chapter Seven: Encounter
Note: Today's chapter is going to be a little shorter because 1) I'm tired and busy doing things with my family 2) I'm planning the beach arc (lol) and 3) because it's an intermission chapter. Things are going to really kick off after the beach arc. I'm having a blast working on the new parts of the story, so stay tuned for more to come in the future!
(-~-)
Capulet was far from a 24/7 city, the metropolis somehow managing to maintain a quiet village-like appeal despite being very populus. It had it's rougher areas that most well meaning people didn't venture into such as the docks and the factory district, and no self respecting citizen would be caught dead (or alive) near the street that the Devil May Cry office called home, but it was still a relatively peaceful place when demons weren't wandering up the streets in search of human blood. 
Despite this, or perhaps as a direct result of it, most places didn't stay open exceedingly late due to the suspicious activities that tended to occur at night that they could now confidently confirm was demonic in nature. People spoke in hushed tones about the shadows they jumped at in the dark as if speaking too loud would seal their citie's fate and it would instantaneously become the next Redgrave City. It was no secret that everyone in the region feared another large scale demon attack. After all, there had been three in the last two decades, four if they counted the Savior incident in Fortuna. Thankfully, the general public on the mainland didn't know much about what had happened that day, but there was one thing they did know. 
Each attack was worse than the last. 
And they were becoming more frequent.
In spite of it all, the bay area was still vibrant and full of life. They were cautious, but they refused to let the constant terror they lived in keep them down. There just wasn't as much of a nightlife scene as some would like. But things really came alive during the day. And this morning was no different. Certain places were a mecca of activity and the small coffee shop that Nico had just pulled up in front of was most certainly one of them. Even from inside of the van, the young gunsmith could see that there were at least a dozen people inside of the shop, although only a few were actually in line. Most were sitting at a table enjoying their meals and beverages or capitalizing on the free wifi. And she was here to join them. In all honesty, she couldn't remember the last time she had gone to a coffee shop. She didn't even really drink it that often at Nero's place. Kyrie was more of a tea person, so she tended to drink whatever they had on hand if she drank anything at all. For the first time in while, she was just going to relax and enjoy a hot drink in peace. 
Nico hopped down from her seat and closed the van door, turning her attention to the front entrance of the shop. The mist had transformed into actual rain, and she wasn't keen on being soaked all the way down to her underwear. As she hurried over towards the door, she made a mental note to acquire an umbrella and toss it into the back of the van at her earliest convenience. 
She slipped in behind someone who was exiting the building, ducking stealthiy behind them as they headed towards their car. As soon as the door closed and she turned towards the counter, a wave of warm, pleasant smelling air hit her. It was a combination of different coffees and a few baked treats that they kept behind the counter, cinnamon and spices hitting her square in the tastebuds. She was now woefully hungry and it showed. As she repressed the urge to allow a puddle of drool to form at her feet, she migrated over towards the line. There was only one person in front of her, which meant that she was in the express lane to receive a tasty treat. But how to pick one? bagels, cakes, cookies, crosaunts… it all looked delectable, and every moment she didn't have one sitting on a plate in front of her felt like an eternity of unfair punishment bestowed upon her by an angry god. She needed to correct that immediately.
"Ma'am, would you like to place an order?"
Nico glanced up at the barista and nodded in affirmation, somewhat distracted by the number of choices presented to her. At this juncture, she would settle for any regular coffee. But she was going to have a hard time picking one of these tasty desserts. The young smiled politely, seemingly amused by her lack of ability to pick.
"If I might interject, that blueberry pomegranate cheese danish is one of my favorites. I get it everytime I come here." A voice behind her said quietly. The deeper timbre was distinctly male in origin, and there was a certain melodious, almost somber, tint to their voice. They spoke as though they were putting a great amount of consideration or effort into something very minor, and she couldn't help but notice. This was mostly due to the fact that they were looming over her, although not standing overly close.
Before she could turn to face the individual in question, they stood up and faced the counter, handing the cashier an undisclosed amount of money before receiving a knowing look from the young woman running the register and reaching for a to go bag that was being handed to them from behind the counter. "One of these days you have to try something else on the menu! Seriously, you come in here like clockwork and always get the same thing. Doesn't that get old?"
"I enjoy the unpredictability of predictability," the hooded man said flatly, waiving off her attempt to pass him back his change and sparing a glance at Nico as she looked at him curiously," Please, keep the change. The young woman's order is on me. Thank you."
The young woman looked almost horrified, signaling to Nico that he had more than likely given her a sizable sum of money. The dark haired woman turned to confront him, taken totally off guard by his random act of generosity. "Um, thanks but I've got it covered. You don't gotta do that."
He nodded, turning towards the door with his order. He still hadn't taken the change. "Oh, I'm well aware of that. But I chose to. After I leave, you can choose to accept my offer or not. But why not benefit from the kindness of a stranger? It's not every day that I do something like this."
Before Nico could say anything further, the taller man slipped out of the front door, leaving her to make her decision. She considered going after him for a moment before going with her gut and staying put. Something told her that he was already long gone. She didn't even need to go over to the door and look. Nico spent enough time around abnormal people to be able to tell that sort of thing.
With a sigh, she shook her head briefly and then turned her attention back towards the counter. He made a valid point. Why turn down free food? "You know what? Sure, whatever! I'll take whatever that guy that just left had. For here, though. I'm not going back out there for a while. It's warm in here."
(-~-)
Magnolia jotted down a final set of notes before closing the notepad that she held in her hands and setting it down on the table in front of her, taking the opportunity to eat a fork full of tiramisu. She spared a glance towards V who was quietly doing the same. They were only mid way through their conversation, but she felt that she understood him leagues better than she had before he had arrived. While he had presented himself as a sort of closed book type at first, she was gradually realizing that he actually had quite a bit of rich internal dialogue that was just beneath the surface, ready to be shared if given the opportunity. He answered when spoken to and never gave her a hard time about any of the questions she'd asked him, most being cursory medical questions. But she felt it was time to change the subject. The last thing she wanted was for this visit to turn into something clinical and strenuous. While much of what he'd told her had been intriguing and she'd have to look into it after he left, she didn't want to overwhelm him. After all, he had to leave here with the desire to return at a later date.
"So, enough of that, then. Tell me a little bit more about yourself," She said as she reached for her glass of tea. She needed to wash down her snack." Do you have any hobbies or passions? Anything pique your interest at all? You seem like the intellectual sort, after all."
V shifted slightly, his prolonged sitting session starting to take a toll on his uncooperative back. "Not anymore. At least not of late."
The botanist gave him a curious look, sitting back in her seat and folding her arms. "What did you used to do? You can't expect me to believe that you don't possess any sort of talent at all, now can you?"
An almost impresevable smile slowly snuck it's way across V's face for a brief moment as he tilted his head to the side, the young summoner reminiscing on one of the few pleasant memories he had clung to all this time. "... I used to be instrumentally inclined when I was younger. At one point…" V trailed off for a second, seemingly second guessing his decision to share this sort of information with her,"... Are you going to-" Magnolia shook her head, already knowing what he was probably going to say. She gave him a playful shove, not so much trying to push him as she was trying playing with him. "Oh, hush now. You're not that old! Nothing you say leaves this house. We've all done silly things in our youth. Nothing to fear, dear."
V slumped slightly as he glanced in the opposite direction. He looked almost embarrassed. He glanced at her for a moment before breaking eye contact again. prefering to stare out of the open window just to the side of her. "I played the violin for a long time and wrote poetry. For a while I restored books as a hobby and..." He glanced down, very clearly flushing slightly as he tried to force himself to say whatever was on his mind,"... I was talked into dance lessons for a year or so by someone I knew at the time. I'm told I was… decent..."
The middle aged alchemist nearly choked on her tea as V let slip his secret shame, repressing the urge to giggle imaturely and go wide eyed. He was quite the multi talented young man, wasn't he? The idea of him dancing was supremely entertaining to her and she made a mental note to try and talk him into giving her a demo sometime in the near future. 
"I take back everything I said. You are old," She said with a pleasant laugh, nodding in approval," If I might, I'd like to pass your contact information along to a colleague. Book restoration is actually quite the useful skill in my trade. I know some people who would pay quite the hefty sum for your assistance."
He considered her offer for a moment before nodding. Yes, that seemed agreeable enough to him. "I can't make any promises. It's been some time since I've worked on anything."
Magnolia smiled, picking up her notepad again and flipping it open to jot down a few notes. This had been an eye opening conversation. "I wouldn't expect you to, dear," She said simply as she scribbled something down on her notepad," But I'd absolutely love to hear you play the violin sometime. I bet you're quite good at it."
V pales, the flush in his cheeks fleeing him like courage in the mists of battle. "Again, I make no promises…"
She stood up and walked towards the kitchen, intent on grabbing something else before they continued. She gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder before proceeding, hoping to calm his nerves. Although he seemed calm and collected, it didn't take a genius to see that he was flustered. "Just keep being you, dear. That's all I ask of you."
(-~-)
Thanks for checking out this chapter! The beach trip is nearly upon us, and I can't wait to hear from you all again! Have fun and stay safe!
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akatsuki-celeste · 4 years
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See Me In Shadow
Commission for: @kingofthewilds Series: Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas Pairing: Libra Dohko/Bennu Kagaho Genre: Romance/Fluff Also posted on: AO3
He was playing with fire and he knew it.
There were so many things that could go wrong with this plan. A Spector could see him. More likely, a Saint could see him. And even though his Surplice was tucked away and he wore the casual clothing favored in the towns and villages that circled the base of the mountains that served as shield to Athena’s base, Bennu Kagaho was fairly positive that no one would believe him if he simply said that he was passing through. No one passed through Sanctuary.
He knew what would happen if he was caught. Not death – a Spector couldn’t die, it was contrary to the nature of their own power, but there were things that were worse than death. He didn’t know much about the young Athena, or about Sanctuary’s Grand Master, but he knew what Pandora and the Judges would do if they caught a Saint sneaking through their territory. Knew what the twins would do. It only made sense that the Goddess of War and her subordinates would be cut from a similar cloth. Gods existed on a different plane of morality, and as far as Kagaho was concerned, far above the mortal definition of right and wrong. And wasn’t it the same now for him, too?
The War hadn’t started yet, at least not officially. It was coming closer, steadily moving towards them like a relentless flow of lava. The pieces were all falling into place, but it was not quite…there yet. Pandora and the twins didn’t have what they wanted. Master Alone wasn’t ready, and until then the wheels of fate would not start turning. Secretly Kagaho was glad for that; he didn’t know what would happen once Master Alone ascended and became Hades in truth. Kagaho wasn’t a particular fan of the unknown, either when it came to himself or someone that he had taken under his wing.
The sound of footsteps and voices rose in the distance, directly in front of him, and Kagaho froze. When the footsteps stopped but the voices didn’t fade he nearly let out a curse, until it suddenly registered that he knew one of those voices. In fact, it was the voice that belonged to the entire reason Kagaho had decided to steal into Sanctuary right under the noses of every Bronze, Silver and Gold Saint that wandered its streets. After a debate with himself that lasted all of five seconds, he crept closer to the edge of the pillar that he had ducked behind and peered around the structure.
He hadn’t realized just how close he’d been to the base of the mountain that held the Twelve Zodiac Temples, but the first one stood before him, as easy to see in the evening light as it would have been midday. The temple itself held little interest for Kagaho, however – he didn’t even know, nor did he care, which one it was. His attention was drawn to the marble staircase that led up to the temple, and the two figures that stood on its steps.
The taller of the two he knew only by reputation and rumor, the golden armor he wore the true confirmation of his identity: Aries Shion, the first protector of Sanctuary’s legendary Gold Zodiac. The second figure wore not the Cloth of his identity nor the traditional Tang suit that he’d worn when Kagaho had first lain eyes on him but instead the standard tunic and trousers that most of Sanctuary seemed to favor. The tunic hugged his broad shoulders and chest tight, the lines of muscle definition showing clear through the fabric, the short sleeves baring muscular arms for all the world to see. If a muscle could be packed into that shorter stature it was; Dohko, Saint of Libra, had built deadly strength and power into every inch of his compact body, though his greatest weapon was the disarming smile and cheerful look in his eyes that could get an enemy to let down their guard with ease and then never know quite what it was that had hit them when the final blow struck them.
Kagaho was close enough that he could see them and hear the sound of their voices, but not make out the words that they were saying to each other. Shion’s hands moved as he spoke; Dohko’s responses seemed casual as far as his body language was concerned. Kagaho debated getting closer to try and make out the words, but it would have put him at risk of being seen – and wasn’t the Aries Saint also one of the Jamirans, which would make him both telepathic and telekinetic? After getting this far undetected, that was not a chance that Kagaho was willing to take.
Dohko reached out and placed a hand on the taller man’s shoulder, smiling at him, and Kagaho felt a sudden sharp twist in his gut at the clear familiarity between the two. Quickly he ducked back behind the pillar, pressing his back against it and returning to the shadows. So what if Dohko and Shion were familiar with each other? They were both Gold Saints, comrades-in-arms. It made sense – it just wasn’t a sensation that Kagaho himself was familiar with. There was no Spector that he could call to mind when he thought of the word comrade. While he did tend to gravitate towards looking after the younger Specters that were recruited to Hades’ cause, he still kept a distance between them, never quite letting them in. Letting them close.  Close enough… to hurt.
Kagaho closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and shoving back the thoughts attempted to surface, unbidden and unwanted, into the forefront of his mind. He was deep in the middle of enemy territory, he needed to keep his wits about him and he was seriously starting to wonder if this all hadn’t been a stupid idea from the very beginning. He should have said no when Dohko had made the suggestion. Should have, except that it was next to impossible to actually say no to him. Not when he flashed that smile, or his eyes looked so bright. That, really, was the most dangerous thing about Libra Dohko. He made Kagaho feel impulsive.
“So this is where you decided to hide,” a teasing, familiar and extremely close voice cut through Kagaho’s thoughts.
The Bennu jumped, automatically moving away from the pillar and assuming a defensive stance, but fortunately managing to restrain himself from actually throwing a strike. For his part, Dohko just leaned against that same pillar, arms crossed over his chest and an impish grin on his face.
“You… don’t do that!” Kagaho hissed, mindful of the volume of his voice and giving a furtive look around. Where had the Aries Saint gone?
Dohko’s grin only grew. “If you’re looking for Shion, he went back into his Temple, and he’s not going- to come out for the rest of the evening unless another Gold Saint decides he’s going to wander off for a stroll. Which isn’t too likely, considering half of us aren’t even here right now.”
Kagaho scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “That isn’t something you should be disclosing to the enemy,” he pointed out.
“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not talking to an enemy right now, isn’t it?” Dohko’s voice pitched a little lower, giving it a deeper cadence, and Kagaho felt a shiver go down his spine at the sound – and at the fact that Dohko was right. Kagaho could have overheard the precise strategy with which Athena intended to win the Holy War, and he knew he wouldn’t have spoken a word. Not to Pandora, not to the twins…not even to Master Alone, as long as he was safe.
“Yes,” Kagaho quietly replied, meeting Dohko’s gaze steadily, finding himself nearly blinded by the brightness of Dohko’s eyes.
“Well, now that that’s established,” Dohko said, clearly pleased with Kagaho’s response, “let’s go. I don’t want to waste any more time, and the longer we linger the higher the chance that Shion might stick his head out in curiosity. He takes his role as guardian of the gate a little too seriously sometimes, I think.” He stepped forward and caught up Kagaho’s wrist, tugging him along – not onto the main street, but further from the pillar and the shadow of the mountain, keeping to the side paths that Kagaho hadn’t even noticed were there.
“Where are we going?” Kagaho asked as he followed behind, letting Dohko take the lead; after all, he was obviously more familiar with their surroundings. “The village?”
“Rodorio? Nah, we’re too likely to run into someone who might recognize you,” Dohko replied with a shake of his head. “Most of the guards have the day or night off, and if they don’t feel like trekking to the city, that’s the next best place to relax.”
Kagaho narrowed his eyes in sudden suspicion. “Half the Saints aren’t here and the guards have an off day? Did you plan this?”
Dohko looked over his shoulder at him. “What – did I plan to invite you into Sanctuary at a point where I knew the odds would be good you wouldn’t get caught? Of course I did. I’d be stupid to invite you when we were at full capacity. You’re good, Kagaho, but you’d never make it past the first gates. Now be quiet and come on. We’re running a skeleton crew right now, but there are still people here.”
Kagaho lapsed into silence, not because Dohko had commanded it but because Dohko was right. Getting to this point hadn’t been without a couple of close calls with patrols, and if Dohko was telling him they still needed to be cautious, then cautious he would be. He was a Specter, a shadow; when he wanted to, he could move without even a hint of sound.
After a few moments, Dohko gave a quiet chuckle of amusement. “All right. Maybe you would have made it past the front gates, after all.”
*****
Kagaho wasn’t certain how long they’d been walking for, but not once did he voice any protest in following Dohko’s lead. He never had, which was probably how he’d found himself in this situation to begin with -if situation was the correct word to be used when it came to carrying on a relationship with the Libra Saint behind the backs of Specters and Saints alike.
He...wasn’t sure if there actually was a word that could describe that.
At last Dohko stopped and released Kagaho’s wrist, leaving the other feeling the loss of the warmth of his hand. “Here we are,” Dohko declared. “No one should have any reason to trouble us here.”
‘Here’, it turned out, was a small plateau, one of that overlooked a good portion of the mountain range that hid Sanctuary, though the domain of Athena itself was to their backs. Kagaho could just make out the lights of Rodorio at the foot of the mountains, and even further out in the distance, the glow of the nearest city. The passage of time was a startling thing to him at times - as a Specter he held immortality in his hands, and yet he scarcely took note of the world around him. When he did, it was always with a jolt at how quickly the world could change.
Kagaho turned to look at Dohko. “Why here?” he questioned. When Dohko had suggested the date, Kagaho had imagined the two of them going down to the village, or perhaps to a city where they were less likely to be known. Although he supposed that if either had been Dohko’s intention then there would have been no reason for Kagaho to attempt to sneak into Sanctuary itself. Still – this hadn’t been what he’d expected.
Dohko had settled himself down on the ground, having brushed aside any rocks or sticks that might have made sitting uncomfortable - though there was nothing that could really be done for the dust and the dirt. There was another cleared spot beside him; Kagaho took the hint, walking over and settling himself down beside Dohko. He was as aware of Dohko’s proximity even sitting side by side, without touching, as he had been when Dohko had grabbed his wrist; this level of hyper fixation on the presence of another person could not be considered healthy, and yet at the same time Kagaho had never felt more at ease. Besides, it was really Dohko to blame – it was his presence, after all.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Dohko murmured, and for a moment Kagaho was confused; it wasn’t an answer to his question, and he wasn’t sure what Dohko was referring to. The village? The distant lights of the city? The emptiness of the mountains? He glanced over at him, and saw that Dohko was leaning back on his arms, and his head was tilted back with his gaze focused on the sky.
Oh.
He looked up and found that, in the course of their walking, the sky had shifted from its twilight shades into full night, a blanket of blackness dotted by a sea of stars. It was a clear night, not one cloud obscuring the view. Stars. Of course it would be stars that would capture Dohko’s attention. Kagaho had nothing against the night and the shadow, but he was a servant of the Underworld. The stars held no real significance to him. Was this why Dohko had brought him here?
“This is one of the best places in Sanctuary to see them from,” Dohko continued despite Kagaho’s silence, still gazing up at the stars. “It doesn’t compare to the view from Star Hill, or so I’m told – only the Grand Master is allowed up there. Still, it’s a good one. And this is a good night for them. I wanted to bring you here – to share this you.”
Kagaho shifted in his seat uncertainly. Okay, so it seemed like this was the reason Dohko had been so eager to get him to Sanctuary. Eager enough to risk his life, though? To look at some stars? “I’m…not really one for stargazing,” he said hesitatingly, looking over at the other warrior. To him, Dohko’s eyes and smile were a lot more captivating than some sparkling lights out in a universe that he couldn’t touch.
Dohko softly chuckled. “No, I guess you wouldn’t be, would you?” he asked. “Specters aren’t tied to the stars the way we Saints are, are they? You have Cosmo like we do, and you burn it like we do, but you draw it from a different source.”
Kagaho nodded. “Our Cosmo draws from Hades and the Underworld,” he replied. “Or so I’ve always been told. To be honest I’ve never given much thought to it. From the moment I became a Specter, the power has simply been there. I only have to reach out and grasp it, and it does what I ask. I’ve never needed more than that.”
Dohko gave a nod, but his expression was one that Kagaho couldn’t quite read. He’d learned that Dohko, for all of his quick wit and easygoing mannerisms, could keep a thought to himself for as long as he needed to, and the other man was always thinking. He turned his face back to the night sky, then reached out and pointed. “There,” he said.
“What?”
“There,” Dohko repeated, and then began to trace lines in the air. Kagaho had to shift closer to him to see the pattern the way that Dohko saw it, but he still frowned in puzzlement. It was a small constellation in comparison to some, made up of only six stars, and Dohko’s tracing of it had those stars split into two shapes that connected on a single, middle start point.
“It has a lot of names and features in a lot of mythologies,” Dohko continued conversationally. “The Vermillion Bird. Suzaku. Phoenicids. The Phoenix. It’s not much to look at, constellation-wise. You have to kind of tilt your head and squint to see the tail, and for the life of me I’ve never figured out where its wings are supposed to be. Shion gives me grief about that sometimes. He says I’m too literal when it comes to the constellations. I just wonder how someone can look at some of these shapes and come up with the image that they do. I mean, take Libra for instance. It’s just a triangle with two lines hanging down from it. Who am I to argue, though? Our Cloths predate some of the modern names for the constellations that they derive their power from, so maybe the stars themselves spoke what their names were. Who am I to argue with stars and gods?”
“And is there a Phoenix Saint?” Kagaho asked, curious despite himself.
“There must have been one at some point,” Dohko replied, “but no one can remember the Cloth showed itself. There always seems to be a few Saints missing with each Holy War, one or two Cloths that never wake up… some people say that’s why the Holy Wars continue. That if the time ever came when all eighty-eight Saints of Athena awoke, everything would change.”  
He lapsed into silence, his brow furrowed slightly, as if troubled by the words that he’d just spoken. Then he leaned back, all the way back, until he was stretched out on the ground with his arms pillowing his head. Kagaho could not recall ever seeing Dohko so solemn before.
“What are you thinking?” Kagaho asked.
Dohko sighed, a heavy sound that made Kagaho imagine a true weight sitting upon the other warrior’s shoulders. “That this won’t last,” Dohko finally replied. “That these stolen moments we take cannot hold up under the pressure of fate and destiny. We serve different gods, gods at war with each other. We’re on opposite sides of the same battle, Kagaho. We could end up fighting each other. We could –“
He stopped short as Kagaho leaned over, brushing his lips softly against Dohko’s. Dohko immediately closed his eyes and returned the kiss, reaching up with one hand to cup the back of Kagaho’s head, sliding his fingers into Kagaho’s hair. He didn’t pull him down, didn’t try to intensify the kiss. It was slow, lazy, and very real.
When Kagaho started to pull back Dohko’s grip abruptly grew firmer, fingers curling around and gripping the other’s hair as he now seized control of the kiss. A shiver ran down Kagaho’s spine as he felt the tip of Dohko’s tongue brush against his lower lip; he parted his lips in response, acquiescing to the Libra Saint’s silent request and allowing the kiss to deepen. Dohko made a sound of contentment against Kagaho’s mouth and relaxed his grip, his hand shifting down to the back of the Bennu’s neck.
The shiver melted into undeniable warmth, Kagaho allowing himself to relax against Dohko, still supporting himself with one hand but moving the other to rest on Dohko’s bicep. He could feel the heat of Dohko’s skin despite the chill of the evening, and when he curled his fingers as though to tighten his grip, the firmness of muscle reminded him that at any time Dohko could probably shove him off, push him away – and that he didn’t. If anything, Dohko was doing his damnedest to do just the opposite, a fact with was a marvel in and of itself to Kagaho. Dohko probably could have had anyone, winning them over with a smile and a laugh, but for some reason the Libra Saint had chosen him - chosen him before Kagaho had even realized what was happening.
With no impending obligations and the blanket of night wrapped around them, neither warrior was in any hurry to track the passage of time. How long they lay there, kisses alternating from soft and languid to intense and fierce at random intervals, Kagaho couldn’t really say. He only knew for certain that, at this precise moment, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
Eventually the kisses slowed to a point where they were merely brushing lips against each other’s, both in a state of docile contentment, Kagaho’s forehead resting against Dohko’s with his eyes closed. Finally, he opened them, and when he started to pull back Dohko moved his hand to allow him to do so. Kagaho didn’t pull back too far, however; still above Dohko, he looked down at him with dark, serious eyes.  
“We’re not at war yet,” Kagaho said, his voice low, his tone serious. “We’re not at war tonight. Let’s not think about the future right now – or the past. Let’s just think about right now.”
He pulled back fully, settling back into his spot and looking up at the stars. “We’re outside of Sanctuary, right?”
Dohko pushed himself up on his arms, looking at Kagaho. “Yes,” he said slowly, drawing out the word. “Why?”
Kagaho pushed himself to his feet and walked closer to the edge of the plateau, looking out at the distant city lights again. Soon the candles in the windows would begin to go out, and the world would be plunged into darkness and shadow again. Not that it mattered. Darkness and shadow was where Kagaho thrived.
He knelt down, acutely aware of Dohko’s gaze on him, and placed his hand on the solid ground. It lit up around him, a circle of darkness, and when he rose and stepped back to open his eyes it was in time to witness his sleeping Surplice rise up from the depths, answering his summons. Just as swiftly he called it to his body, felt the familiar weight settling in around him as it enveloped him, the weight that vanished the moment the last piece was in place and he could extend his wings to their fullest. The Surplice was an extension of himself, of his being - it was always there. He merely needed to reach out and call for it.
As the image of the summoning circle vanished from the ground, Kagaho turned around to find Dohko sitting up and watching intently. He smiled at the mix of apprehension and curiosity in Dohko’s eyes – he clearly had not been expecting this, and the thought that he had actually managed to surprise Dohko amused Kagaho to no end. It was usually the other way around.
“You brought me out here to see the stars,” Kagaho said in answer to Dohko’s obvious but unspoken question. “I figure that the least I can do is take you closer to them.” He held out his hand, holding his breath as he waited to see what Dohko would do.
Of course, what Dohko did was immediately break out into that brilliant grin that made Kagaho’s heart flutter in strange and peculiar ways, scrambling to his feet and hurriedly taking Kagaho’s proffered hand. “Why Kagaho,” Dohko teased, “are you planning to sweep me off my feet?”
Kagaho could not refrain from rolling his eyes as he tugged Dohko closer, stealing another quick kiss and then letting the shorter man wrap his arms around his neck. He held him securely, and Dohko tucked his head into the crook of Kagaho’s neck, seemingly not bothered by the potential discomfort of the sharper bits of armor.
“You know,” Dohko murmured, “there’s another name that Phoenix is known by sometimes, depending on which mythology you follow.”
“Hm?”
“Bennu.”
As Kagaho launched himself into the air, his laughter was stolen away by the rush of the wind around him – stolen for all, that is, except for the one in his arms.
~Fin~
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forlornmelody · 5 years
Text
Traitor, Martyr, Spy Chapter 6: Behind The Glass
Rating: Explicit (some chapters have smut)
Ship: Miranda Lawson x Femshep
AO3 Link: Here
Summary: Miranda uncovers Sanctuary's dark secret.
-*-
It does take some time to get the Alliance resources--funding, shuttles, soldiers, even. The war must be slowing everything down. Hold on, Ori. We’re coming for you.
Miranda has them repaint the shuttle’s Alliance blue to something less conspicuous. She flies to the Citadel, trading their uniforms with actual refugees--they’re going for authenticity, right down to the smell of unwashed laundry. The soldiers chatter and they hoot, and they holler, and the slouch and belch, and laugh so loudly it makes Miranda’s ears burn. Just because they’re on a non-Alliance mission, they think they can do whatever they want. 
Standing in the middle of the shuttle, Miranda clears her throat, she feels six sets of eyes focus on her. “This is a covert mission. We are to infiltrate the facility quietly. No weapons, not even concealed ones. No violence. Recon and report.”
A soldier clears his throat. “No disrespect ma’am, but we get it.”
Miranda’s about to correct him when he interrupts “You know we’re N’s right? Special forces?”
Of course, Miranda knows about the Interplanetary Combatives Training, the Villa, and all their graduates. She worked with several Ns who had left the Alliance for Cerberus. Bloody hell, Shepard. She had been expecting Artemis to send what she could spare, not her best. How in the world did Shepard manage to weasel these handful from the front lines? Away from Hackett? “Noted,” is all she says, proceeding with the mission briefing, in less detail. 
Half the squad will pose as her family unit. The rest will stay behind with the shuttle to cover them when they evacuate. Miranda hopes it will be enough. They are the best. You are the best. It has to be enough. 
The facility dominates the countryside--as large as Henry Lawson’s ego. Sleek lines, polished pavement, and manicured gardens--a far cry from the refugees camped in the Citadel’s docking areas. How anyone could mistake this luxurious facade for a refugee center--Miranda has no idea. 
Sanctuary’s exterior even has pointless water features--wait. 
Miranda feels the warm sea breeze on her face. She hears the jets and the seabirds of Sydney Harbor in her ears. Her father’s perfectly well-kept lawn beneath her feet. 
Damn you to hell, Henry Lawson. 
Nothing good sits beneath those pools of water--Miranda knows that for a fact. She adjusts her wig and joins the line. Lieutenant Davis squeezes her hand reassuringly. No trouble yet. The families in front of them look exhausted, but relieved. They chat about biotiball and the latest Blasto movie, as if the war isn’t even happening. Only when they mention where they’re from, do the nods and sympathetic hums confirm that the Reapers have arrived. Mostly, they focus on their future-speculating about the size of their beds and their rooms, or when they’ll get to talk to their families outside the facility. It takes every bit of willpower Miranda has not to say anything. 
Soon. 
Sanctuary asks for her name, planet of origin, age, weight, and medical information like her doctor’s contact information and any medications Miranda “Ruby” is taking. Strangely, it never asks for her identification number, or about any criminal records. The intake clerks take her body temperature, and saliva, but not her fingerprints. Not once do they ask about family members or emergency contacts. Miranda squeezes Davis’s hand when they hand him a saliva test. They won’t be in Sanctuary long enough to get caught. If all goes according to plan, Sanctuary will be evacuated by then. 
One by one, the individuals hand off their possessions, short of stripping out of their clothes. Miranda and Davis look at one another, handing off their bags. The clerk nods at “Ruby’s” coat. Shaking her head, Miranda murmurs, “It’s for my health.”
“You’ll need to take it off inside, ma’am.”
The woman next to him jabs him with her elbow. “Leave her alone, Charley”
“Fine. But we have rules for a reason.”
“She’s harmless just like the rest of them. Stop being so jumpy.”
“But--”
“You’re fine, ma’am. Just head on down the stairs for processing.”
The line dissolves into a small crowd as they descend further into the facility. At the bottom of the staircase lies a set of double doors. Something about how quiet it is beyond those doors makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Miranda squeezes Davis’s hand twice, and she makes eye contact with Sergeant Jones behind them and winks once. Caution. Trouble ahead. 
As the first set of doors close behind them, Miranda realizes why she hasn’t heard a sound. It’s the hum of machines. But the doors aren’t airtight. First, she smells faint anti-septic. Then miasma fills her nostrils.
No no no. 
What use would her father have for dead refugees? This is wrong. All wrong. 
Another round of antiseptic washes over her face just before the inner doors open. Miranda lingers at the back. Cover me, she whispers into Davis’s ear. He immediately pushes his way to the front of the crowd.
“Hey! What’s taking so long?”
With their eyes trained on her fake husband, Miranda hacks into the nearest console, whispering. “This is Miranda Lawson, if you’ve managed to get this far, you must be desperate or stupid--”
Cold steel at the back of her head cuts her off. Miranda hears a click of a safety before the guard opens his mouth. “No outside communication, lady.”
Miranda holds up her hands. “Sorry. I just wanted to get a message to my parents. They’re awfully worried.”
“Do you seriously want to draw the Reapers here? Get back in line.”
“I’m going.” Miranda stuffs her hands in her pockets, readying her biotics. The guard turns her around, keeping the gun trained on her while the rest of the crowd watches.
“Move! We’ve got more people waiting to get in. Do not keep them waiting.”
If Miranda moves, the refugees will die. If she does nothing, they’ll likely die anyway. She should have brought more soldiers. She should have come sooner. 
As she passes through the second set of doors, just in time to see the stasis pods open and waiting--the guard sucks in a breath, and Miranda feels the hum of someone else’s biotics. 
“Shit! We’ve got a live one!”
Miranda whips off her wig, and the robes hiding her familiar catsuit. She throws the guard against the wall, before the ground shakes out from under all of them. 
-*-
She crawls through a maze of glass, gunfire, screams, smoke, and blood. “Davis, do you read?” She calls into her com. No response. Jones responds with a pained cry before her com cuts out. 
At first Miranda wonders if Shepard has followed her here. Surely Artemis wouldn’t needlessly endanger all these innocent people? Then Miranda hears the wail of a harvester, and the crash of a shuttle. 
Reapers. 
For most of the war, the Reapers and Cerberus have left each other alone. Landing in the same war zones, sure, but fighting the residents instead of each other. Miranda feels awful about leaving the families behind, but she has her own family to search for. And what help would Miranda be as a lone woman in a sea of brainwashed troops and indoctrinated husks? She hopes desperately that she isn’t too late to save her sister. 
A warp here, a gunshot there, ducking and covering when a cannibal feasts on a dead marauder only a couple meters from Miranda’s feet. At least she has an easier time sneaking past the guards. Not that hard to do when most of them lay dead. Reaching another console, Miranda hacks into the system and copies schematics to her omni-tool. Maybe if she shuts down power to the central processing plant, Miranda can cut off the reapers from any arriving refugees. Maybe she can trap them inside the first few rooms and corridors, in case any non-Cerberus employees survive. Perhaps it’s cruel to think this way, but Miranda doesn’t care what happens to those working for her father. No matter how kind, they’ll end up bought out, blackmailed, or brainwashed like Niket. Miranda won’t make that mistake again. 
There. The doors are shut. Nothing can get in or out without a lot of trouble. Miranda leaves another audio log behind. She doesn’t want to consider failure, but if Artemis does follow her here, and the worst should happen, maybe Miranda can do her one last favor. Maybe Artemis can save Oriana if she can’t. 
The control tower lies on the opposite side of the facility. Miranda might as well explore the laboratories on the way. She’s about to enter the first one when she hears Oriana’s voice. 
“This is Oriana Lawson. Stay away from Sanctuary. It’s not what it seems.” 
Tears spring into Miranda’s eyes and her throat swells. Ori’s alive. Well. At least she was when she recorded that message. For the first time since she landed, Miranda dares to hope that her father’s pride will override his ambition. 
“Please. You must listen to me. They’re using--” And then her sister’s voice cuts off. 
A tsunami of images rush Miranda’s brain. Ori lying on the floor with her head cracked open. Husk cybernetics creeping over her skin as the indoctrination takes over. A gun aimed at her head.
Hold on, Ori. Stay alive for me. Please. 
As Miranda pushes through the facility, taking out reapers and Cerberus drones alike, she’s distantly aware of something dripping down her face. Stopping just before a sealed door, Miranda wipes it with her fingers, and smears it on the wall. Red. She’s bleeding. She’s been bleeding.
She doesn’t feel the pain. How many stims has she taken? Not enough if Oriana doesn’t make it out of here. Miranda dabs the wound with her sleeve and uses her omni-tool to hack the door. 
A solitary guard pushes back his chair as the door opens. “Huh? Who’s--”
His chair rocks back, and blood streams from the wound on his head. 
“Just me.” Miranda walks past the body, only to see a biometric scanner. “Bloody hell,” she murmurs, wheeling the body back to the desk, puppeteering his fingers to shut the system down. 
That’s the lovely thing of stims. No appetite, little food consumed, nothing to come up but the bile in her mouth. Ori, Ori Ori, she chants in her mind until her stomach settles. Miranda also records another message. Will Artemis notice the body sitting next to her? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it Miranda? 
Alright. Maybe she’s had one too many stims. 
With the Reapers shut out and the Cerberus troops shut in, Miranda has time to rewind some of the feeds. She confirms what she already fears, and worse.
Henry Lawson has been experimenting on the refugees. He’s been turning them into husks. Why? Because the Illusive Man wants to harness indoctrination. Bastard.
This time Miranda can’t keep the bile down. She wipes her mouth, collapsing to the floor, rattling like a frightened animal. Miranda was stupid to come alone. Artemis should have come with her. She should have told her. 
I’m going to die here. Alone. Ori will never see my face again. I can’t beat my father. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. 
She can’t even breathe. Her breaths fall short, spasming within her chest. Miranda digs her fingers past her temples, twisting into her hair. 
All those years running from her father. All those machinations to keep Ori out of his reach. All for naught. 
An explosion outside the room shakes Miranda from her panic. She must keep moving. On her way out, she grabs the half-eaten protein bar sitting on the desk. The security guard won’t need it. 
Maybe if she gets word out, the Alliance will send help. Maybe the refugees will find somewhere else to stay. Anywhere has to be better than Sanctuary. 
Thinking about her father makes her heart pound, so Miranda focuses on putting one foot in front of the other. Her path gets harder as she goes--the Reapers and the Cerberus forces having taken each other out--leaving the most difficult enemies--banshees, brutes, nemesis, and phantoms. At one point, Miranda reaches for her the half-eaten protein bar--only to find that it fell out along the way. Her stomach gurgles, and she briefly contemplates fishing the bodies for a snack. No time. 
Hacking and opening the door, Miranda raises her pistol, only to find herself alone. She doesn’t even need to hack into the mainframe--the guard had no time to lock it before a Marauder shot him. The marauder's head sits on the opposite side of the room from the body, sliced clean off. Whichever phantom who did it has long since left. At least Miranda won’t have to worry about it. 
Disabling the communication scrambler, Miranda sifts through the security feeds of her father’s office. For all the effort Henry made to level up his security--the recordings of his phone calls are all too easy to find. Miranda’s eyes narrow, looking for the trap in the code, but she doesn’t find one. In fact, no alarms sound when Miranda uploads the video she’s made to the Extranet. Has something happened to her father? And if this is the control tower, shouldn’t Henry Lawson be here? 
“Miss me?” Kai Leng’s breath falls hot and heavy on her shoulders. He screams as the stasis field around her body detonates, melting his gloves right into his skin. Really, he should be happy his fingers don’t shatter right off. 
Miranda jerks away from him, lashing out with eezo to knock him off his feet. Kai Leng flips and lands like a cat, rushing toward her blade out and ready. Holding out her hand, Miranda waits as time slows to a crawl. Her heart beats.
One.
Two.
Three. 
Just as Kai Leng gets within striking distance, his body freezes. Stasis. 
Miranda gathers the collar of his ridiculous uniform in her fist. Maybe she should gloat. Perhaps Miranda should rip that bloody smirk right off his face. Kai Leng deserves worse. But Miranda doesn’t have time. She’s opening her omni tool, readying an overload sequence the moment the stasis field wears off. The door whooshes open. 
“Let him go, Miranda.” Her father’s voice settles over her shoulders like frost. 
She’s not going to face him. Not now. Not ever. “I’m done listening to you.”
Someone whimpers from behind her. 
“Maybe you won’t listen to me. But surely you’ll listen to your sister.” 
Miranda whips around to see Henry’s left hand slip from Oriana’s mouth, in time to hear her scream. His left hand is wrapped around her neck, and he moves his right behind her head, ready to choke. Her father’s gun sits at a holster on his hips. 
“Miranda! Don’t worry about me. Save yourself.” Tears streak stream down Oriana’s cheeks. 
Opening her mouth to answer, Miranda hears the stasis field dissolve with a pop! Shit. Kai Leng’s blade immediately moves to her throat. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
“So have I.” Miranda overloads him, knocking him back with her biotics as he screams. Oriana reaches for her father’s hip. Smart woman--takes after her sister, that one. Before Henry can respond, Miranda tosses a warp at him. Serves him right. 
Miranda feels the tingle of eezo before she’s knocked into one of the consoles. The sound of her rib cracking echoes across the room. “Forget me already?” 
Gunshot. 
No. Miranda jerks her head up and breathes a sigh of relief. Ori still has the gun. But their father is still standing. Damnit. Raising her arms, Miranda moves to warp her father, but nothing rises to her fingertips. When did she last eat something? The ground rushes toward her face. I’m sorry, Ori. 
Instead of the whoosh of a sharpened blade, Miranda hears the beep a computer. Everything, including her father’s voice, sounds like its coming through a can. 
“What are you waiting for? Finish her!”
“She’s not my target.” Kai Leng answers, without really answering. Miranda should stop him, but she should save her energy--what little’s left. There’s another fizz, pop! And the smell of burnt rubber, along with the hiss of a smoke bomb filling the air. 
“Get back here!” Henry shouts, to no avail. 
“He’s gone. And you’re dead.”
Then the door slides open. Oh yes, Miranda’s certainly delirious. No way Artemis Shepard would turn up here. She has a galaxy to save. In the midst of a war, Artemis doesn’t have time for Miranda’s family drama. 
“Commander Shepard.” Henry Lawson calls out. Oriana yelps in surprise as he grabs her. “Excellent timing.”
No. Miranda’s not delirious. She’s having a nightmare--only this time it’s real. Get out of here. I can’t die here knowing he took you too. 
Artemis snarls. “Put the gun down.” She hasn’t looked this pissed since she woke up in the Lazarus facility. Must’ve seen the messages Miranda recorded. Always doing her due diligence--it’s part of what Miranda loves about her. 
“No,” her father glares back, elbow tight around Ori’s neck. He clicks the safety off. They shout back and forth, but Miranda’s head swims as she tries to stand. “That’s close enough! Both of you!”
Maybe she’s not that hungry. Maybe her biotics just needed a cooldown. Her ribs flare white hot when Miranda tries to straighten up. 
“Kai Leng didn’t finish the job, but I will.” 
“It’s over, Henry. You’re finished.” 
“On the contrary. Now that the reapers are taken care of, we have a way out.”
Not again. Never again. “Shepard,” Miranda croaks in protest. “Don’t let him take her.” 
When pressed, Henry claims to be a bloody messiah, saving countless lives. Artemis blazing eyes meets Miranda’s gaze, and nods. “Try to leave with her, and I’ll blast your head open. Let her go, and maybe you walk.”
“I’ve done nothing to you,” Henry snaps. Gaslighting bastard, as always. 
Artemis’s expression remains etched in steel. “Let her go and walk away. I won’t say it again.” 
Her father takes eons to make his decision. “Alright.” He shoves Ori to the floor. The window behind him laces with cracks. “Take her.” It won’t take much.  “But I want out alive. Deal?”
Don’t. “Deal.” Artemis lowers her gun. 
Miranda’s fists shake with fury. Her arm moves before she thinks, and she blasts him with every bit of energy she has left. The glass shatters behind Henry Lawson as he screams. Her voice moves hollowly past her lips. “No deal.”
Oriana’s sharp gasp brings Miranda back to the present. Before she’s even turned around, her sister’s arms wrap around her, pulling her close. Miranda steps back, looking her over. “Did he hurt you? Are you alright?” Ori doesn’t answer, but Miranda feels her tears pooling into her shoulder. “It’s okay, Ori. You’re safe now.”
“I’m fine.” Ori wipes her eyes as she pulls away. “I just want to get out of here.” She won’t meet her eyes. I’m sorry, Ori. I truly am. 
“We will. Just give me a minute, okay?” 
It’s not professional, not in the slightest, to pull Shepard into that kiss, but Miranda’s past caring. Her mouth tastes like blood and smoke, and right now it’s the sweetest thing Miranda’s ever tasted. They’re alive. They’re all alive. 
Artemis kisses back at first, equally elated and desperate for her touch. Soon enough the high of it passes, and she wretches herself away. “Holy hell, Miranda. Why didn’t you tell me about all this?”
“You had enough on your plate.” Miranda wipes her mouth, leaning heavily against the console. Strange, how the excuse fails to hold up when she says it out loud. 
“Hundreds, if not thousands of refugees dead, and I’m too busy? Fucking hell.” 
Ashley Williams, who must’ve slipped in behind her commander, shifts awkwardly on her feet, her assault rifle still in her hands. She glances at Artemis’s former guard from her house arrest. Lieutenant James Vega, who served on Fehl Prime, arrested for a bar fight on Omega, and now part of Commander Shepard’s select Normandy crew. Vega shrugs, and they lead Oriana out of the room, presumably to the nearest outside exit. 
“I didn’t know the extent of it until I got here.” Saliva swells in her throat. “And by then I couldn’t contact you.”
“Communications scrambler.” Artemis takes a steadying breath, but she’s still tense from the fight. “Did you get it?” She stares at the wall behind her, measuring her breathes. Miranda can see each count with the nod of her head. 
Miranda nods. “And then some.” She steps forward, watching Artemis track her movements. Holding out her hand, Miranda reveals the tracker she placed on Kai Leng. “Should lead you right to the Illusive Man.”
Reaching out to take it, Artemis stops, pinching her eyes shut. “I’m glad you’re okay, Miranda.”
“It was nothing I couldn’t handle.” Miranda says quickly, opening Artemis’s fingers so she can place the small device in her hand. 
“But I wish you wouldn’t insist on handling it alone.” Artemis holds Miranda’s hand between hers, and for the first time, Miranda notices the fear behind her eyes. 
“Nobody’s perfect.”
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fanfic-scribbles · 5 years
Text
Home Away From Home
Fandom: Supernatural
Summary: You’re not sure who is stealing your clothes but you would like it to stop. Please and thank you.
Prompt: Written for @gabriel-monthly-challenge’s November dialogue prompt: “Hey, I’ve been looking for that! But…why is it here?” [And so tagging mods: @archangelgabriellives, @ttttrickster, @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @warlockwriter, @archangelsanonymous, and @revwinchester.]
Quick facts: Romance – Gabriel/Reader – Nondescript Reader
Warnings: Fluff; ‘Sugar’ as term of endearment; angel nesting
Words: 1784
A/N: I think over the years I have read through every nesting fic I have found. I have a lot of weirdly specific tropes I really enjoy and this is one of them. Logically yeah angels probably aren’t like birds and their wings probably don’t have feathers and blah blah I don’t really care, I’m just gonna wrap myself up in this conceit like a cozy blanket. Pure self-indulgence, my friends; I am aaaaaall about it. I hope you can enjoy it too, ‘cause this is pretty much what it says on the tin. As for where this takes place in the canon timeline, it would probably be after an alternate S13 ending with no Michael!Dean and the AU!Hunters are settling in elsewhere. Because I am Lazy.
    You have a problem.
You, specifically. As in: only you. No one else has this problem. Not that it’s life-threatening or anything; it’s just…
Your clothes keep going missing.
Nothing that makes it really gross, thankfully, but things that do make it personal, and absolutely nothing that can be explained by a hungry dryer. All your socks are fine. All your favorite shirts, however– the ones that have survived enough hunts to become well-worn– have vanished. That one magical jacket you could wear comfortably in the spring but which also kept you warm in the winter– gone without a trace.
You’re officially fed up when your absolute favorite shirt, the one that’s ridiculously comfortable and the most flattering thing you have ever owned, goes missing.
“I swear I’ve never heard of a creature that eats clothes. You can look it up yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“I will. Also– stop laughing at me.”
Sam, chuckling, shakes his head but goes back to wiping down his gun. Jack, who’s sitting nearby and carefully polishing a knife, stops and frowns. “Could it be a…” He looks uncertainly from you to Sam. “…A ghost?”
“There are no ghosts here, Jack.” Sam smiles at him reassuringly. “This place is warded against just about everything.”
“Besides, I checked.”
Sam gives you a Look. “You checked? For a ghost?”
“I had to do something!” You put down your gun and rag. Any more polishing and you’ll probably put a new hole in it. “This isn’t natural.”
Sam scoffs. “Sometimes the simplest explanation is the correct one.”
“I thought of that, which is why I didn’t say anything for weeks,” you say. “But the whole point of a prank is to get a reaction and nobody has even alluded to it. So no, nobody took them as a joke.”
Sam’s face scrunches. “Okay. That is weird.”
“Right?” Puh-lease; living in the same space as Gabriel and Dean, how could you not first assume it was a joke?
“How would stealing your clothes be a joke?” Jack asks
“Who even knows with this crew,” you say. You can’t help but frown at the bittersweet recollection. “Dean and Gabriel used to love to play jokes. Especially Gabriel.”
There’s a bit of silence (and mental cursing of asshole demons on your part) until Sam clears his throat. “How is Gabriel? I haven’t seen him in a few days.”
More than that; it’s been at least a week since he left. “He took off to do something with Cas. I’m sure they’ll be home soon.”
Sam frowns again. “Cas is with Dean. They met up yesterday and went to check out a possible werewolf thing.”
There’s a bit of panic in you at that– Gabriel is gone and alone– but you shove it down. If that’s the case then it’s only been a day, and Gabriel needs his autonomy. No matter how much you wish you could roll him in a bunch of blankets and keep him close. “Well, he must be fine or Cas would have said something.”
“Right.” Sam clears his throat and goes back to cleaning his weapons. “Now that his grace is back in working order he’s probably just…spreading his wings.”
“Yeah! Yeah.” You throw yourself into that idea. That he hasn’t taken off. Or worse. “He’s used to a different standard. It’s probably weird for him to live underground.”
“Yes.”
“Exactly.”
Jack looks very confused but when your eyes glance over him he nods quickly in solidarity. You smile. Cas and Sam may be the Dads Prime, but the way he’s taken to Gabriel is cute. Well, sometimes family is three jaded hunters and two Heaven-averse angels.
“I think I’m going to go see if I can spruce up his room,” you say and start picking up your things. “Maybe if I clean it up, make it smell nice, put a picture or something…maybe it can feel more like a home.” And less like a cell, you think but don’t add.
Sam looks like he wants to say something, but he just smiles awkwardly and says, “Good luck.”
  Apparently you don’t need it. You thought Sam’s well wishes were warranted– whenever you’ve seen glimpses of Gabriel’s room it’s always looked like utter chaos. Standing in it now with cleaning supplies and some knick-knacks, it’s actually…nice. Chaos maybe, but controlled chaos. The bed in the room is not the original one, but it’s also not opulent enough to hold your attention.
What does catch your eye is the giant pile of fabric on the floor that, from your little glimpses, you had assumed to be a mess of discarded laundry. It’s not. The shape of it is purposeful; sort of square, sort of rounded, and formed by a ton of blankets as well as clothi–
“Hey, I’ve been looking for that!” You fall to your knees on the soft pile and grab your favorite jacket. “But…why is it here?”
And that’s not the only thing stashed in the pile. You find all of your missing shirts, a tan trench coat that looks exactly like what Cas wears day in and day out, and a few other shirts that you can trace back to Jack, Sam, and even Dean.
“Seriously, what the fuck?” But you’re not angry so much as confused. Okay, a little annoyed, but still mostly confused and trying not to judge. If Gabriel was trying to pull a joke, it would’ve come to fruition by now. So why does he have your stuff, and why does it look like he intends to keep it?
“Gabriel,” you say evenly. “When you have a minute, come back to the bunker. We need to talk.”
You ball up the trash bag, dust a little, and light some candles to make the place smell a little less like an underground hideaway. On the dresser, you place a photo of Sam, Dean, Jack, and Cas that you took. Then you sit on the foot of the bed, facing the blanket pile, and wait.
“Please tell me nobody triggered another apocaly–” Gabriel, now next to you, stops so suddenly there might as well be a record scratch. The fact that there isn’t one is telling. “What are you doing in my room?”
“Um, you said I could ‘come by anytime,’” you say, finger-quotes and all. “‘Mi casa es su casa’ and everything. You even amended it to ‘mi habitación.’ Remember?”
“Oh.” Gabriel deflates and looks back and forth between you and the pile. “I really don’t want to have this conversation. Can we not have this conversation?”
You shrug. “I can’t stop you if you’d rather leave, but you should know that if we don’t have this conversation then I am always going to be wondering why you’re sleeping with one of Dean’s shirts.”
Gabriel grimaces. A confirmation if ever you’ve seen one. “So you do sleep in it!” You look from the floor to the bed. The bed which feels very nice. “Why are you sleeping in a pile of clothes instead of your bed?”
Gabriel looks offended. “It’s not just a pile of clothes.”
“Sorry; pile of clothes and blankets.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s a nest.”
You look down at the…nest. You’re sure you don’t know exactly what that means to him, but you can guess at it. “Oh. Is it an…angel thing?”
“Yes,” he says sourly, head ducked down so you can’t see his face. “In heaven you twine grace with your siblings. On earth you have to…adjust. Slightly.”
You take a moment to pick that apart. Siblings; being close. “It’s about family then?” you ask. He nods. He’s lifted his head again but he looks so miserable, you try to make a joke. “Does that make me your favorite then?”
He snaps his head up and looks quizzical. Yeah, a joke at your expense almost always does the trick. You gesture at the sub-collection of your closet. “You have more of my stuff than anyone else.”
Gabriel actually smiles a little at that. “You’ve always been my favorite.”
“Really?” You clamp your hands on your mouth– that was embarrassingly eager. But Gabriel doesn’t seem to care. He’s staring at you, expression calculatingly inscrutable. And yet…
You clear your throat. “So…those are my favorite clothes. What are the chances of me getting them back?”
Gabriel smiles mischievously and folds his arms up to tap his finger to his lip, like he’s thinking very hard about it. You should be worried by that, but it’s such a rare sight these days you’re too happy about it to worry about what’s going to come out of his mouth next. “I’ll think about giving them back.” Gabriel is suddenly lying in the nest like he’s waiting for you to paint him like one of your French girls. He pats the space next to him. “If you help break in the rest of it.”
It’s not quite how you fantasized about him inviting you into bed (which is impressive, considering all the various scenarios you’ve cooked up), but hell, you’ll take it. To offset how you scramble in so enthusiastically you might as well have “Pathetic” tattooed on your forehead, you joke, “Is this a scent thing? Should I roll around?”
“It’s really more of a ‘presence’ thing,” he says as you lie next to him. “But I wouldn’t mind it.”
“What if I roll onto you?”
He stares at you. You cringe. Shit. Touch is, well, a touchy subject ever since Asshole-modeus. “Sorry, I…I guess I shouldn’t say that.”
“Not unless you mean it.”
Hope surges in you. He looks serious, and you try to match it. “What if I do?”
He studies you, like he’s not sure if you're serious. And here you thought you were always pathetically obvious. “Really?” he asks, frowning in a way that makes you want to kiss those creases right off his face. How could he ever doubt?
“I always have been. Just…” You shrug. “What does a hunter, some random human, have to offer someone who dates demigods and can create perfection whole cloth–”
He kisses you. Firmly, and he doesn’t let up until he steals the breath right out of you. When he pulls back you’re left panting but your eyes trail to wet lips curling into a smirk. “Sugar,” he drawls. “I may not like my dad that much but even I have to admit…” His fingers trail up your temple and down behind your ear. “When it comes to workmanship, he’s second to none.”
You duck to hide your ridiculous smile. “Um…” You clear your throat. “This nest is actually really comfortable.”
“It is now,” he says and pulls you in.
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