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#like he’d probably be so fucking unimpressed and that to me is funny as hell
morwensteelsheen · 3 years
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It’s so cool you’re thinking of doing a Faramir goes to Rivendell AU. It’ll be amazing. I definitely think Faramir needs to be with Aragorn etc, and Frodo and Sam go alone, but as you say, who knows how to deal with the Amon Hen incident, it may be worth reading some other similar fics and see if you draw inspiration from them. Interested to see where you go with it and the interactions between Faramir and the other characters if he knew then sooner
one thing im lowkey struggling with with some of the f-goes-to-rivendell fics ive found is either that they’re movieverse (which is totally fine, totally fine, but just not my cup of tea) or they’re a bit starry-eyed about what faramir’s actually like, and seem to think that If Only Faramir Had Been There Everything Would’ve Been Fine. but there are loads of things right off the bat that i think would’ve marked the whole story out quite differently, not least of which is, i think, faramir’s lowkey disdain for things not gondorian (or, not númenórean, i guess more accurately). like. we know boromir went via rohan, and it makes sense that faramir would too — though maybe not on his way to tharbad, maybe on his way to orthanc! — so what the sweet christ would that be like? i mean holy hell can you imagine faramir going and seeing théoden at his worst like that? especially when one of the first things we know about faramir is that he thinks the rohirrim are a bit shit lol?? and presumably he would be seeing éowyn in the depths of her despair but not when she’s just merked the witch-king and kind of drowning in her bittersweet glory. that’d be wild. on that basis alone there’s a part of me that thinks that any sort of AU of that nature would have to spend the bulk of its time dealing with the stretch from when faramir leaves minas tirith in july of 3018 to feb 3019 when they leave lothlórien, because that’s gotta do a real number on his personality. the only thing im absolutely 100% certain of in this whole AU is that faramir starts as a massive aragorn simp and actually has his simpery tempered as they go on because he realises that his interests are actually quite limited (dare i say — provincial?) whereas aragorn’s about ready to storm the whole fucking continent. which i think would make it super interesting for how faramir lives his post-war life (especially because i havent decided if boromir and denethor still die in this AU.) 
anyways sorry i am rambling!!! but Yes. i am planning on writing this at some point. lmao
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pikapeppa · 3 years
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Garrus Vakarian x f!Shepard: Crick
Hello friends and loved ones: I am dipping my toe into Shakarian fic. Haven’t quite decided yet how much to commit to writing this pairing in detail, so here’s a little oneshot set just after the Horizon mission in ME2. ~2400 words. (Tumblr only for now, but I’ll post on AO3 if I decide to write more.)
******************************
Garrus sighed as he made his way to the main battery room. There was a stiff feeling in the left side of his neck and shoulder when he tilted his head, and he was annoyed by it. It was his own fault, really; he’d fallen asleep at his weapons modification table again last night and woken with this crick in his neck that wouldn’t go away.
It was one of those times when he really wished he could get a proper hammer massage. There was that one place on the Citadel that did real Palavenese massage, the good kind that you really felt vibrating all the way through your carapace into your bones, but Garrus wasn’t sure if Shepard would be ordering them back to the Citadel anytime soon.
It’s just a crick, he reminded himself. It could be so much worse. The fight they’d just gone through on Horizon had been… a tough one, to say the least. Any fight with an unfamiliar new enemy could be unnerving, but seeing that Harbinger thing jumping from body to body during the fight had almost been enough to make Garrus pause.
Almost, but not quite. Archangel never hesitated or missed his shot. 
He stepped into the main battery room and took a deep breath, then released it in a satisfied sigh. The air in here smelled like clean plastic and a hint of metal, and he savoured the relaxing smell just as he did every time he stepped into this room after a hard fight. 
He flicked on the monitors and cracked the joints in his fingers, then started his usual routine of checking the gun settings – a routine that was more for comfort now than necessity, if he was being totally honest. Cerberus might be a pack of crazies doing their twisted human experiments, but they sure made a mighty fine canon. 
He finished up his calibrating routine, and he was just about to move on to studying the Collector particle rifle that Shepard had salvaged when he heard the distinct beep-and-shunk of the door unlocking. A second later, the doors slid open, and Shepard stepped through. 
She nodded briskly. “Garrus. Just checking in. You doing okay after that fight?”
“I’m just fine, Shepard,” he assured her. “I was about to start looking at your new toy here, actually.”
“That’s great,” she said. “It looks like a powerful little piece of tech. Something we can turn to our advantage, you think?”
“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “There’s nothing I find more satisfying than using the enemy’s own weapons against them.”
A small smile crossed her face, just as he’d hoped it would. He hadn’t seen a smile on her face all day, not since the Collectors had gotten away with the population of Horizon’s colony. Kaidan’s angry lecture probably hadn’t helped things, either. 
She huffed and leaned an elbow on the weapons mod table. “That’s pretty bloodthirsty of you, Garrus.” 
“Bloodthirsty? Me? Never,” he said. “Thirsty for justice, on the other hand…”
She laughed — a husky rolling sound that always reminded him, for some reason, of brandy-filled chocolates. “What a line. Did your time on Omega inspire you to dip your toe into writing noir mystery novels?”
“What if it did?” he said playfully.
“Then I’d tell you stick to your dayjob,” she replied.
It was Garrus’s turn to chuckle. Shepard smiled at him once more, then straightened up and nodded at the particle rifle. “I know you just got started here, but I’m interested to see what you find. Mind if I watch you working for a while?”
“No problem,” he said. “Might ask you to throw up a barrier for your own protection, though. This thing doesn’t use conventional heat sinks. I’m not sure yet if it can even be fully turned off.”
She nodded and cast herself a barrier with a quick clench of her fist, and Garrus got to work studying the Collector rifle. He scanned it to build a schematic and explained the exploded view to Shepard, and she frowned thoughtfully and asked questions about the weapon’s uses and disadvantages, and all the while, as he often did, he wondered what she was really thinking. 
By any objective standards, it had been a bad day. They’d just watched most of a human colony get taken away by the Collectors. Her former lieutenant had accused her of crimes against her race right after a really tough fight, and when they’d boarded the Normandy once more, the Illusive Man had told her that he’d actually incited the Collectors to target Horizon. 
If Garrus was in Shepard’s place, he’d be vibrating with anger by now. But here she was, watching him dismantle a gun with the calmest look on her face. 
A solid half hour later, when he’d finished thoroughly surveying the rifle, he tapped his visor from its analysis mode back into its resting mode and looked at her. “I think that’s about all I’m going to do with this rifle for today. You need me for anything else?”
“Nothing else for now,” she said. “Thanks for the demonstration. I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped back toward the door. 
On a sudden whim, he opened his mouth. “Shepard, hang on a second.”
She turned back to him. “What is it?”
He hesitated. Now he was wondering if the question at the tip of his tongue was too personal. He and Shepard were friends, sure, but his question might touch a bit of a sore spot, given what had happened today. If Garrus knew anything about Shepard, it was that she wasn’t much of one for talking about her feelings when missions didn’t go as expected. Not that Garrus was a talky-feely sort of guy, either, but still… 
She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and he shook himself. He’d called her to turn around; he had no choice but to ask now. “Are you doing okay?” 
Her eyebrows rose higher. “Sorry?”
“This whole Collector business on Horizon,” he clarified. “I know it didn’t go down the way we wanted, and then with the Illusive Man being, you know… illusive.” He lifted his shoulders. “It can’t have been easy.”
Her blue-black eyes crinkled at the corners. “You worrying about me, Vakarian?” 
“A little, maybe,” he said. “You’ve only taken a dig at me once today.”
Another smile flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later, smoothed back into her usual businesslike expression. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s a hit to have lost the colony, but we’ll save the next one. I’ll make sure of it.”
He nodded. “Seeing Kaidan was a bit of a shock, huh?”
She huffed and folded her arms. “It wasn’t ideal, but that’s the way it is. He’s got his mission, and we’ve got ours. We can’t lose our focus over personal feelings.”
Garrus nodded again. Everything she was saying was reasonable and true, and her calm attitude was envious, really. If Garrus was able to keep his calm like Shepard did… well, he’d tried to channel Shepard’s calm while he was on Omega, but it had only gotten him so far. Garrus had never known anyone, human or otherwise, who kept their cool all the time quite the way Shepard did. 
And yet, for some reason, he just… he wasn’t sure. Her manner struck him as a little bit off, somehow, like the feeling of the crick in his neck.
She lifted her eyebrows. “Anything else?”
“How do you do it?” he said bluntly.
She blinked. “Do what?”
“Keep it together all the time,” he said. “You never seem uncertain. You always seem to know what you’re doing, even if you can’t possibly know. I have to admit, I envy you,” he admitted. “How is it that you always manage to keep it together?”
She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she just stared at him without speaking, and Garrus started to feel a little awkward. It was hard to tell from the look on her face, but he thought that maybe she was… was she angry? Surprised? Bored, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. Human expressions were usually easy to interpret, with their fleshy lips stretching and pouting and their eyebrows leaping up and down. But when Shepard was in her ‘commander’ mode, she could be so damned hard to read. 
She glanced at the closed door. Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and sat in his chair. 
She raked her long black bangs back from her face and looked up at him. “You want to know my secret?” she said.
“Secret?” he said blankly. “To what?”
“To staying calm all the time,” she said. “Can I tell you my secret?”
“Um, sure,” he said. 
She leaned toward him, and he instinctively stooped down a bit to hear her better — a good thing that he did, since her voice was low and conspiratorial when she spoke. 
“I cry in the shower,” she said.
His guts twisted in a funny way. “What?”
She leaned back in his chair. “I cry in the shower,” she said. “When something really fucked up happens, I get in the shower at the end of the day and I cry like hell.”
He stared at her wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t this. 
A little smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’s wrong? Not the answer you were hoping to hear?”
“It’s — it’s not that,” he said. “I’m just, uh, surprised. You cry in the shower?”
“Yep,” she said. “Not bullshitting you, I promise. This is not a bet with Joker or anything like that.”
He tried to gather his wits. “So… what, you cry in the shower, and then you just… get back to being Commander Malin Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and resident Reaper conspiracist?”
She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s like a purge. Works perfectly every time.”
He nodded slowly, feeling like he needed some time to process this, and Shepard huffed and punched his arm in a friendly manner.  “Not so impressed with me anymore, huh?”
That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was unimpressed. But now he was actually worried about her. In all the time Garrus had known her, he had never once imagined her crying about anything. If what she was telling him was true, though…
Hang on. How often did she cry in the shower, exactly? No, he couldn’t ask that — it would definitely be overstepping. 
He scrambled to find a clever reply. “It’s not that,” he said. “Actually, I’m jealous.”
She laughed. “Jealous? Why?” Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait, can turians cry?”
“Sure,” Garrus said. “But we don’t do it often.”
“Is it hard for you to cry?” she asked.
“Well, the turian military doesn’t exactly encourage you to curl up in the corner for a little weeping time,” he said dryly.
She snorted. “Not what I meant. I was more wondering if, uh, since you have deep eye sockets, maybe your tears collect in there somewhere…?”
He flared his mandibles in amusement. “Tears don’t collect in a little reservoir under our eyes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he drawled. “But yeah, we can cry. It just doesn’t happen much. Which leads me to the jealousy,” he added. “You get to sit in your shower crying whenever you feel like it? Forget the private cabin: that’s the real luxury of being the commander.”
She laughed again, more heartily this time, and the husky warmth of her laughter was such that Garrus could almost taste the sweet bite of brandy and bittersweet chocolate. “Well, if you ever want to try it sometime, let me know.”
“Try what?” he said. “Crying in the shower?”
“Yep,” she said. “You can borrow my private shower instead of using the shared showers down here, if you want. The walls are soundproof, so nobody can hear you wailing.”
For a split second, an image flashed across his mind: Shepard’s private shower. No, not just Shepard’s private shower: Shepard’s private shower, with Shepard in it. Shepard naked in the shower — what did her body look like under those clothes, he wondered? — and he, Garrus, joining her in the shower —
Wait. Wait a second. Why was he thinking about that? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It was Shepard, for crying out loud: his friend and his CO. Who did he think he was, to imagine his human female CO naked in the shower? 
He scrambled to get his thoughts back on track. “I’ll, uh, let you know,” he said. “Might have to train my eyes how to cry, it’s been so long.”
She smirked. “Nice try, Vakarian. Something tells me you’re not quite that heartless.”
He chuckled — a little weakly, to be truthful, but Shepard didn’t seem to notice; she was rising from his chair with a smile. “Well, I should go. I’ll see you later.”
“See you later,” he echoed, and he watched her surreptitiously as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sat in his chair and closed his eyes. 
Crying in the shower… he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it. He’d expected her to give him some kind of encouraging advice or bolstering words of wisdom, like the sorts of things she said to the team before they set off on a mission. But somehow, hearing her say she cried in the shower was… interesting. It made him think about her in a different way. He was worried for sure, but also… comforted, somehow, to know that even Shepard got overwhelmed enough to cry. It seemed that under all that heavy N7 armour, she really was a regular person, too. 
Under all that heavy N7 armour… A flash of a thought projected itself on his closed eyelids: Shepard stripping off her armour, her slender human fingers raking her sweat-dampened bangs back from her face, the small bare patch at the nape of her neck where her short spiky hair faded into light golden-brown skin… 
He snapped open his eyes. Was he drifting off? He must be more tired than he thought. No other reason that he’d keep thinking about Shepard like this. 
He rose from his chair and rolled his shoulders, then clicked in his mandibles in annoyance as the crick in his neck announced itself once more. “Really could use a damned massage,” he muttered. Well, he’d just have to suck it up and wait until they got back to the Citadel.
In the meantime, he’d just have to cope with the strange nagging feeling of the crick in his neck.
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marauderundercover · 3 years
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Taking Chances Ch. 23: Stealing the Batmobile (Alt Prompt Driving)
AO3
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Marinette looks at her little brother with an amused expression before asking:
“He really stole the Batmobile?” 
“Yup. Claimed he was a better driver than me.” Dick says with a snort. Marinette winces. 
“To be fair, he’s probably right. You’re kind of an awful driver.” She says with an apologetic smile. Dick clutches his heart and sniffles loudly. 
“My own flesh and blood!” He cries dramatically. Damian scoffs. 
“Tt. She is on my side, Grayson. As she should be since she is <i>my<i> flesh and blood.” He says with a scowl. 
“The pain!” Dick cries, throwing himself off the couch and onto the ground. Jason just sighs and shakes his head, while Tim looks on tiredly. The five of them had decided to hang out at the manor together earlier, which had somehow shifted into telling stories about each other and funny things that had happened. Marinette loved hearing stories about her brothers from when they were younger. 
“Out of all of us, I am likely the most competent driver.” Damian says, glancing at Marinette before nodding once. “And I assume Marinette would be the second most competent.” He adds. Marinette’s face instantly turns red- she’d never driven before. Her little brother (who was two years younger) was already a great driver. And she…..was not. 
“Oh, uh, I’ve actually never driven before.” She admits. Damian frowns. 
“Wait, you’re almost fifteen and you’ve never driven before?” Jason asks, leaning forward. “Like, ever” 
“Well, no. You can’t get a license in France until you’re eighteen. So no one in their right mind is going to let a fourteen year old drive around the city.” She explains. She watches as a thoughtful look crosses Damian’s face before settling back into a neutral mask. 
“I require your assistance with something. Follow me.” He says, standing and walking out of the room. 
“Er, okay.” She says, furrowing her eyebrows. “We’ll be right back.” She reassures her other brothers. She walks quicker, trying to catch up with Damian who was practically running at this point. He glances at her and raises an eyebrow. 
“Did the others act as if they would follow?” He asks. She frowns, but shakes her head. “Excellent.” He says, opening one of the entrances to the Batcave. She follows him, but freezes as they walk in and she sees where he’s heading. 
“Damian, we’d get into so much trouble.” She says, planting her feet and freezing in place. 
“Not if we aren’t caught. Which we will be if we don’t leave soon.” He says, rushing into the changing room. She stays where she is, glancing down at Tikki peeking out of her purse. 
“Marinette, your father would not like this.” She warns. Marinette bites her lip. 
“I know, but Damian seemed so excited.” She counters, with a small smile. Tikki gives her an unimpressed look. Marinette watches as her little brother walks back out, dressed in his uniform. He nods at her once and then climbs into the driver’s side. She hesitates, weighing her options. She could go with and attempt to drive the Batmobile, or she could watch her little brother drive away and know that no one knew where he was. Crap. Pushing away every instinct telling her this is a horrible idea, she rushes after Damian and hops into the car, calling her transformation as she does. She grins at her brother, her Ladybird suit had started giving her more confidence than her Ladybug suit. It was odd, but she loved it. He immediately slams on the gas, driving out of the cave and into Gotham.
“Ukht, will you be driving as well?” He asks and she hesitates before nodding. It was the Batmobile, what could go wrong?
---
Okay apparently a lot could go wrong, she thinks, watching as the Batmobile slides into the Gotham river. 
“How the fuck did you guys manage that?” A voice asks. She whirls around, wincing when she sees Jason, as Red Hood. She can’t see his face but she can just imagine the look he’s giving them. 
“In my defense, we were left unsupervised.” She says. He scoffs. 
“You little shits left us!” He reminds her. 
“Ladybird had never had the chance to drive before. It made sense to make sure that she could drive and to train her in case she ever needs to utilize a vehicle on patrol.” Damian reasons. And yeah, the reasons are sound. But the Batmobile slowly sinking into the river kind of makes his reasons weak. Just a bit. 
“And driving into the river was, what, to see if she could drive a boat?” Jason asks, crossing his arms. 
“Don’t be ridiculous, Hood. That’s a car.” She says, the words tumbling out of her mouth. She regrets it, but only for a second because then she hears Damian snort. Score! Every time she was able to make her angriest brother laugh, she gave herself a point. She was so close to double digits.
“Well B’s gonna be ready to go on patrol in less than an hour. Either of you two geniuses have any ideas on how to get the car out of the river and back to the cave?” Jason asks, pulling Marinette from her silent celebration. 
“We could call a tow truck.” She suggests. 
“Tt. That is unwise. The Batmobile is not a regular car.” Damian argues and she huffs. 
“Okay well, last I checked you didn’t have any bright ideas either.” She quips, annoyed with him again. They were good at that. Laughing one minute, then annoying each other the next. She figured it just meant they were doing something right as siblings. 
“Ladybird might actually have a good idea, Robin. Unless you want to call Superman here and have him rat you out to B.” Jason says. A devious smirk stretches onto Damian’s face and Marinette suppresses a shudder. She was definitely glad the kid was on her side. Most of the time, anyway. 
“Excellent point, Hood.” He says, clearing his throat slightly before yelling. Well, not really yelling. Just talking slightly louder than normal. “Jon. I require your assistance.” A few moments later a boy flies down and lands in front of Damian. If she didn’t know any better, Marinette would assume the boy was another of her dad’s kids. Dark hair, blue eyes. But this kid had a huge smile stretched across his face. So maybe not. 
“Hey Robin! I haven’t seen you in ages!” The boy says cheerfully before waving at Red Hood. He turns to her and his smile falters slightly before it’s back full blast. He sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you! I’m Superboy.” He says. Marinette grins, shaking his hand back. 
“Ladybird, and likewise.” She says. 
“So what-” Jon (Superboy?) starts, glancing at the river, eyes widening at the car. “Did you steal the Batmobile again!?” He yelps, obviously shocked. And concerned. Which she understood. It’s not everyday you see the Batmobile slowly sinking into the Gotham river. 
“Er, temporarily misappropriated.” Marinette says, glaring at Jason who snorts at her response. 
“No, they definitely stole it. And Ladybird here decided she’d try to drive for the first time. What I’m not understanding is why you knuckleheads thought it’d be smart to drive so close to the river?” He says. 
“Obviously I wasn’t thinking clearly, Hood. Can we please just focus on getting the car out of the river before I’m murdered by Batman?” Marinette rambles, looking pleadingly at Jon. It was odd, begging a little kid to drag her superhero dad’s super car out of a river, but it had to be done. 
“Oh, yeah, of course!” Jon says, his earlier shock replaced with a wide smile once again. He flies over and grabs the car, gently pulling it up and placing it back on the road. Marinette winces at the water pouring out of the car. She was so grounded. 
---
Walking into the Batcave, Bruce frowns at the lack of Batmobile. He’d passed Tim and Dick on his way to the Cave, so he knew they didn’t have it. Which left his two most mischievous sons and the daughter they had so easily corrupted. Hopefully they were just getting fast food or something again. Hopefully nothing bad was happening. He winces. That was unlikely with his children. He rushes over to the computer, tracking the Batmobile and accessing the cameras near the car. The image in front of him makes him pinch the bridge of his nose and grit his teeth. 
“Just one day, one day is all I ask.” He mumbles under his breath. Because of course traffic cameras would catch Superboy lifting the Batmobile out of the river. Of course. He sits in his chair and watches as the kids argue for a few minutes before getting in the car and driving off. He tracks them all the way until they’re past cameras, and then he waits. Knowing it’ll only be moments until they’re in the Cave. He sits, silent as they get out of the car. 
“No, seriously, he’s gonna know.” Marinette is saying, obviously looking nervous. 
“Then beg Tikki to take all the water out or something. It’ll be fine, Pix.” Jason says. 
“She’s gonna be so mad at me though. She warned me that it was a bad idea.” Marinette says, and Bruce decides to speak up. 
“She was right.” He says, turning his chair to face them. 
“SHIT! Goddamn you Bruce, why the hell would you sneak up on us like that?” Jason huffs out, glaring at him. 
“Perhaps it’s the same reason that you three thought it was a good idea to steal the Batmobile.” Bruce says, crossing his arms. 
“Uh, fuck that. I wasn’t in on it. I went out to try and find the little shits when I realized they were gone.” Jason argues, crossing his arms too. 
“Ukht had never driven before. I believed it was a useful skill that she could utilize on future missions or patrols.” Damian says simply, his calm demeanor the complete opposite of Marinette’s current demeanor. She’s obviously panicked and anxious, avoiding looking at him. He feels his former resolve soften slightly. No one was hurt, they obviously felt bad. And Marinette obviously felt bad about it. But still….
“You’re benched for the night. Both of you.” He instructs. Damian grits his teeth but nods, while Marinette looks confused. 
“But I’m not even-” She starts to say, stopping as Jason throws a hand over her mouth. “Well, well, look at the time. I’ll take them upstairs and tuck ‘em in before patrol.” Jason says, rushing away with Marinette and leaving Damian behind. Damian turns to Bruce and frowns. 
“It did not go unnoticed by me, Father, that you benched the one child you do not allow to patrol. You may have done this in an attempt to not punish Marinette, but make no mistake she will remember this. And she will be on patrol later this week. After all, you only benched her for tonight.” Damian says, nodding at his father before walking away. Bruce sighs. He hadn’t thought this one through.
---
“What was that for?” Marinette asks, frowning at her brother as he drags her to the house. She drops her transformation as they walk, wincing slightly at the ‘we’ll talk later’ look from Tikki. Oh yeah, she was definitely getting lectured. 
“He just benched you for tonight, right?” Jason asks, a smirk on his face. Marinette huffs. 
“Yeah, but I’m not even technically allowed on patrols.” She reminds him. 
“Except now, you’re technically allowed to come tomorrow. He said you were ‘benched for the night’.” Jason points out. Marinette opens her mouth to argue, then closes it. She blinks before a wide smile stretches across her face. Was she really gonna get to go back on patrol on a technicality? Suddenly, she no longer regretted driving the Batmobile into the river.
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mochegato · 3 years
Text
Hope on Board
Chapter 27 – The Time Has Come to Talk of Many Things
Chapter 1     Chapter 26
Nightwing landed on the roof Chat had taken Marinette to and immediately rushed over to her.  He took a moment to study her, looking for any new indications of injury or distress. Assured there was none, he pulled her into a tight hug, unable to withhold touching her any longer.  He needed to know she was safe.  He needed to feel her in his arms, have that familiar weight.  He needed to hear her reassuring, even breathing, to calm his own erratic breathing.
Marinette let out a surprised squeak and looked over to Chat in confusion. Chat stared at Nightwing with a concerned frown but didn’t move to detach him from her.  Nightwing pulled away just enough to look at her face. He’d missed being able to look in her eyes.  He cursed his mask being between them.  Even with the mask, her eyes were sparkling in the moonlight but he would bet his guitar that her eyes would look even more beautiful, the sparkling even brighter, if he didn’t have his mask on.  He reached up to cup her face, but she stepped back before he could reach her.
Marinette eyed him suspiciously and looked back to Chat to see what his reaction would be.  Honestly, the most curious part of the whole situation was Chat just sitting back and letting Nightwing touch her like this.  Something was going on and they both knew what it was.  Chat would never allow just anyone to touch her in such an intimate way. He barely allowed it when Dick did it and he knew she had liked that contact.  She turned back to Nightwing with a slight look of fear.  If Chat was allowing him to touch her like this, what were they hiding?
Chat looked back and forth between the two for a few seconds before speaking up awkwardly.  “Well, I think you’re in safe hands now, Princess,” he nodded to Nightwing with a severe glare.  “I’ll leave you two to talk.”  
He gave a two-finger salute to them and jumped back toward the Court’s base. Marinette gave him a confused frown and turned back to Nightwing and raised a curious brow at him, her breathing picking up slightly. She waited a few moments for Nightwing to say something, but he seemed just as uncomfortable as Chat had, and unwilling to start the conversation.  “Is everyone okay?  Is Dick okay? Did anyone check on him?  If they wanted my son, they may have wanted him as well.”
“Everyone is fine,” Nightwing assured her gently, his expression softening slightly from her concern.
Marinette let out a sigh of relief but then noticed how he was standing.  He was cradling his side in a very familiar way. In the same way she and Chat would cradle their sides when they were injured in battle.  “You’re hurt!” she exclaimed, rushing toward him to examine the wound.
“I’ll be fine,” he tried to protest, but Marinette wouldn’t hear it.  She gave him an unimpressed look and pulled on his hand to move it.  He reluctantly took his hand from the claw marks for her to examine.  He hissed at her gentle prodding to gauge the severity of the wounds.  “Stitches at least,” she mused.  “You have someone that does that for you?”
“I do,” he nodded in affirmation, “back in the Cave.”
She nodded in approval, but the furrowed brow and slight frown of concern stayed in her expression.  Nightwing rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and looked around them.  The buildings were mostly uninhabited, but there were still a lot of floors that could be occupied and have people watching them.  He couldn’t just pull his mask off here and he couldn’t act too intimate in case someone saw and figured out who he was.  “Are you really okay?  Are the babies okay?  Did they do anything to you?  Why didn’t you wait for us?”
She blinked a few times to process the onslaught of questions.  “I knew Chat would come but I didn’t know he was bringing the cavalry,” she pouted.  Honestly, did he lecture everyone he saved?  “I didn’t know how long it would take him to find me and I sure as hell wasn’t just going to sit back and let them take me to a secondary location or use me and the babies as a human shield.  Do I look like a damsel in distress?”
“It was incredibly dangerous,” Nightwing objected, trying to fight down his admiration of her fiery streak.  He always knew she was fierce and feisty, but he hadn’t realized just how capable she was. Her belly looked like it weighed more than the rest of her, and she had still managed to make her way halfway to freedom on her own and help fight, albeit not much, in the last fight.  “They could have killed you for trying to escape.”
“I can protect myself,” she answered indignantly.  “I knew they wanted the babies for some reason, so they weren’t going to hurt me too badly and risk harming them, which gave me an advantage because I had no such qualms.  I was willing to do what I had to in order to protect my babies,” she protested, laying both her hands over her belly in a protective gesture.  “It was more dangerous for me to just sit around and hope.”
“Well, you definitely never have been the wait around type,” Nightwing chuckled affectionately.  He watched her intently for a few moments, a concerned frown settling on his lips. “You sure you’re going to be okay? An ordeal like this… maybe it would be better to stay somewhere with better security for a while.”
Marinette raised an eyebrow at him.  “You have a suggestion?”
Nightwing rubbed the back of his neck.  It was now or never… well not never, but he had to do it now.  He’d put it off for too long.  She’d waited for too long.  He took a deep breath to ground himself and prepare for the long overdue conversation.  “Marinette, I…”  His reveal was interrupted by Marinette groaning in pain and crouching down. “What happened?  Are you okay?”
“No. I knew I shouldn’t have tempted fate.  That was a contraction,” she looked down at her belly for a few moments. When she looked back up, her eyes were sparkling with surprise and anxiety and anticipation.  Finally, her eyes seemed to settle on concern.  “And I’m really early.”
“The doctor said you probably would be,” Nightwing said with a calm he didn’t actually feel.  His tone was even but his mind was going faster than Wally trying to break a sound barrier.  Everything that they needed to do, everything that might happen, everything that they had yet to discuss.  But the most important thing right now was getting Marinette to a hospital.  He reached out to guide her to the stairs.
“How did you know that?” She asked suspiciously, pulling her arm away from him.
“We need to get you to the hospital,” he answered instead, attempting to guide her toward the door to the stairway again.  Once they were in the safety of the stairwell, he touched his ear. “Agent A, we need a car here immediately to take us to the hospital and a change of clothes, if you could.”
She shook her head and took a deep breath and let it out slowly grimacing in pain. “I need to contact Dick.  He should know.”
Nightwing smiled lovingly at her.  He ran his hand over her hair and cupped her face.  “I’m right here.”
Marinette batted his hand away and furrowed her brow with an annoyed huff. “No offense, but I couldn’t give less of a fuck if you’re here.  He’s the father, he should know.  He’ll want to be there.”
“Marinette…” he took off his mask and looked to her with soft eyes.  “I’m here.”
Marinette stared in awe at him for a few seconds.  “Dick…” She touched his face carefully, reverently, like she didn’t believe it.  
“It’s me, Mari,” he said again, more gently this time, more vulnerable.  He reached out to touch her again, this time she let him.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.  This is what I didn’t tell you before.”
She shook her head blankly.  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.
“What?” Dick asked, quirking his head to the side.  He expected a lot of different reactions to his reveal.  That was not one of them.  He was fully prepared for anger, hoping for forgiveness, but expected annoyance.
She looked up at the ceiling with an annoyed glare.  “Very fucking funny.”  Suddenly she gripped his hand hard and let out a pained whine.  “Of course I’d end up with a hero.”  She looked back up at him as they slowly made their way down the stairs.  She suddenly stopped and stood rigidly straight.  “Oh my God, I was wearing a Nightwing shirt and you were wearing a ladybug shirt when we met.” She groaned and bent over.  “How did I miss that!”
“It’s okay, just breathe through it,” Nightwing encouraged her, rubbing reassuring circles on her back.
“That was a groan of frustration not pain.  I should have called that, the cosmic joke that my life is.”  She turned to face him with a narrow-eyed glare.  “But if you say that to me when I do have a contraction, I’ll make you understand the pain making me make that sound.”  She turned forward again and started making her way slowly down the stairs.  “Just breathe through it,” she mocked.
Nightwing grimaced.  “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  “That’s what the videos said to say.  To help breathe through the contractions.  Relaxing your muscles as much as possible and focusing on breathing instead, makes the pain seem less intense.”
“What kind of an idiot came up with that idea?  Guarantee it was a man.  Silly women, just breathe,” she continued in a mocking tone.  “I’ll perform an appendectomy on him and see how just breathing helps him with the pain,” she grunted as she waddled down the stairs.
She paused mid stride and groaned in pain again.  Nightwing was at her side in an instant, holding her hand and rubbing the small of her back and applying pressure to try to offset the contractions. As soon as the contraction passed, Marinette watched him analytically.  He was suddenly very close to her, his face mere centimeters from hers as he encouraged her.  She quirked her lips to the side, trying to figure out how she felt.  
Dick was here.  He was here! He had come to rescue her.  And likely everything he had done, everything he had lied about, was related to his secret identity.  But it was more than that, wasn’t it?  It was more than just the secret.  She was keeping secrets from him, secrets she wasn’t ready to share until or unless she trusted him and she didn’t, not anymore.  She narrowed her eyes at him again.  “This is what you couldn’t tell me?  This is what you lied to me about?” she asked confused.  “You knew about my history with Chat and still thought I wouldn’t understand this?”
“I was tracking down a plot by the Court of Owls.  When the talon said they had to change plans due to their latest failure, my team was the one that caused that.  That was where I was going when we had that fight,” he answered quietly.
“And you thought, what?  I wouldn’t understand?  I’d freak out?  Demand you leave it to be with me?” she demanded indignantly.
“I thought…” he hedged, his voice uncertain.  “I thought I needed to protect you and if you knew you’d stop me. But I needed to do it.  I needed to know I had protected you and our family.”
She gripped his hand and squeezed it, letting out a scream of pain and breathing heavily.  “You absolute bastard.”
“Yeah, deserved,” he looked away guiltily.
“Oh, thank you for your permission,” she bit out harshly.  “You’re damn right it’s deserved.  Do you know how miserable I was when I realized you had lied to me? How confused I was?  How lost I was?  And you wouldn’t even try to give any kind of an explanation.  Nothing!  I questioned everything.  I thought you and your friends were doing something illegal.  And then I was wrestling with myself because that didn’t seem right at all, but if that wasn’t it, I couldn’t figure out why you would hide it.  So then I thought maybe you were getting forced into something you didn’t want to do, but then your family seemed to know what was going on so I thought that was unlikely.  I thought you didn’t care about me.” She shook her head to try to calm her anger and returned to his words.  “What was I to you then?  An inconvenience you had to handle while you ran away to do your macho man business?”
“No! No, Marinette.  I… was stupid and I was so caught up in protecting you and our babies, I… I’m sorry,” he pled.
“You certainly are.”  She shook her head and opened her mouth to continue berating him but let out another scream instead.  
“Those are really close together.”  He took note of the time to start calculating the time between contractions and made a mental calculation of how much longer it should take Alfred to get there.  “Agent A should be here in just a few minutes,” Nightwing assured her.
“Agent A?”
“Alfred,” he elucidated.
“Of course,” she sighed with a nod.  Her eyes suddenly opened wide.  “Oh God, it’s your whole family isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he grimaced at her tone.
She shook her head again.  “Figures.” She glared up at the sky again.  “A normal life.  That’s all I asked for.  As normal as possible.  But noooooo. Can’t let even one thing be normal.  Can’t get a freaking break, because Destiny is a petty, mean bitch and has to get their sticky, meddling fingers into everything,” she muttered bitterly.  She looked over to Dick with pursed lips and sighed. “Better put on your mask again unless you’re ready to let all Gotham know your identity.”
Dick’s eyes got wide again.  “Oh Right!” He pulled the domino mask out of his pocket and affixed it again before pushing open the door to the sidewalk and the waiting car.
Tags:
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crackinwise · 3 years
Text
This is a silly idea that wouldn't leave my head about Mondo being hesitant and Taka knowing exactly what he's about. Also I apologize to Leon.
The mixing of classes 77 & 78 in the rec room on a weekend should have been a chaotic party, but there was a certain Moral Compass in attendance who'd already vetoed many of the more rowdy ideas put forth.
The current spectacle was Nekomaru arm-wrestling Sakura. The intense screaming from the two made it sound more exciting than it was: they'd been locked in the same position for like five minutes now. At least Hina was happy cheering on Sakura's straining bicep.
Bored with it, Leon moved his eyes away from the stalemate to narrow them instead at Kiyotaka, who was being felt-up as he watched the match. Okay, not felt-up. That'd actually be fun. No, Mondo just had his hand on the hall monitor's upper back, thumb moving in slow circles.
Watching the couple in public was also a disappointment, in Leon's opinion. They'd been officially together a few months and their rules for "PDA" seemed arbitrary to anyone observing. They could look at each other in ways that'd make the most romantic person gag, but wouldn't even hold hands. It appeared Mondo was only allowed to touch Taka from the shoulder-blades up. Or that's all he had the guts to do, maybe.
Boring.
'Well,' Leon thought, 'I can at least work with this.' Messing with Mondo just enough to be entertained, but not enough to be killed, was a tightrope act. Say something the biker deemed a personal attack and he's a goner, but phrasing it as a challenge or dare could usually get Mondo to go along with anything. 'I just need the one carrying the braincell to leave.'
"Hey, Ishimaru!" Leon whispered to Kiyotaka. "I think I saw Souda spiking girls' drinks."
"WHAT!" Kiyotaka immediately left to find and possibly stomp the mechanic to death. Hopefully Ultimate Nurse Mikan was around.
"Ba--Taka?" Mondo called, confused at the sudden departure.
Leon swooped in and took his arm to pull him away from the main crowd a bit. "Mondo, buddy, want to have some fun?"
His buddy suspiciously glared down at him and answered, "Depends. What's yer idea of fun?"
Leon smiled, knowing the other's curiosity was a great sign for this plan working. "I noticed your wandering hands don't wander very far," he quickly waved his arms and continued when Mondo started puffing up to yell at him, "SO I wanna help you get them to second base tonight!"
Mondo deflated and stared.
"Y-Y'know, it's a baseball metaphor because I'm-"
"I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK SECOND BASE MEANS!" Several students turned to them, unimpressed, prompting Mondo to lower his voice again. "The hell are ya gettin at?"
"Well, either you got shy hands or Taka has you whipped. Which is it?"
"Is yer idea of fun gettin ripped in half, dude?"
"Er, let me start over," Leon back-pedaled quickly. He could do this. "What's stopping you from touching Taka more than a nervous twelve-year-old on the first date?" Shit. "Shit, wait, don't hit me! I'm just curious why you've been together so long and I've never seen your hands reach the promised land!"
The other boy paused with right arm still raised in mid-punch. "Wha?"
"By 'promised land' I mean his butt." Leon took a step backwards in case he had to dodge.
Something about that made Mondo briefly look more insecure, "One: I ain't lookin to get dumped. I still dunno how handsy he'll let me get."
Then his attack-dog mode returned and he brought his raised arm to his chest to crack his knuckles. "And two: if you've been lookin at Taka's ass, I'mma tie ya up in front of the fuckin ball machine an' leave ya there."
"What? No! Gross!" Leon had been, but it was like admiring a work of art, and also not the point. "I just want my pals happy! Trust me, every time you touch his back, go lower than before. You can watch his signals or whatever, but if you go slow it'll be fine!"
Leon was proud he sounded so supportive. It was a complete lie, of course. Leon was 99.9% sure the second Mondo passed the belt line, Kiyotaka would loudly explode at his boyfriend, making the guy explode right back, and ensuring Leon finally had his entertainment for tonight.
Leon just had to make sure he won his little Mondo game first, "You should at least try before he finds someone else man enough to grab dat a-"
"YA LITTLE SHIT!"
Whoops, Leon found himself suspended off the ground by his shirt. That's going to stretch. He shouldn't have gone the toxic masculinity route. But Mondo exhaled through his nose and set him back down when he saw Kiyotaka marching back over to them. 'Whipped.'
"Souda swore his innocence, but I've made all the ladies get new drinks to be safe! And Hiro is oddly asking everyone if they need ice but it's not for the drinks...?" Kiyotaka's expression changed from bemused to wary. "Uh, was there a problem here, Mondo?"
"Nah, y'know how Leon is," Mondo's voice was disgustingly soft all of a sudden. "C'mon, I think I see Chi playing a game."
As they walked away, Leon caught Mondo rest his hand on Taka's neck then slide down to mid-back without issue. Smirking, Leon adjusted his now loose shirt collar and followed at a distance.
An hour. A whole damn hour passed watching Mondo slowly achieve touching Kiyotaka's hip! Leon wanted to scream. He didn't mean go that slow! And Taka acted like he didn't notice or care either. Leon wished Souda really was spiking drinks so he could down three.
Sayaka appeared at Leon's side, startling the redhead. "You're disappointed in him," she stated.
"Of course I'm disappointed! Dude's a gang leader and he acts like the Ultimate Gentleman!" Wait. "Wait, what do you mean? How do you...?"
"Psychi~c," she sing-songed innocently before she pointed to the couple Leon had been stalking. When Leon looked over, Kiyotaka's hand reached back to purposefully guide Mondo's hand from his hip down the short distance to the swell of his behind, and kept it there.
What? The fuck? Happened? He'd been expecting jumping, yelling, possibly some face-slapping to get on video, but definitely wasn't expecting Taka to push Mondo to the goal line. Mondo himself looked dumbstruck.
'Sonuvabitch,' Leon thought. Good for them and all but what was he supposed to do, not tease them? He sauntered up behind the two and stage-whispered, "Oi! Ass-grabbing is not welcome in a school environment!"
They yelped and jumped apart, then just as quickly whirled on him. Mondo's red face especially said Leon was in danger, but it was Kiyotaka who spoke.
"We're outside of school hours, in the rec room among friends! If public displays of affection made you uncomfortable, you could have asked instead of disturbing your peers with vulgar mockery." His arms were crossed and his eyes appeared almost aflame. He was not happy being interrupted.
"Ha," Leon pointed at the proud model student, "It was just funny catching the school mascot initiate groping. You been wanting that a while?"
There was a low growl coming from the direction of Mondo now.
Sayaka grabbed Leon's shoulder and murmured a warning, "Kuwata, you should probably let it go."
He ignored her.
Kiyotaka's eyebrows furrowed as if ready to pounce and maul Leon's face. "It was not groping. Why is it surprising I'd want my partner to touch me?"
"Babe," Mondo had stopped growling at Leon to put all his attention on his boyfriend, "it was really ok? Ya knew what I was tryin t'do all night?"
"Of course," Taka said warmly. "You were only holding me, and I'm yours, so obviously you can-"
"M-MINE?!" Mondo honest-to-god squeaked.
Leon reacted just as loudly, "Did I just hear Taka imply his ass belongs to Mondo? Kiyotaka?? Ishimaru?!"
Whoops, he was being lifted again. Only this time Mondo brought him all the way to the door and literally threw him out.
"Owww. So much for my fun."
Sayaka sighed as she walked out to Leon and handed him something. "You can thank Hiro for the ice."
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raleighcarrera · 3 years
Text
outpoint
foreign affairs | m!blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)
a cut scene from chapter 4; after dionne’s party, blaine and kennedy work on their project a little bit and then not at all.
catch up: knockout (E) / on the ropes (T)
tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @choicesarehard ; @natesewell ; @flyawayboo ; @withbeautyandrage ; @blainehellyes
~3.3k words | T
it would be easier not to be seen together if not for the fact that they’re no where near done with their project. in fact, they’ve barely even started.
there’s also the added complication of their less-than-platonic relationship; they’re far from just classmates, or even friends. 
everything feels like it’s gotten out of control so quickly.
but he hadn’t planned for this. he’d agreed to go to vancross because it was that or the campaign trail; when he’d first arrived on campus, blaine had expected to coast through his classes, party until he forgot how pissed off at his parents he was and wait out the boring political drama unfolding back home with a few more years of school.
he hadn’t expected her. 
to their credit, his father’s advisors had done their best to warn him. still, he’d slept through so many briefings before packing up and heading out that he lost count -- going to vancross was supposed to be a reprieve from being blaine hayes, a chance to get out from under his parents’ noses. the first daughter of rutherland was a nonissue, hardly part of the equation at all.
...then he’d met her, and she’d called him a jackass with that cute little challenging sparkle in her eyes, and a part of him that had long since been quiet slowly stirred awake again.
and now he’s here: playing it so cool that kennedy is clearly starting to doubt whether he even likes her at all, fidgety and tense where she’s doing her very best to pretend to be engrossed in her textbook, sitting right beside him on the couch in her suite. 
her bodyguard is definitely glaring at him, too. 
blaine looks away, clearing his throat and nudging kennedy with his shoulder. “hey,” he murmurs, voice purposefully low, “i think i found something.”
it’s only when she blinks at him curiously that he realizes he has absolutely nothing at all to offer her and only wanted an excuse to break the silence between them. he points to a random passage in the book in his lap. “we can use this for our argument.”
kennedy looks down at the section he’s indicated and then stares back at him as though he’s one of the dumbest people she’s ever had the displeasure of talking to. rather than wilt under the disappointment in her eyes, he only smiles charmingly back at her, until she heaves a sigh and says, “maybe you should just work on our citations.” 
god, no. anything but that. panicked, he grabs for the book she’s holding before she can retreat silently into its pages, burying her nose in the spine and refusing to look at him like she has been for the last hour. “look,” he starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. the sudden spike of nervousness that flares up within him is... new, to say the least. he needs a plan. “can we talk privately for a minute?”
she looks past him, quirking an eyebrow at her bodyguard. there’s a beat or two of silent communication between them that makes him feel uneasy and a sharp twist of her mouth before he hears the front door open and shut, and then they’re alone.
blaine exhales, jumping to his feet. “okay -- come on.” 
he crosses the room without waiting for a response from her, prying open one of the windows in her kitchen. his head leans out to judge the distance to the cobblestones beneath them; it’ll be a bit of a jump, but he’s had worse. when he looks back at kennedy, she’s still blinking at him owlishly. “uh, what are you doing?”
“we’re ditching your bodyguard,” he grins, more confidently than he feels. it is kind of funny how she’s looking at him, like he just suggested a bank heist. “come on. he’ll be back any second.”
kennedy glances at the front door, then rushes over to meet him at the window. “but -- why -- we’re supposed to be working on our project.”
he arches his eyebrows at her, unimpressed. “and we’re obviously not making any headway. plus, i can tell you’re distracted, and since i’m pretty sure that’s my fault... i want to fix it.” well, those are words he’s almost definitely never said to anyone before. to cover up his own surprise at himself, and how uncomfortably true they ring, he widens his grin and asks, “don’t you trust me?”
as soon as she leans around him to peer down at the length of the drop, he knows he’s won. “not enough to go first.”
blaine winks at her before deciding to hell with it, leaning out the window and jumping down to the ground, wincing when his shoes slam against the pavement. fuck. that probably wasn’t worth a shot at impressing her.
though it is worth being in the perfect position to catch her, when she slips from the windowsill and straight into his arms, windswept and adorable. her trip down had been clumsy and imprecise, with all the grace of someone who had probably never snuck out of anywhere before. 
before he can stop himself, he lifts a hand to her face to brush her hair back behind her ear. she smiles at him, as his fingertips graze her temple, and for a moment it’s like they both forget who and where they are.
it’s terrifying. 
he sets kennedy down on her feet as quickly as he can, reaching for her wrist to tug her through the courtyard. “come on.”
“where are we going?” she asks, stumbling to catch up with him, “and -- slow down, jesus. i can’t run in these shoes. no one’s chasing us, anyway.”
right. he knows that. he’s done this plenty of times -- evaded his own security detail so frequently he could probably do it in his sleep. he’s snuck plenty of pretty girls around behind guards, including this pretty girl just a few days ago. there’s no reason he should be off his game now.
blaine shakes his head at himself and then slows to a stop, finally dropping kennedy’s wrist back to her side. “well, you can’t ever be too sure,” he muses, pleased to find that they’re definitively alone, no other students or faculty or wayward paparazzi following behind them. “but you’re off the grid, now. how’s it feel?”
kennedy pauses, then unleashes a blinding grin that’s a little bit dazzling. “i see why you do this all the time.”
he hums his agreement, trying not to stare at her smile. “we’re not even at our final destination yet.”
she makes an interested noise that he tries not to find sexy and fails. no one ever said he didn’t have a one-track mind. “where are we going?”
“you’ll see,” blaine promises, his own smirk sharpening as soon as they reach the gate and his hands find it unlocked. some state-of-the-art security.
kennedy falters beside him as he holds the wrought-iron out wide for her. “we didn’t fill out any paperwork.”
that’s true. but it would’ve been impossible to ask for permission when the plan was still only half-baked in his mind, sprung into being just twenty minutes ago. “we’ll be back before anyone notices,” he assures her, “except maybe your shadow.”
kennedy rolls her eyes, but his teasing does the trick. she saunters out of the gate with him without a glance back. “tatum’s just doing his job.”
“right,” blaine scoffs, “that’s all he’s doing.” 
there’s a pause that feels just a touch too long before kennedy carefully asks, “what do you mean?” 
“i mean --” he adopts the most casual tone of voice he can muster. it still feels like not enough, making him instantly regret dancing around this topic of conversation. “it just seems like there’s something else going on between you two.”
yep. kennedy smirks wide, as obviously delighted as any one person can look. he should’ve seen that coming. “is that so?”
“don’t be smug,” he mutters, hunching his shoulders in when a group of random strangers walk past them on the sidewalk. 
“no, i’m going to,” kennedy argues, looking unfairly cute as she does the same, mimicking his movements. god, he hates her. “tell me, what do you think is going on between us?”
“only if you tell me why you’ve been so quiet,” he fires back, leading them off down a side street. “you’ve been weird ever since we got back from pavadena.”
“i have not,” kennedy insists immediately, though when he looks her way again while they wait for the light to change so they can cross the street he sees she’s biting down anxiously on her bottom lip. “i’m not even supposed to be seen with you.”
“i know.” he’s not, either. yet here they both are, in broad daylight together, in the middle of town. “so?”
“so, i’m risking a lot, and it’s like, for what? you didn’t even -- you’ve barely spoken to me, too.” she looks embarrassed by the admission, avoiding his gaze while she stares at the sidewalk instead. “when other people are around, you act like... it’s nothing. me and you.”
blaine frowns. it’s unexpected, how hurtful it is to hear her say that in the soft tone of voice she’s using, uncertain and uncomfortable. she shouldn’t sound like that. “isn’t that what you want?”
she sighs, hesitating for a moment before opening her mouth again. “i --” kennedy cuts off abruptly, leaning to the side to peer around his shoulder. with a sheepish shrug, he realizes they’ve reached their destination, and that kennedy’s stopped talking because of the music playing, trying its best to lure them across the street and into the carnival. “oh my god,” she laughs, her whole face transforming from shy to excited so quickly it makes his head spin, “how did you know this was here?”
her reaction is worth any potential disaster waiting for them back on campus. it might even be worth the ass kicking that’s definitely heading his way from that surly bodyguard of hers, too. “doesn’t matter. come on.”
they jog across the street with their heads down, though as soon as they’re actually on the fairgrounds he realizes there’s no need to look over their shoulders; it’s the middle of the day and the carnival is pretty much empty, a wayward toddler being chased by an au pair the only other sign of life on the premises besides a few bored looking workers hanging out of their booths. 
“god, i haven’t been to something like this in ages,” kennedy gushes, already dragging him over to a big table marked tickets. “this is amazing.”
the thing is -- he knows exactly what she means. growing up like they did, being who they are, it’s impossible to do anything normal. he can’t remember the last time he had an afternoon out that was as mundane as this one, either. even date night with his last girlfriend had become a production; nothing was ever just dinner and a movie.
instead of acknowledging her gratitude, he shoves her out of the way with his shoulder and opens his wallet for the most tickets the teenager behind the counter will give him. kennedy completely ignores him while he pays, twisted around to look out over the fairgrounds, cataloging every offering with wide, overeager eyes. somehow she makes this traveling carnival that’s absolutely seen better days feel like a luxury destination, and as he passes the tickets over to her blaine finds that his smile is tough to dampen, despite his best efforts to keep his expression contained.
they burn through a good chunk of the tickets throwing baseballs at milk bottles -- mostly because kennedy insists she can knock down more than he can, and that simply won’t do. he refuses to stop until he’s won her the biggest prize they have available, an obnoxiously pink stuffed elephant with giant, floppy ears. 
fortunately, there’s still enough tickets left for the fun house and the photo booth and every other stupid thing she wants to do that he pretends to hate but doesn’t, until eventually the sun’s starting to set and he knows their afternoon out is coming to an end. 
“we should head back,” blaine suggests regretfully, watching her pick her way through the giant cotton candy he probably shouldn’t have bought for her with a mix of disgust and pride. “we’ve been gone awhile.”
“have we?” kennedy blinks, as though she’s only now noticing how late it’s gotten. “ugh. one more ride -- i have to finish this.”
“you don’t,” he remarks with amusement, noting the tips of her dyed-blue fingers even as they walk off indulgently towards the only ride they’ve yet to approach. “you can just throw it out.”
“that’s quitter’s talk,” she says through a mouthful of melting sugar, chewing with her cheeks bulged out while blaine uses the last of their tickets to get them onto the ferris wheel, which is completely abandoned except for the two of them, as far as he can tell. 
once the door is shut and they take off it’s the most alone they’ve been in awhile. the last time they were this secluded was in the kitchen in pavadena, when he’d licked frosting off her fingers and she’d looked at him like maybe she wanted him to kiss her, too -- like maybe she wanted even more than that.
sort of like how she’s looking at him now, doe eyes wide and nervous, the cogs of her mind very clearly turning into overdrive behind them.
it seems so obvious, now, staring at her in the cart. of course she’d wanted him to kiss her on dionne’s birthday. she’d dressed up, searching for a sincere compliment that she hadn’t gotten and invited him to dance in the hopes that if she made the first move he’d make the finishing one, like they’d done before. and he hadn’t even realized it.
so -- he probably is as stupid as everyone thinks he is. 
the ferris wheel creaks around them as they slowly ascend to the top, old machinery groaning while they climb higher and higher. it feels like it takes forever for him to sort his thoughts into a sentence that’s actually passable, but for once, he wants to be careful about what he says. “i didn’t mean to make you think i don’t care.”
he hears her inhale. kennedy flicks her gaze out at the view behind him, then bravely looks back at his face. “no?”
“no,” he confirms, shrugging helplessly again. “this is new to me.” even this conversation is beyond him.
but judging by the look on her face, he’s yet to colossally fuck up. that’s good. “me, too,” she admits, leaning in a little closer across the metal bench they’re both sitting on. “it’d be weird even if we weren’t... us.”
except that who they are has nothing to do with why this is so strange for him. kennedy could be from antartica, and he’d still be the unlucky bastard who finally met someone he thinks understands him and has botched talking to her about it at every opportunity. 
well, there’s one thing he knows he can still execute perfectly. as the ferris wheel glides to a stop for them to take in the view, the setting sun streaming in picturesquely through the little window in the cart, he leans in and kisses her, hands fanning out low over the small of her back.
kennedy tastes like cotton candy and her hands are sticky when they cup his face -- sticky like they would have been if he’d seen the signs for what they were and kissed her in pavadena like he’d wanted to, if he’d taken advantage of the rare moment alone in the way he was now, crowding her back into the corner of the cart with a grip that he knows is probably too tight.
but she kisses him back just as urgently as he’s kissing her, dragging him in closer and biting at his mouth. she’s kissing him like she’s been thinking about this, too -- like she’s found it even a fraction as all-consuming as he has, late at night when he can’t get to sleep and he’s staring at his ceiling cursing the absurdity of it all.
the moment is gone in the blink of an eye. the ferris wheel lurches back into motion with a sound that would be alarming if he wasn’t so distracted, the cart swaying in the wind as they slowly come down the other side of the circle.
she pulls away despite blaine’s best efforts to keep her in his personal space, his hands still firm on her hips. “blaine,” she murmurs, so prettily he actually has to shut his eyes -- just for a second -- just to catch his breath -- 
light spills into the cart as the door is wrenched open. they’re on the ground again, and there’s a line of kids waiting for their turn on the ride. going up had felt like forever, but the descent was done before he could even figure out what he wanted to say. 
they make their way back to the street silently. blaine is so lost in thought it takes him a minute to realize kennedy is on the phone, wincing and rushing to promise the world to whoever she’s talking to -- that they’d only run out for a little, that she was perfectly safe, that she’d be back soon. tatum, she mouths at him as soon as he catches her eye, though as she talks he finds it hard to do anything but stare at the blue corners of her mouth, where she probably still tastes like cloyingly sweet artificial sugar.
he half expects an ambush to be waiting for them at the vancross gates, but it’s quiet when they head back across the quad. after a few steps in the direction of kennedy’s dorm, blaine’s horrified to find that he’s dragging his feet, reluctant to let what was probably one of the better days of his adult life come to an end.
this is going to be a problem.
they stop on the side of her building, out of sight from any students who may be using the main entrance. kennedy clears her throat, then announces, “well... this was fun. consider me -- fixed. i think i’ll be able to get my head in the game, now.”
he should make a joke. she’s lobbed up the spike perfectly, all he has to do is hit it. he’s done it a thousand times before -- it should be as easy as breathing.
instead, he finds himself staring at her. blaine ignores what she’s said. “it’s not nothing.”
kennedy blinks. “huh?”
well -- saying it once was one thing. repeating it is something else entirely. he shoves his hands deep into his pockets, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. “you. this. it’s not nothing... to me.”
she’s smiled at him a lot since they’ve met, in pretty much every way imaginable: exasperated, fond, excited, alluring. none of them compare to the way she’s looking at him now, her whole face lit up with joy.
the kiss she presses to his cheek is soft, yet still so heavy. there’s a promise of something that makes him feel off-kilter weighted beneath it, and his stomach unknots as he realizes he’s said the right thing. “me either. goodnight, blaine.”
she disappears around the corner, pink elephant tucked up under her arm, half-finished bag of cotton candy dangling from her free hand. he watches her go, shaking his head at himself again and running his fingers through his hair once she’s out of sight.
ideally she’d be out of his mind, now, too, but he’s starting to realize there’s just about nothing that can make that happen and, if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t really want it, anyway.
you just went on a date, chirps an annoying little voice in the back of his mind. 
huh.
so he did.
for the first time since he came to this stupid school, blaine whistles on the way back to his room.
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arcanadreams · 3 years
Text
y’all know that dialogue from the beginning of episode 4 where you talk to Mathieu? the one where you can ask if he wants to reenact Titanic with you? yeah well i’m still salty we didn’t actually get to do that so i’m fixing it with some added self-indulgent headcanons for good measure (in second person format of course because i exclusively write and read x reader fic LMAO) headcanons will be under the cut!!
-----
“Want to come to the front of the ship with me and yell ‘I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD!’?” Mathieu merely blinked in response to your suggestion, arching an eyebrow at you. 
“...No? Why would I do that?” You were honestly surprised at how unenthused with the idea he was. The only other earthling in the entirety of El and didn’t event want to reenact Titanic with you! The audacity!
“Because it’s fun! Why else?” Mathieu clearly disagreed with your reasoning, narrowing his eyes at you skeptically. “Fine, be that way. I’m going to go bask in Leonardo DiCaprio’s glory all by myself, and I’m going to have a great time.” With that, you left the brunette standing on the ship’s deck. You made your way to the bow. Standing at the edge, you sucked in a deep breath of air, sticking your arms out.
“I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD!!”
Mathieu:
Still as unimpressed as when you proposed the idea, to be honest. But he respects that you have the gumption to go through with it.
You glance behind you when you’re done and stick your tongue out at him before smiling triumphantly.
It’s contagious, he’ll admit...he can’t help but smile back. Maybe it would’ve been fun to join in, if only to see that smile up close...
And the way the wind is blowing through your hair is quite pretty, too...
It’s only when you wink at him that he realizes he’s been caught staring.
His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he looks away, running a hand through his hair in that way he always does. This time, though, there is a noticeable sheepishness in the gesture that isn’t usually present.
Later you tease him about it, saying he should’ve thrown his ego away and joined you if he was just going to watch all the fun you were having and shoot envious eyes from the sidelines the whole time!
Yeah...that’s definitely why he was staring...cough...
Lance:
Literally what in the name of fuck are you doing? - his inner monologue
AT FIRST
He’s an observant man; he looks around for context. Honestly, the way Mathieu is rolling his eyes and Koori is laughing at the scene makes him think you lost a bet of some sort and were purposefully embarrassing yourself.
But before he can think any more on the matter, you turn around with this brilliant smile on your face.
(heart eyes.jpg) It’s such a far cry from the sides of you he has seen up until now; he’s only ever seen you distressed or enraged...both of which were due to his actions and presence.
Seeing the crinkle of your eyes when you’re genuinely happy is new and, dare he say it...intriguing. Beautiful, even.
But then the sun hits your hair just right and you almost have a halo around you and suddenly he remember who he is looking at: the savior of El, the hero who saved the entire world...from him. And he remembers he has no right to be looking at you like this, to be peering in on your moment of joy. So he looks back out over the horizon instead.
Leiftan:
Ah, there’s the Y/N he knows. Always there to bring levity to his aching heart.
...Even if he has no idea what the fuck you’re doing.
Just be careful, please!! Don’t topple over the edge of the ship!! He’s a worrywart, be patient with him.
If he weren’t in self-imposed ‘all things to do with Y/N’ exile, he’d be heading right over to ask just what the hell you were doing.
But then the wind rustles your hair and you turn around, resting your elbows on the railing, and oh...the sunlight creates a halo around your head as you close your eyes, clearly enjoying the salty sea air.
Mans about to have a heart attack! You look just as stunning as you did the day he lost you (and himself but he doesn’t really care about that part) to the crystal.
He can literally feel your angelic aura singing, calling out to him in that moment, but he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes it off. He has sworn off anything of the sort. No matter how mesmerizing you are, he can’t give in...(yet)
Nevra:
“Good to know you’re taking this mission seriously, Y/N.”
We’ve got a Debbie Downer on our hands, folks! Ugh! (Just say, “You weren’t as much of a party pooper before I died for seven years.” That’ll shut him up!)
“I’ll have you know I am taking this perfectly seriously,” you turn your body around to face him, and he resists the urge to smile at the grin you meet his gaze with. “In fact, what I just did is a tradition on Earth for sailors. It promotes safe travels.”
“Is that so?” As you nod assuredly, the vampire rolls his eyes. He knows you’re bluffing...but he’ll still probably ask Mathieu about it later. When you’re out of earshot, of course.
“I learned from the best that having a little fun on missions never hurt anyone,” you say, thinking back to your first few missions with him, back before the crystal. Back when he was...different.
“And I learned that it can kill,” argumentative as always, he was...you sighed. Seven years in a coma and your favorite mischief buddy had shoved a stick up his ass while you were gone! Damn.
He noticed the disappointment in your eyes, then, as the sun vanished behind a cloud. Shit. He didn’t...he never meant...ugh. “...If the journey to Genkaku goes well, I suppose your sailor’s tradition will be proven to work.” He was happy to see your face light up the slightest bit at his peace offering. 
“It’s gonna be smooth sailing from here on out, and I’m gonna rub it in your face after.” “I look forward to it,” despite himself, his lips tilted upwards the slightest bit. He felt lighter, much more ready to face the mission ahead...as well as your teasing if you were right about the trip in the end.
Koori (because I’m gay and I love her):
Stands next to Mathieu and laughs. Like a lot. What can she say? What you’re doing is already funny enough, but the fact it’s making Mathieu facepalm is just the perfect cherry on top!
She loves when you get mischievous like this. She happily approaches you to ask what you’re doing.
“I’m reenacting a human movie by myself since Mathieu is too much of a coward to join me.” (There’s a clear “Hey!” in the background but the two of you mutually elect to ignore it.)
“Is this the same movie with the Let It Go song Mathieu likes to sing?” She asks, and you laugh. “No, but is it probably just as famous. It’s about a huge cruise ship that sank.”
“Don’t tell me you just set us up to get swallowed by the ocean!” Her ears pressed down to her head as she joked with you. She watched you laugh, the sun shining off your hair and creating a slight halo effect. It kind of reminded her of when she was able to create that illusion of your angel powers for you, only much, much prettier...
She asks for you to tell her all about the Titanic “so we can avoid the same fate,” but in reality she just wants to stare at you in this lighting, in this moment, for longer. 
Soon enough the two of you are sat on the stairs to the bow while you blabber on the whole story. She watches the way your eyes light up as you recount the dramatic bits and smiles. You’re so cute. You’ll make this rough journey easier on her, she’s sure of it.
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prompt-master · 3 years
Text
THIS BITCH FUCKING DYING XD XD X'D
This is a lighthearted comedy fic, but I’m going to give a warning for mention/talks of suicide and death.
Now this may be a shocking sentiment to share; but being in a killing game fucking sucked, even if you were Momota Kaito. As ludicrous as that statement appears, heroes had a tough time in tragedy too. Kaito found himself feeling disappointed more often than he would like at the sight of his companions distrusting each other. How were they supposed to work together and escape if people were “scared” that they would be “murdered”?! Kaito believed in trust to the bitter end and he would see that philosophy through. To point the finger at others and accuse them of murder is simply what the mastermind wanted him to do, and if Kaito was anything he was not a loser.
But that’s part of what made his sidekick so incredible! No hero was complete without his supporting role! Of course, Shuichi was much more than a supporting role. In many ways he was the protagonist of his own world (Kaito is still the hero of this story, make no mistake). Even though Shuichi relied on the motivation of others to see himself through, he was probably one of the most capable men he’d ever met. His intinution and detective skills were essential to each trial when his thoughts weren’t fogged up by mental recoil. And despite his reclusive demeanor, he was a good friend to have that everyone wanted the best for. Shuichi was Kaito’s sidekick and it showed! For his sidekick had to stand on his own as one of the best!
...Well, maybe sometimes Shuichi didn’t have a leg to stand on because he didn’t look so dependable laying face-down on the ground. 
“Shuichi! Are you- what are you doing?” 
Shuichi was down on the ground in front of his Ultimate Lab with his foot stuck propping the door open. He didn’t lift his head up when Kaito called out his name, instead opting for a string of gibberish and raising one hand off the ground. 
“No, seriously. What are you doing?” Kaito propped the dizzy detective up against the wall, catching him as he nearly swayed back down to the floor in response. Kaito took note of his flushed face and unfocused demeanor. There wasn’t...booze in this killing game right? That would suck. A killing game and booze wouldn’t mix well. Although some may disagree and say a pint is just the pick me up after watching one of your friends be slaughtered.
“M-Momota-kun…” it seemed Shuichi was gathering his bearings again. He braced himself against Kaito by gripping his sleeves. 
“Alright, c’mon Shuichi. Let’s get you to the others. I’m sure they can help us out somehow!”
“Ah but...first things first…” Shuichi looked up at Kaito with a determined resolve in his eyes typically reserved for class trials. 
“If I die, it’s a suicide.”
Huh?
Huh?
HUH?!
WHAT?!
“Shuichi?!” Kaito shook Shuichi by the shoulders until he looked ready to pass out and keel over for good, “Why would you do that?! You have so much to live for!”
And Shuichi had the damn nerve to look exasperated by the panic, “Ack- Momota-kun please calm down it was an accident!”
“How do you accidentally kill yourself?!”
“Well it happens all the time really but-”
“That’s not reassuring coming from you! Just-” Kaito took a deep breath to steady his frustrations, “why the hell are you dying?”
“It’s- haha, well uhm, it’s a bit of a funny story you see-” Shuichi stopped his ramblings at Kaito’s unimpressed glare, Shuichi sighed and slumped over with a sense of shame and embarrassment, “I was in my lab familiarizing myself with the various poisons in case anyone tried to use one, but ended up dropping a bottle of powder on the floor and inhaling quite a bit.”
“T-that sounds pretty serious…” Kaito mumbled. “How do you treat a toxic inhalant?...How do I help you..? Just say the word and I’ll be there, sidekick!”
Shuichi closed his eyes and rested against the door. After a moment he said “At this rate, people will assume you killed me since you were with me all this time. So, to prove that it was a suicide-”
“Shuichi I asked how to save you not how to solve your murder.”
Shuichi tilted his head with a fog of puzzlement in his eyes, “...but solving murders is what I do?”
“Well don’t do it right now! I’m trying to prevent your death!”
“Hm.” Shuichi seemed to have to rethink his evaluation, but the situation hadn’t changed. “This is a killing game, Momota-kun. I don’t think surviving or saving is on par with the course of action the mastermind planned out.”
“W-well if there’s a poison, there’s an antidote right?”
Shuichi shook his head, “No, there’s probably enough materials to make one, but... I’m not a chemist.”
“Let’s ask Iruma to make one then!”
“She’s not a chemist either.” Not to mention Shuichi didn’t trust any sort of edible concoction Miu put together. He wasn’t sure what she would create, but he did know it would make him want to die even faster.
“Ok then, let’s ask Harumaki!”
“Wh- Momota-kun, Harukawa-san kills people!”
“Yeah, so maybe she knows how to unkill people too! I’m pretty sure she can do basically anything.”
Shuichi, with his head now in his hands, decided that it would be easier to simply go along with Kaito’s antics. His body felt weak and gross and his head was splitting, which was a shame because in all honesty that powder had smelt nice. If only it didn’t leave his lab in need of a quarantine. It could’ve been a good candle scent. Or perhaps Shuichi was just veering into delirium. Dying will do that to you. 
He was definitely veering into delirium because one moment he was staring down at his hands and the next he was being carried by Kaito. The worst part of it all was that it didn’t match his daydreams of being romantically carried bridal style by his crush. Instead he was a heavy sack of dead weight plopped against Kaito’s back trying to keep his nausea down as Kaito descended a set of stairs.
“Wh-what’re you doing?” Shuichi mumbled upon realizing that he couldn’t remember Kaito’s plan. If he had one.
“We’re going to get you help!” Shuichi thought it was a pretty bad idea. It would just make the trial even more confusing and he wouldn’t be able to clarify since corpses don’t make for good witnesses. Even if he wanted to voice that though, he ended up in a nasty coughing fit that left him gasping for air.
“Dammit!” Kaito hissed out, “If only Tojo was still here!”
That Shuichi agreed with. If Kirumi was here she would somehow manage to create a cure even though that was absolutely not in the job description of a maid. Her backstory concerned Shuichi quite a bit.
“There he is!” Kaito yelled out, picking up his pace from a light jog to a full run.
“We’re...w-w’re going to ask him for help...?” Shuichi mumbled, before letting out a loud groan, “no, that’s okay...j-just let me die then.”
“Oi Monokuma!” If it weren’t for the imminent danger that would result from it, Kaito would be throttling Monokuma until something broke. “You have to help Shuichi, dammit! Give him a cure or some shit!”
Monokuma tilted his head, looking up at Kaito with pseudo-innocence, “are you stupid or something?”
“Wh-” Kaito nearly lost his anger in confusion, only for it to come back tenfold, “you have to help him!”
“No I don’t, lol.” Monokuma shrugged, “I think the bastard dropping dead would be great! Honestly any of you mistakes would do, he’s not special or anything.”
“He’s our detective!”
“Yeah, you lot are screwed without him, huh?” Monokuma let out a cackle, curled in on his stomach like Shuichi dying was the highlight of his day. “Sounds so beary hopeless to be without a protag, huh! Man we’ve lost two protags in one show, that’s a new record! Someone write that down, I want a medal!”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about…” Kaito shifted Shuichi higher up on his back, ignoring the mumbles in his ear of what evidence to use in the trial, “but don’t start planning yet! Shuichi isn’t dying on my watch!”
Monokuma nodded, “yeah, you are stupid.”
“Fine then I’m going to Harumaki! She was my first plan anyway since you’re so useless!”
“Useless?” Monokuma’s voice wobbled, his head tilted down like a child being told to apologize for wrong doing, “and after all I’ve done for you too...I don’t have to provide you lot with food and shelter, you know.”
“Ahh shut up! We don’t have time for your weird feelings!” 
The world became another dizzying blur as Kaito ran off yet again. “Don’t worry Shuichi! I’m taking you to Harumaki! She’ll have everything figured out!”
---
“You inhaled a toxic powder from your lab?”
Shuichi nodded.
“And you’ve gotten no treatment this entire time?”
Shuichi nodded.
“How are you not dead already?”
Shuichi shrugged.
Maki sighed and pinched her nose, wondering how the hell these two idiots got themselves into such a mess, “Saihara, I always thought if you were going to die it would be from murder and not from some bullshit like this.”
Which was a fair assumption really. Being the detective among them, the group learned to rely on Shuichi’s deductions to solve the murders. Without him, there would be a lot of chaos that the killer could use to trick everyone. Wait. Why has no one tried to kill Shuichi again? Shuchi couldn’t tell if he was a lucky man or not, but considering he was currently dying on his crush’s back it’s safe to say he leaned towards unlucky.
Maki turned to Kaito, glaring at him in a way that said she wanted to help but the situation sucked to do anything, “what exactly do you want me to do about this?”
“Save him, of course!” “I’m not a doctor. I’m the opposite. I kill people.” 
Shuichi wished desperately that he could say “I told you so”
“Look Harumaki, we can’t just let him die like this! We’re his friends so we have to do whatever we can to help him! Not just for us, but for Akamatsu too! She wanted him to live!”
Harukawa’s steel glare seemed to melt a little at that.
“So we need a plan!” Kaito said, “and the plan is to save Shuichi!”
“That’s not a plan, that’s a goal. And it’s a stupidly impossible goal too.”
“Nothing is impossible!”
Shuichi wondered if he could just close his eyes and die to avoid all the yelling he’s had to endure today. 
Another voice joined the conversation with a loud cry of “what’s impossible!?” It was none other than Iruma Miu, confidently placing herself into the scene when no one asked her to. Kiibo was with her, following at a much slower pace with an expression that screamed second-hand embarrassment. With her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face, she ensured all parties had their eyes on her before speaking again.
“Because this hard-headed freak is right! Nothing is impossible with my beautiful plump brain around! What is it you’re looking for? A new way to pull off a fictional r18 move? I knew you three were depraved, but don’t worry Mama Miu has got it covered-”
“No, you idiot.” Maki cut her off without a drop of sympathy. Shuichi didn’t have any sympathy either though, so really it was just relatable. “Saihara is dying.”
“Eh? What?” Miu’s voice fell into a submissive whimper. She curled in on herself and fiddled her hands together. “That doesn’t sound good…”
“Yes dying is usually not good.”
Kiibo worriedly hovered near Kaito, trying to get a good look at Shuichi, “is he ok?”
“No. Because he is dying.”
Miu seemed to have panic in her eyes, “he can’t die! Not yet anyway! Who killed him huh?! Who’s trying to escape?!”
“Iruma!” Kaito ignored her questions, “you can save him, right?! He was poisoned, and you always say that you can do anything!”
“I-I mean yeah I can but… but I don’t know anything about biocompatibility... I honestly just put things in the body and hope it works…I would need more time...”
“Then what about you Kiibo?! Maybe you can...I don’t know- analyze the poison and come up with a cure!”
“My algorithm doesn’t do that...I could do a Google search if we were given WIFI access though...”
“Dammit does anyone have an idea to save Shuichi?!”
“Oh! Oh!” Miu raised her hand, “I’ve seen people induce vomiting in movies to stop poison! That’ll work, yeah?!”
Maki, realizing that this conversation was going to draw out far longer than to her liking, pulled out a chair and sat in it, “first of all: do not do that. Second of all it was an inhalant. I don’t think that will stop his lungs from shutting down any time soon.”
“I know!” Kiibo turned to Miu with a determined look, “Iruma-san! Repurpose my wiring so that my hands function as a defibrillator!”
“Did you not hear what I just said?” Maki asked.
“Well it might stop Saihara-kun from dying if his heart stopped!”
“There’s nothing we can do.” Maki stressed, “we just have to lay him down, monitor him,, and hope he lives” 
“Harumaki that’s the same as giving up!”
“Hey hey!” No. God dammit. Sure, let’s keep complicating the dialogue. Shuichi was having a very bad day. Could this poison just finish him off already instead of leaving him on death’s doorstep? Fucking rude. Ouma Kokichi, hearing the glorious sounds of frantic arguing, skipped over to the group with a peachy look on his face.
 “What’s wrong with you all? You’re acting like somebody died.” Kokichi did a dramatic gasp, covering his mouth with his hands, “did someone die?! Did someone finally kill Keeboy?!” 
Kiibo stopped debating with Miu to give Kokichi an unimpressed look, “seriously?”
“Nishishi- yeah, I guess that would be too lucky.”
“Can you take something seriously for once in your life?” Maki glared, “because somebody will die if we can’t figure this out. Saihara inhaled a toxic powder and we aren’t sure how much time we have left to save him.”
“Ehh?” Kokichi’s face turned from confusion to worry. He’d clearly thought Maki was messing with him until he saw Shuichi’s half conscious body draped over Kaito looking very much like a victim of poison. Just as quickly as his expression changed it turned into an over exaggerated ploy they’d all seen a million times. His eyes filled with tears, his lip quivered, his nose started to sniffle. With a hiccup in his voice he began to whimper, “one of you guys is trying to kill my Saihara-chan?! I thought you all were preaching about friendship and trust and ending the killing game!”
Kokichi tilted his head back as he fell into a full on sob. A loud childish ear-breaking wail resounded as tears poured from his eyes with practiced ease. “You guys are so awful!” he yelled in between his sobs, “how could you do this?! Saihara-chan can’t die!”
“Would you shut the fuck up, flat ass!’ Miu yelled. 
And just like that Kokichi’s sobs had turned off. A complete 180 from his previous demeanor. It was like he hadn’t cried at all. His eyes weren’t red and puffy, his nose was dry, and his body was relaxed and poised. He stared camly down at his fingernails, examining them as though this situation was nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his day. “I’m serious, you know. I would never joke or lie. Saihara-chan can’t die, this game wouldn’t be the same without him.”
Kaito nearly asked Kokichi what he meant. Did he care about Shuichi? Did he care about their survival? Was he finally coming around? 
“Oi Monokuma!” Kokichi yelled. Monokuma bounced into the scene as though he was on Kokichi’s beck and call. “Hey did you know that Saihara-chan is dying? Like right now? And we’re all just watching that?”
Okay. Maybe he wasn’t starting his redemption arc then. Maybe he’s still the same piece of shit Kokichi.
“Ouma, what are-”
“Of course I know! It’s pretty funny, huh Ouma-kun?”
Kokichi laughed along with Monokuma, as though they were cut from the same tree. But then suddenly he was back to that semi-disappointed demeanor. “Yeah. Saihara-chan is dying. And doesn’t that really suck? This game is going to sooo be terrible without him. In his trial I bet we’re all going to die because these morons can’t think without him. You know that too, don’t you, Monokuma? WIthout Saihara-chan your show is going to be cut off in this most annoying and unentertaining way. Ahhh I can’t believe this is how the game ends. After all that build up too. I don’t think I even want to be a part of this any more honestly. I’d much rather pig breath die.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
 Monokuma seemed taken aback by Kokichi’s analysis. He pondered it for a moment, nervously looking around and imagining all the lovely executions that would go to waste if Shuichi died right now. With a sigh he pulled out a very suspicious bottle from-...actually where did he pull that bottle from? Not important. What was important was that there was finally a cure in front of them, the one they’d been asking for all this time.
“Give him this and the brat should be good as new!” and with that Monokuma popped away.
Kokichi, holding the vial, smiled brightly at the others, “Here you go! Don’t let Saihara-chan die again okay! I don’t care if any of you others do but Saihara-chan is very special m’kay?”
...
“So you mean…I really could have asked Monokuma for a cure?! The bastard was just lying to me!?”
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alittlewhump · 3 years
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Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 3
Masterlist | Previous | Next
Content warnings: None
"Can't you keep up, ghoul boy?"
Morgan leaned heavily against the trunk of a tree, trying to catch his breath. Blaise was over a foot taller than him and much sturdier, clearly accustomed to regular physical activity. Her brisk walking pace was impossible for him to match. Traveling alone, he'd been able to set his own speed. It was considerably slower.
"No. Your legs... are longer," he panted. She grumbled something under her breath and turned away. Of course she wanted to move quickly. People generally wanted to spend as little time as possible around him. "If we slow down," he suggested, "I won't have to keep stopping." She didn't respond. "Or you could just... not go with me."
"Listen," she said sharply, turning to point a finger at his chest, "I earned my place in the Sisterhood, and I take it very seriously. I have to trust in Kashya's decisions, even if I don't agree with them. I'm going to see this through."
"Very well." He wasn't about to waste his breath arguing, not when it was still so elusive. Blaise peered around suspiciously now that she'd turned back the way they came.
"Hey, what happened to that... thing? Your monster."
He'd had to abandon it some time ago in favour of trying to keep up with the rogue. It made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable even though the enemies had been few so far, and she'd picked them off easily from a distance. She was a skilled archer. "Clay golem. It was too slow."
"I thought your kind raised the dead, anyway."
"Skeletons are faster," he said, watching for her reaction, "but most... don't like them."
She looked away, scanning the treeline. "Don't like you either, so does it matter?"
Morgan didn't know how to answer that. He decided to take it as permission. These fields were ripe with choice, layered thick with dead that had never been laid to rest. He selected two nearby specimens and filled their bones with magic, like pouring a little of himself out of a larger cup into a thimble. Blaise jumped back, nocking an arrow, but seemed to realize quickly what was going on. She scrutinized the skeletons, circling them to inspect all sides. They shuffled, restless - between the freshly renewed energy and whatever remained of their original spirits, they wanted to move. They flexed their bony fingers around the hilts of their swords, which were glowing faintly blue. It cost a little extra effort to manifest a weapon, but it was much more convenient than carrying or seeking out extra gear.
"Looks like these guys are battle ready." She gave Morgan a brief taste of the same assessing gaze. "More ready than you, anyway."
"That's the idea." He was not built for fighting. Or speed. Or much of anything physical, when it came down to it. His delicate frame and poor stamina put a damper on that sort of thing. His magical aptitude, such as it was, was his only strength.
"I mean, your sword is on the wrong side."
"What?" Morgan looked down at the scabbard on his hip, not seeing anything amiss. "I'm right-handed."
Blaise sighed, pointing. "Yeah, I figured that's why you've got your shield on the left. Your sword belongs on the left too. It's easier to draw from your opposite hip." She pantomimed drawing a blade from across her body. It did look easier than the way he'd been doing it, with less wasted movement.
"Ah. I see." He set about fixing his gear's arrangement as she watched, unimpressed.
"Do you even know how to use that thing?"
"Sharp end goes in the target," he answered. That approach had been working so far. Most creatures kept their internal organs in more or less the same arrangement, and damaging those was a quick way to win a skirmish. His constructs took care of most of the threats, anyway - he rarely had to engage in combat himself.
"Very funny." Morgan looked at Blaise questioningly. What was funny? "Wait, please tell me you're joking. Oh, for the love of-" Blaise clasped a hand to her forehead, turning away. "Perfect. I'm out here with a greenhorned... kid, and some dead guys. I hope finding this Deckard character is worth it."
"I'm probably older than you, I'm just small." Morgan always had trouble telling how old people were, but it seemed like a fair guess based on her voice and the way she carried herself. "And the skeletons... remember. How to fight. From when they were alive." Watching them was the way he'd learned to handle the sword, over the course of the month or so it had been in his possession.
"They what?"
He held in a sigh. People often didn't like this part either. "Some echo of the spirit remains in the bones after a person dies. It's stronger if they died suddenly, or weren't laid to rest. When I tell them to fight, they... fight. However they used to. Look." He commanded the skeletons to spar with each other and they sprang into action, blades clashing. Blaise watched them thoughtfully.
"Well," she decided after a few moments, "that's not as bad as I expected. Now let's get going, you've had a minute to catch your breath." She didn't wait for a response before setting off with a long, loping stride. Morgan trotted to keep up, maintaining a respectful distance. He felt cautiously optimistic. Grudging acceptance was among the best possible outcomes he'd dared to consider.
They'd had to stop for the night. Tristram was simply too far to reach in a single day, no matter how fast they walked. Few words had passed between them during that day, which suited Morgan quite well. Conversation so often felt like a maze to navigate, and he could rarely figure out the right solution. His golems responded quickly and easily to mental suggestions, not requiring any specific words to perform actions or be dismissed. It was so much simpler with them. The skeletons from earlier waited obediently for their next orders, standing guard at the edge of the camp.
Silence was easy. He'd nodded silently when Blaise declared she was stopping to hunt dinner, observed silently as she dressed and roasted the small rabbit she'd shot. Now he was eating silently from his own supply of dried meat, watching the archer oil and restring her bow. It was captivating, in a small way, watching people do things expertly. The fluidity of her actions, the balanced push and pull of her muscles as she conditioned the wood, the way the firelight cast shifting patches of brighter orange on the coppery tone of her skin.
"What the hell are you smiling at, ghoul boy?" Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. He hadn't realized he'd been smiling. He stopped. The question felt like a trap.
"I was just... admiring you," Morgan ventured. If there had been a correct answer, that wasn't it. Blaise crossed the distance between them with a few long strides and grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him onto his feet.
"Listen close, you disgusting little man, because I'm only going to say this once," she snarled. "I'm here with you right now because I respect my commander. I'm not here for your enjoyment. If you want your cock to stay attached, you'd better keep it in your fucking pants."
"What? No, that's not - I didn't mean-" Morgan stammered, horrified. Had there been a sexual connotation to his phrasing? He definitely hadn't intended one. He'd have to remember not to say that again.
She gave him a shake. "Tell me you understand what I'm saying to you."
"I understand," he croaked. She released him roughly, sending him sprawling in the dirt. He picked himself up gingerly. "I'm sorry, I-"
"Shut up. I don't want to hear it." Morgan closed his mouth and averted his eyes, shrinking back. An apology would have to wait until Blaise was... less furious.
She eventually turned away. "I'll take first watch," she announced with her back to him. "Can't sleep like this."
He wasn't going to sleep either, not after that outburst. It would be prudent to rest, though. He returned to his seat by the fire and settled in to meditate. The skeletons folded down into themselves, collapsing in an orderly manner so they would be easy to raise again later. Blaise whirled around at the noise.
"What are you doing?" She squinted suspiciously at the neat piles of bones.
"Putting them away. They don't stay together very long when I'm resting."
"Resting." Morgan wished immediately that he'd chosen a different way to phrase it. Maybe an explanation would help.
"Golems need magic to hold them together. Once they run out, if they don't get more, they just fall apart."
"Uh huh, sure. 'Resting' is a weird way to say 'sleeping' if that's what you mean, though. So what exactly do you plan to do behind my back all night if it isn't sleeping?"
"Just meditation."
"Why not sleep like a normal person?"
Morgan made the mistake of hesitating, unable to decide how to answer on the spot. Blaise jabbed her bow towards him.
"I said, why not?"
"It's nearly the same thing," he explained, "just with more awareness. I don't usually sleep in unfamiliar surroundings. None of my Order do."
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"I don't lie, but if you don't believe me, I can't make you." He did not look away from her gaze, though he wanted to. It was uncomfortable. But people seemed to equate eye contact with honesty, so he made the effort.
Blaise didn't look satisfied with his answer, but she lowered her bow and turned her back on him again, muttering under her breath. It would do, then. He sat in silence for a minute or so before starting to meditate. Being rested was always preferable to the alternative.
18 notes · View notes
fonulyn · 3 years
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fonulyn’s 2020 in fics
this is kind of exciting since in 2020 I did get a lot writing done, and it marks the second year in a row that I’m able to actually make one of these posts after that horrible not good at all terrible disastrous three and a half years when I wrote absolutely nothing. so it’s a triumph to get another one of these up! personal victory haha.
in total, in 2020 I wrote 148 fics, ranging from like 200 words to 34k (idk if those short things can be called fics but i just did). by pairing, there’s
13 of Joe/Nicky
58 of Piers/Leon
56 of Chris/Leon
(1 with Piers/Leon and Chris/Leon)
5 of the ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)
11 of Krauser/Leon
3 of Wesker/Chris (lmao still can’t believe this)
1 of Chris/Leon/Krauser
so. in retrospect, i did okay. 
it’s over 300 thousand words and I am kind of. surprised. and that is not counting the approximately 50k of wips i’m ignoring :’D
I’d also like to take a second to thank everyone who has ever sent me nice messages, commented on the fics, left reblogs or kudos, and the like. you’re what kept me going, I wouldn’t have gotten even half as much done otherwise.
without further ado, links to all of the fics under the cut! they’re organized by pairing, and the links take you to tumblr posts (bc I’m lazy) and a lot of them have a link in the post that takes you to ao3. (also can you see I put ~~so much~~ effort into naming the tumblr ficlets :’D feel free to laugh at me)
Joe/Nicky
a dog by any other name | 1,5k | The one wherein they end up owning a dog.
within the heart a flame of desires | 5,0k | Nicolo watches Yusuf have sex with others, desperately wishing he was with him instead. Until things change. He much prefers having Yusuf all for himself.
the world will wait | 2,4k | The one wherein Joe takes a lot of naps and the whole team gets to relax.
catch this | 650w | Every time Joe gets distracted (by Nicky), Andy tries to take him by surprise.
nobody’s perfect | 1,9k | Even immortal warriors have their weaknesses, Nile learns. Those just aren’t what she expected.
only in these arms | 780w | Nicky has trouble sleeping alone. Andy is a decent substitute, but only when Joe returns so does Nicky’s ability to get a decent night’s rest.
(please don’t explain) that time in Malta | 580w | Nile doesn’t think at first it would even be possible for Joe to be embarrassed. By anything. Until one evening, they talk about Malta.
cool it down boys | 400w | Andy gets no sleep. She gets revenge, though.
cowboy, baby | 340w | Nicky has the fashion sense of a sack of flour, and he is fine with that.
that day is not today | 4,9k | They struggle through the whole lab-experience. It isn’t the time yet to forgive Booker.
tea, soup and tlc | 2k | The one wherein Joe is not sick. At all. Nope. He isn't.
two drinks too many | 770w | Nicky is a little drunk. Joe loves him anyway.
safe haven | 3,9k | The one wherein everyone gets quality cuddles from Joe.
Piers/Leon
it was you that I found | 23,4k | Leon doesn’t really do relationships. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he always seems to be so bad at them. Of course entirely by accident he manages to build one without even realizing it. 
unexpected visitor | 690w | Piers is forced on bed-rest. At least Leon stops by.
got me all tied up (never let me go) | 4,0k | Piers doesn’t like suits. Leon loves Piers in a suit.
not so subtle | 210w | “Soo, were you checking me out all night, or was that just my imagination?” Leon asks suddenly, Piers chokes on his drink in surprise.
nighttime fools | 4,8k | Piers and Leon get arrested for public indecency. It’s not their fault, honest.
piers isn’t sick, really, he isn’t (he is) | 670w | “Oh, hi,” Piers said immediately, a goofy smile slipping onto his face. Man, he was happy to see Leon. So happy to see him.  
so you’ve met Xena | 620w | “Xena?” Leon turned to look at Piers, decidedly unimpressed. “You named your dog after the Warrior Princess?“
you’re cute, you know | 680w | Piers took the opportunity the second their gazes met. He grinned, as charmingly as he possibly managed, and said “You’re cute, you know that?“
kiss the nightmares away | 470w | Sleepily Piers blinked, trying to make his eyes work properly. He squinted at the digital clock on the bedside, and its harsh red numbers that told him it was 3:30, and confusedly he turned to frown at Leon. “Why aren’t you sleeping?“
smooth talking, Nivans, very smooth | 1,4k | Piers can not control what comes out of his mouth.
dream a little (dirty) dream of me | 1,3k | Piers wakes Leon up. That's it.
your shirt is my shirt | 950w | With a sigh Piers grabbed the only shirt available that wasn’t battery operated and obnoxious. It was Leon’s, so old that the print had faded completely, leaving only faint outlines behind. And when Piers pulled it on he grumbled again, realizing how tight it was.
here for you | 620w | Leon can’t sleep, but somehow Piers makes his anxieties bleed away. 
grand plans | 260w | “Are you seriously going to wear that?”
new puppy | 430w | “Hey there little guy.” Leon bent down to pick up the little puppy, straightening again to hold it against his chest. His hands looked almost comically large as the dog was so tiny, and carefully he cradled it close.
a little bit funny | 850w | So maybe Piers hadn’t slept properly in days, and the sleep deprivation was making him a little hysterical, but he didn’t even remember when a stupid comedy would’ve made him laugh so much.
for now our time is here | 4,4k | When Chris had told them to wait up and left them alone for a while, this probably wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but the second he’d closed the door behind himself the tension that had been brewing between Leon and Piers had snapped like a cord.
wanting too much | 1,1k | “Fucking hell, never do that to me again,“ Leon huffed out, clearly relieved beyond anything.
the prettiest agent with the prettiest hair | 1,2k | Piers stress-braids. Leon doesn't mind. And besides, Piers always undoes the braids whenever he's done with them. Until one night he forgets.
you can be the air that i breathe | 1,0k |  It wasn’t the first time Piers got punched in the face by a gigantic BOW so hard that the hit sent him flying. It was, however, the first time he was sent careening off a bridge and into the river below. And it was, definitely, the first time Leon saved his life.  
before I found you | 890w | The second Piers realized that the spikes covering the monster actually came off, and it was able to shoot them towards its attackers, it was already too late for him to react.
you don’t need to stay | 950w | Piers did his best to take care of Leon.  And as much as Leon appreciated it, he didn’t want to be a goddamn nuisance.
need me, baby, just a little stronger tonight | 2,1k | Leon really has to practice perfecting his poker face. At least he gets what he wants in the end.
be my valentine | 920w | “Are you sure?“ Piers asked for the tenth time, frowning down at the bar of Fazer blue chocolate. “I still think it’s… not a lot?”
you're the world that I wanna discover | 7,5k | The one wherein they buy a house, fall even more in love, and Leon reaches a breaking point.
call me (tell me what you feel) | 1,7k | Leon is stuck at the airport. At least he gets a nice phone call with Piers.
incentive to stay alive | 1,0k |  "Hey, Nivans, wake up,” he tried, but there was no answer, and he couldn’t help but let the worry in his voice. “Piers. Don’t you dare die on me. Chris would kill me if I let anything happen to his best sniper.”
blanket hog Leon | 880w | Grumbling, Piers turned around, and as he’d expected Leon was cozily wrapped in at least four blankets, leaving nothing for Piers, who was currently freezing his ass off.
I give you all I am | 2,0k | “Leon?” Piers approached in quick steps, watching recognition flicker in Leon’s eyes as he lowered his own weapon too. Leon was slumped against the wall, hunched over and holding his side, and there was something feverish about his eyes. Yet as soon as he realized it was Piers he gave a shaky grin, even if that was all he managed.
why are the gorgeous ones always taken | 810w | Piers blinked his eyes open slowly, expression scrunched up, and it took a long moment before he managed to actually focus his gaze on Leon’s face. When he did, a smile immediately bloomed on his face, and he even tilted his head a little. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” he croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use.
still intact | 1,1k | It took a week before the level of painkillers was correct and Piers woke up with a gasp instead of a scream. And the first thing he asked was for someone to kill him.
of guns and ...guns | 270w | Leon likes the way Piers handles his rifle. There’s drool involved.
always fashionable | 540w | Apparently having a crush on the well-dressed, professional Leon translated into being absolutely fucking in love with the sleep-mussed and squinty Leon.
misplaced phones and revelations | 660w | Chris finds Piers’ phone. Which turns out to be Leon’s phone. The two turn out to be dating. Chris feels kind of blind.
yee-haw! | 1,0k | Leon rides Piers. Wearing a cowboy hat.
you’re cute when you’re angry | 620w | When he’s stressed, Piers washes the dishes. Angrily.  
want to drink (with) you | 1,1k | Piers is an embarrassing drunk. Leon loves him anyway. 
and each one of us is a path somewhere | 22,2k | Piers gets thrown twenty years back in time. Into Raccoon City, 1998. He’d heard about what Leon went through that night, but he never thought he’d have to actually experience it himself. Together with bright eyed rookie Leon.
hold me close | 560w | Leon falls asleep against Piers’ shoulder. 
goatee man | 890w | Piers thinks growing a beard might make him look more manly. 
promises kept | 2,9k | Leon finds out Piers isn't dead after all. He's just locked up in a BSAA research facility with no one allowed in to visit.
stay with me tonight (stay until the end of life) | 2,2k | Leon doesn’t know I’m contacting you, but a fair warning, because I’m worried. He was found unconscious on the bathroom floor at 10AM. They took him to the hospital, but he checked himself out. Look after him, okay?  
4am | 760w | “What can I say,” Piers grinned against Leon’s neck, “I was dreaming of you.” He had no reservations about moving his hips, letting Leon feel just how nice the dream had been.
caffeinated | 550w | Someone gives Piers coffee. Leon knows what to do with that excess energy.
and i'm you and you're me | 7,0k | The one wherein Leon and Piers accidentally swap bodies.
girls’ day in bed | 780w | Piers and Leon wake up one morning with boobs and other assorted lady parts. It’s a fun day. (Spoiler alert: they have a lot of sex.)
worlds apart | 3,2k | Krauser kidnaps Piers to lure Leon to him. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)
not again | 530w | Watching Piers’ mutation brings Leon some very unfortunate flashbacks. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)
gorgeous | 300w | Piers calls Leon gorgeous.
the most comfortable pillow | 350w | Leon falls asleep with his head on Piers’ lap.
beautiful | 840w | Even after losing an arm and ruining half of his face, Piers is the most beautiful thing to Leon.
as seen in adult films | 580w | Piers doesn’t know one damn thing about dishwashers. He volunteers to fix one anyway.
never letting go | 260w | Leon is goddamn comfortable right here. He isn’t going to move a single inch.
nose kisses | 390w | Piers is cute when he’s cranky. Just ask Leon.
no other half could ever make me whole | 6,3k | The one wherein they get a scare and there's a proposal.
the luxury of being held | 690w | The fabric of Piers’ hoodie is the perfect place to hide. (feat. Theo’s amazing art)
just one step from heaven, one step from paradise | 2,7k | The one wherein Piers makes sure Leon doesn’t freeze, and they enjoy their vacation.
all is fair in war, love and Mario Kart | 600w | Piers sucks at Mario Kart.
Chris/Leon
if i never see all my dreams come true, the one that mattered the most was you | 5,9k |  Chris enlists Leon’s help on a mission as a clever ruse to make the man take a break he so obviously needs. 
and I don't want to know how slow the time must flow | 11,1k | Chris and Leon try to fight their way out of a castle and feelings take over.
you are my heart, you are my home | 3,2k | Chris is sick, and he’s being extra dramatic about it.
from the gates of longing | 5,5k | Chris volunteers to take Leon home, but ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.
how to accidentally get adopted - a guide by Piers Nivans | 2,3k | Piers accidentally keeps calling Chris dad, and Chris and Leon sort of unofficially adopt him.
right here by your side | 1,9k | When Chris shows up to check up on Leon, four days into his self-imposed flu-exile, at first Leon wants to just throw him out. But then it turns into a relationship-building moment and suddenly he can’t mind all that much.
about time | 1,8k | Leon is freezing. Chris warms him up.
yet you'll lose yourself in me | 3,3k | The one wherein Chris is generously proportioned and Leon kind of loves it. (whispers: size kink)
beyond tomorrow | 1,7k | Leon ends up in the hospital after a mission, Chris hurries to see if he’s okay. Claire is already there.
look at those heart-eyes | 180w | Quickly Chris shook his head, reluctantly pulling his attention away from Leon.
there’s a cat in the sink | 220w | “There’s a cat in the sink, and we don’t own a cat.”
from the future | 300w | It’s 1998 and Leon comes face to face with himself, from 2017.
surprise redfield | 250w | “Don’t worry,“ Chris says, nonchalantly as if it’s an everyday occurrence that he’s standing in Leon’s kitchen.
need this feeling to last (there's no denying) | 2,4k | “Why don’t you fuck me yourself, you coward!“
something solid, something good | 520w | Chris was so warm, and that together with all the glorious skin-on-skin contact made Leon happily sink back into the embrace.
come closer | 520w | Leon is done with Chris being so careful around him.  
your arms around me | 690w | Chris woke up cold and alone.  
a needed break | 440w | Sometimes Chris got so single-mindedly stuck on a task that he forgot everything around himself.
the iron maiden | 820w | Suddenly it was hard to breathe, like he couldn’t fill his lungs with oxygen no matter how much he tried, to the point that his vision started to get blurry. 
robin hood: chris in tights | 480w | Chris’ face was twisted into a theatrical grimace as he tugged a little on the green tights we was wearing. They were like painted on and although he didn’t really have body issues in general, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about it.
luckless romance | 4,0k | Leon and Chris turn a drunken argument into something better. (Please note: The link takes you to the last part of six.) 
take my hand | 920w | The worst part, by far, is not seeing anything. There are sounds, people talking like he isn’t even in the room, machines beeping and doors opening, quick busy steps against the floor.
let me take you to the edge of the stars and back again | 3,0k | Chris takes his sweet, sweet time before he gives Leon what he wants.
I’m going to seduce you | 1,1k | Jesus Christ, they’d had sex. Leon groaned again, this time less because of the headache and more because he felt so unbearably dumb. He’d probably had the best sex of his life, and he couldn’t remember it.
a little help | 430w | Those fucking idiots, Claire thought for the millionth time, as she watched her brother give the biggest dumbest heart eyes at Leon, who was blissfully oblivious about everything going on around him.
the way to anyone’s heart (the answer is food, good food)  | 2,4k | Chris asks Leon to teach him how to cook. (Spoiler: Leon doesn't know how.)
oh the horror | 270w | “I seriously don’t understand why you want to watch this shit,” Leon groaned, pressing his face into Chris’ chest.
jealousy | 670w | Chris swallowed hard, downed the last of his beer, and took the leap. “I’m jealous okay.”
twist me up | 510w | Sure Chris had always known that Leon was flexible. Sure he had seen him even do these weird-ass yoga poses more than once. There was nothing new to it.
meet the parents | 600w | Leon brings Chris home for Christmas.
precious cargo | 930w | Chris lugs Leon around like luggage.
it's always been you | 870w  | The hardest thing for Leon was when someone he cared about was in danger but there was nothing he could do about it. And then Chris fell into a ravine.
come away with me (to another world) | 2,0k | Leon finally gets a vacation.
first time sucker | 930w | “I don’t know, because it’s fun?” Leon said. “I promise you, you’re missing out.”
read my scars | 1,9k | Chris learns about Leon's scars.
battered and bruised | 650w | Ignoring the bruises and scrapes he had, Chris turned around and sprinted towards Leon, gritting his teeth against the strain moving put on his side.
a different kind of proposal | 500w | “If you keep fucking me this good,“ he breathed out, unsure if Chris even heard the words, “I’ll have to marry you.“
welcome home | 370w | The door had barely fallen shut behind Chris when Leon was in his personal space, grabbing him by the lapels of the trench coat he was wearing so he could pull him in close for a kiss.
I’d always choose you | 280w | Ada was something they didn’t talk about. When someone, anyone, brought her up Leon clammed up and changed the subject. And Chris had tried to be understanding, had tried to be patient, had tried his very best to respect Leon’s boundaries with this. But Chris was only human.
fuck or die | 1,7k | Chris gets hit by a weird plant, and his hard-on just will not go down. Until Leon takes matters into his hands.
i need a hug | 470w | “I think,“ Leon sighed, but then it was like all fight bled from him and he slumped a little forward. “I need a hug.“
oh no there’s only one bed | 990w | “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just one night. I’m sure you’ve slept with worse persons than me.”
the butt that became a pillow | 420w | Chris falls asleep on Leon.
like father like son | 2,8k | Leon finds out he has a son.
monster magnet | 1,1k | Leon didn’t know when it had become something he recognized so easily. When had it become so normal for mutated creatures to look at him with such unadulterated lust.
please be okay | 620w | Leon faints from sheer exhaustion. 
like father like... grandson? | 4,1k | Liam proposes to a girl but ends up with Piers anyway. Chris and Leon are the friendly neighborhood grandpas. Their grandson is adorable, and Leon thinks he takes after him. Obviously. (feat. Piers/OMC)
black lace | 790w | Chris gets to come home to Leon in thigh high black lacy stockings and matching lingerie, instantly sending Chris’ brains into an overdrive.
at least let me help | 790w | Leon opens the door an inch, Chris uses the given opportunity to slam it wide open. Metaphorically speaking.
bridal style | 200w | Leon refuses the medical check up. So Chris carries him.
dance with me | 1,0k | Wedding planning with two schmoopy idiots in love.
drunken cravings | 480w | Chris and Leon are drunk, hungry, and incapable of cooking.
blow me | 650w | Chris gets his brains sucked out through his dick.
Claire knows best | 610w | Chris tries to set Leon up with Claire. Then Claire does set Leon up with Chris.
chase the demons away | 940w | Chris struggles with nightmares, Leon is there to hold him through them.
dance me to the end of love | 550w | Leon struggles to learn to dance.
Piers/Leon, Chris/Leon
fate changed (we keep loving as if the story isn't over yet) | 34,3k | In hindsight, Leon knew the second he opened the door and saw Chris standing there, dressed in his service uniform, mouth pinched to a grim line and unable to meet Leon’s gaze straight. There was only one logical reason for it, only one way to explain why he was standing there like he would rather be anywhere else, and Leon almost slammed the door right in his face. --  Or the one wherein no one really knows how to handle their grief, but somehow life goes on anyway. (I’m still so proud of this one negl)
Chris/Leon/Krauser
hearts beating fast (let's make this moment last) | 5,7k | Chris gets invited in for a threesome. The clever thing would’ve been to refuse, knowing his unrequited, helpless feelings. But then again, he’s just a man.
OT3
double the fun | 3,1k | Truthfully, Leon hadn’t thought his day could get this much better. Everything had gone wrong from the second he’d woken up and he’d already written the day off entirely, until the moment Chris had looked him dead in the eye and asked “How do you feel about two at once?”
of cuddles and blanket forts | 620w | Piers and Leon build a blanket fort. Chris would think they’re idiots, but they might actually be kind of brilliant.
hair straightener or waffle iron? | 310w | Chris and Piers break Leon’s hair straightener.
the last piece of the puzzle | 2,7k | The one wherein two becomes three.
not alone | 2,3k | Completely on accident, Piers and Chris happen to be there to save Leon from a tight spot. Cuddles ensue.
Krauser/Leon
drive me crazy (your eyes made me crave for this) | 2,3k | It was the best sex Krauser had ever had in his life. That’s why he kept coming back to Leon, kept saying ‘yes’ every single time the man as much as hinted that he might be up for meeting. He was getting off, and he was enjoying every second of it, and that was the extent of it. There certainly weren’t any feelings involved. None. None at all. 
enjoying the view | 200w | Krauser likes ass-watching.
carry me to bed | 440w | Slowly Leon was coming back to his senses. Sweat was cooling on his skin, the hard surface of the table underneath him starting to feel uncomfortable.  
and I lied that we would be fine | 1,1k | Leon knows he isn’t supposed to be doing this. There’s a vague recollection of something more important, something he should be focusing on, but the vast majority of his world has narrowed down onto the slick slide of their bodies, on the cheap scratchy sheets on his skin, on the sound of Krauser’s voice in his ear, and he can’t bring himself to care.
yet never enough | 1,9k | Krauser likes mirrors.
of wanting | 400w | Leon’s laughter echoed in the room as Krauser pinned him against the wall, before shutting him up with a ravenous kiss.
better with you | 590w | Despite knowing Krauser had his back, Leon was genuinely surprised when the man sat down right next to him instead of telling him to suck it up and get moving.
breakfast | 530w | Lately things had slowly begun to shift. And Leon wasn’t sure yet what was going on. Or how he felt about it.
kill me now | 900w | It was more than clear how much Krauser enjoyed their frantic attempts to kill one another, and Leon’s traitorous body shivered in response, the memory of times long gone returning like no time had passed at all.
lust that I've already spilled | 1,4k | “C’mon, Leon,” Krauser taunted, grinning as widened his stance. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”
will you just look at me | 650w | Krauser refuses to do feelings.
Wesker/Chris
I am the light that shall lead you to darkness | 1,8k | In all honesty, Chris wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here: a panting mess, bent over a massive wooden table with Wesker holding him down laughably easily. 
the light to drown in darkness | 2,0k | Wesker craves Chris. So Wesker takes Chris.
love-hate-(obsession?) | 470w | Wesker is a lovesick fool. If he wasn’t also a homicidal maniac, Jill would almost feel sorry for him.
55 notes · View notes
j3mjj3m · 4 years
Text
objection
because im now a law/crim student, this is all im gonna fuckin write about 
anyway here’s andrew as neil’s defence attorney (totally inspired by @aymmidumps‘ amazing andrew here)
gruesome crime descriptions but neil’s not a butcher in this one
*
“Wesninki’s applying for an appeal,” was all Andrew heard from the minute he’d stepped into the office. It was all anyone could - and would - talk about. 
Reasonably so, Andrew presumed. Nathaniel Wesninski had been locked up since his nineteenth birthday, when he slit his father’s throat. Andrew reckons he should’ve never been charged with murder, especially when considering his father was the Butcher of Baltimore, but Andrew had been just an undergraduate student at the time. There was nothing he could’ve done. 
Now, though. 
Now Andrew was just over thirty and steadily climbing the ranks. He hadn’t intended on becoming a defense attorney, but it just so happened that he was damn good at keep kids out of jail. The juvenile detention system was just a cog in the wheel of dysfunction, after all: he knew that first hand. 
Survivors of violent assault who had killed their attackers were also common clients of Andrew’s. Those with mental illnesses and drug addictions found their way into his stack of case files, too. He’d always thought he’d be on the right side of the law, throwing shitty people in jail and fixing the system one day at a time. 
This was alright too, he supposed. 
“Hey, Minyard,” Boyd leaned against the door-frame of Andrew’s office. He had his own private space, unlike the others, who often shared offices with two or three of their colleagues. Andrew was just lucky. Or favoured. 
“Let me guess,” Andrew said, without looking up from his file on a thirteen-year-old being charged with battery and theft. “Dan’s pissy because I didn’t turn up to dinner on Friday, there’s free coffee in the break room, Wesninski’s applying for appeal and Wymack wants me?” 
“Uh,” Matt squinted. “Yes? How the hell did you guess?” 
Andrew gave Matt a bored look. “You talk too loud. The walls are thin, you know.” 
The man huffed, conflicted between being impressed and disgruntled at Andrew’s usual bitchiness. He simply threw his hands up and vanished from Andrew’s doorway, most likely to groan to his wife about how incorrigible Andrew seemed to be. 
He threw his file onto his desk, locked his office door behind him and swung past the break room to dump three packets of sugar into a free latte. By the time he arrived at Wymack’s door, the man was already stood up, most definitely unimpressed by Andrew’s tardiness. And his lack of tie. 
He did wear a tie to court. Most of the time. 
“Nice of you to finally show up,” the old man grunted, tugging on the cuffs of his casual blazer. Andrew fucking hated blazers. They were always too tight around his shoulders. “I suppose you already know what this is all about?” 
“Seeing as Allison, Robin and Renee have all tried to talk my ear off about it, yes. I’m aware Wesninski is trying for appeal.” 
Wymack wasn’t impressed. “What you don’t know is that he’s come to us to represent him.” 
Andrew paused. Now that was interesting. Nathaniel Wesninski was halfway between New York and Baltimore. Why the fuck would he recruit from seedy South Carolina? There was no viable reason, unless - 
“Kevin,” he deduced. “How do they know each other?”
“Moriyamas and Wesninskis ran in the same circles, before it all got shut down.” Wymack arched a brow. “Wesninski figures that Kevin is the only person he can trust.” 
“Kevin won’t do it,” Andrew shook his head. “He doesn’t touch anything Moriyama related with a ten-foot pole.”
“Wesninski knows that. Which is why he’s asked for you: Kevin passed him on.” 
Andrew closed his eyes, very, very briefly, as he cocked his head at his boss. “You want me to get the most notorious gangster’s son out of jail.” 
“At least have him commuted to manslaughter,” Wymack suggested. 
At least, Andrew thought. He remembered looking over the Wesninski case in his third year. Nathaniel Wesninski had laughed, incredulous, as the FBI lead him away in handcuffs, nearly losing his fingers in an effort to cling onto the knife that he’d used to end Nathan Wesninski’s life. 
That wasn’t manslaughter. That was homicide of the first degree, plastered over the front page of every newspaper the next day. 
"You’ll owe me,” Andrew warned. 
“I’ll cover your bar tab at the Foxhole for the rest of the year,” Wymack conceded. 
Andrew huffed. “It’s February.” 
Wymack arched an eyebrow. 
Andrew had a feeling he’d regret this. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels, looking to the ceiling. “Fine.”
“It was an order, not a request,” Wymack grunted. “Get out of my office and get a visitation permit.” 
Andrew, already fed up with a case he’d only just been assigned, turned on his heel and dutifully marched off. 
*
The drive was nine and a half hours. Andrew could’ve made it a single-day round trip on a plane, but he refused to fly somewhere he could drive instead. He booked a half-hour slot with Wesninski on Saturday afternoon: if he found the man interesting enough, he’d bribe a guard to let him back in Sunday morning. Then he’d drive home, midday Sunday. 
At least Wymack was letting him stay in a nice hotel in Philadelphia. It almost made the journey worth it, but he wouldn’t jump the gun. It would only be a worthwhile trip if he figured that Wesninski wasn’t hopeless. The man was just 29. It was nearly 10 years since he’d been locked up. Andrew’s chances were - practically slim to none. 
Half-way through the drive Nicky called. 
“Heard you’re going to see Wesninski,” he said, the phone somewhat masking Nicky’s obvious curiosity.
Andrew sighed. “Aaron needs to shut his mouth.” 
“Aaron comes to family dinners,” Nicky objected. “He has every right to tell me whatever he wants. Speaking of - if I promise you a whole loaf of garlic bread, will you come to the next one?” 
Andrew huffed. “I’m busy.” 
“Yeah, yeah, you hate socialising, you’ll tolerate dealing with Aaron at work but nowhere else, blah blah. What about me? Your dear, old cousin?” 
“Fine,” Andrew grunted. “Now, leave me alone.” 
“Yes!” Nicky crowed, but whatever response he had after that was cut off. Andrew dropped his phone back in the passenger seat, turning the radio back up and relaxing into his chair. 
It was a further five hours after that disturbance till his arrival at SCI Phoenix, Philadelphia. Andrew would always despise how depressing prison complexes looked. Chain link fences and brick boxes, splayed out like a progression of architectural failures. The parking lot was enormous and empty. Andrew parked far enough away that his nice car wasn’t in direct sight from the prison’s visiting entrance, fixing up his suit and tie and slinging the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder. 
The guard by the door snapped his fingers for identification. Andrew flicked his license towards him, gaze deadened by boredom. The guard almost winced when Andrew sighed, looking to the clock. Once he was finally granted access, he took the lanyard and shoved his way through the doors. 
Visitation was close to shutting up when Andrew arrived, miserable loved ones reaching for final hugs and brief kisses. Andrew was lead by the duty guard to a private room, waiting by the barred door. 
Wesninski was already waiting for him inside. His hands were cuffed to the table, fiddling with a blunt key. His red curls were overgrown and messy, the grey jumpsuit hanging off his small frame. 
When the door clanged shut, Wesninski looked up. His eyes were the most spectacular blue Andrew had ever seen, his face marred by horrific scars and the stitches used to hold him together. He looked ridiculously unimpressed. Andrew, meanwhile, smothered any flickers of emotion as intrigue sparked in his chest. 
Damn, he thought.
“Unlock him,” Andrew said, to the guard. 
The guard arched an eyebrow. “You sure?” 
“Obviously,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t have knives on his person - they’d set off the metal detector - but he was never vulnerable. He made a promise that he’d never be taken advantage of again. 
Wesninski flexed his wrists when the guard unlocked them, giving Andrew a thinly veiled look of appraisal. The guard immediately skittered off to stand outside the door, holding the interrogation room’s keys in tightly clenched fists. 
“So,” Wesninski said, holding out a hand. “You’re the famous Andrew Minyard.” 
"And you are the infamous Nathaniel Wesninski,” Andrew returned, ignoring the warmth of his skin as they shook hands. He sat down: the shitty metal chair creaked. “We both seem to have names and reputations that precede us.” 
Nathaniel’s eye twitched slightly. “I prefer Neil.”
Andrew leant back in his chair, leg crossed at the ankle. “You seriously think they’re going to let you out?” 
“Well,” Neil admitted. “Probably not. But I figured I’d give it a shot. It should be safer out there now.”
“You’ve been hiding in here? Who from, your father’s ghost?” 
Neil was not impressed. “His bosses, actually. But since Kengo’s second son was shot between the eyes and his first son locked up for it, I should be fine.”
“Riko and Ichirou,” Andrew deduced. “Kevin’s mentioned them once or twice.”
Neil just glared. “I can’t believe that coward won’t help me.” 
Andrew narrowed his eyes. “He owes you, does he? What for? Helping him escape the Moriyamas? Wait - that was me. What about coping with his trauma and reestablishing his career? Nevermind - that was me, too. Goodness, you haven’t been around much, have you? Right, right,” Andrew leaned over the table, resting his chin on his laced fingers. “You’ve been in jail for ten years.”
“You are not funny,” Neil snapped, gripping onto his blunt key.
“I don’t know if it’s worth my time, Mr Wesninski,” Neil flinched again. “Convince me.” 
“Other than it’s what is just?” Andrew arched an eyebrow. Neil huffed. “Fine. I’ll pay you. Double your normal fee.” 
“Prison pays well, does it?” 
“Blood money,” Neil had the audacity to wink. Dammit, Andrew thought again. “I already know you’re quite happy to spend dirty cash, Minyard. A G6, right? Bit of an upgrade from your mother’s car.” 
He should not know that. “You’re not exactly winning me over, here.” 
Neil leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the stupid little key. He must have spent the last decade tracing it down to its current blunt status. Andrew wondered what it used to unlock. 
Okay - he was intrigued by Neil. And yes, his narrative fit Andrew’s bill. And some spare cash wouldn’t hurt: he could sent Nicky and Erik over to Christmas for the summer. 
“What’s something you’ve never given anyone?” Andrew inquired. 
Neil looked up from under his ruby-tinted lashes. “What?” 
“I want something that no one else has.” Andrew leaned further forward, leaning in close. “What do you have to offer me, Wesninski?”
For a moment, Neil simply stared. His fingers stilled. He definitely had a few tattoos and scars, from what Andrew could glean at the little slice of a sharp collarbone, exposed by the jumpsuit. 
It was silent - almost electric. Andrew watched as something behind Neil’s eyes crumbled, the exhaustion settling in, the loneliness of a man who had known nothing but pain and suffering and isolation. 
“Everyone knows Nathaniel Wesninski,” Neil said. “No one knows Neil.” 
Andrew felt the remnants of a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. 
“I’ll tell you the truth,” Neil offered, glaring at the table like it offended him. “I’ve never told the truth before.” 
Andrew stood up, offering his hand. Neil followed suit, grip hesitant where he clasped Andrew’s hand.
“I’ll get you out of here,” Andrew said. 
“You’ll try,” Neil corrected him. 
“Here’s something you should know about me, Neil,” Andrew tugged on his suit jacket, fixing his cuffs. “I never fail a promise.” 
Andrew felt Neil’s gaze, watching him as he left. As Andrew filtered past the guard, he snuck a two hundred into the guard’s pocket. 
“Nine o’clock, tomorrow morning,” he said. “Bring him here.” 
The guard, moon-eyed, just nodded. 
Andrew glanced over his shoulder for one last assessment of his newest client. Neil was leant against the table they had spoken at, arms crossed as he glared in Andrew’s direction. His hair flopped forward, masking one eye. Like this, with his tattooed forearms and shoulders and hell-fire hair, he looked dangerous. 
In his right hand, he played with his key. 
Andrew spun on his heel and left. He knew he’d made the right decision. 
Neil Wesninski would get out of jail, if it was the last thing Andrew did. 
*
758 notes · View notes
tigerdrop · 3 years
Note
king u gonna elaborate on virgin benrey
 listen i have kiryu “is 100% a virgin at the ripe old age of 37, and this is appealing to me instead of fucking hilarious″ kazuma disease and it has followed me here. also this kind of branches into a completely different kink at the end b/c i am diseased
so you know how i write "obviously fucks good and hard all the time" benrey. well........you know.......like..........what if......................he didnt. what if he was. what if he had never fucked before in his life and his incessant flirting finally works and hes like "i did not expect to get this far."
envision, if u will, the delightful awkwardness of virgin benrey + "has never had sex with a dude before" gordon
ive definitely brought up the possibilities of gordon going all science-brain on null benrey before but i think it works just as well on virgin benrey too. its a learning experience for both of them and if theres one thing gordons good at, its research. and gordon probably gets way too up in his own head about making sure he does this shit right and spends a lot of sleepless nights googling "how to have sex with dudes" and, you know, researching, 
if benreys not the one fucking babying him thru his first gay experiences he is probably going to bungle it so fucking badly and i think it would be really funny 
alternatively please consider gordon being so fucking neurotic about benrey never having done this shit before that he avoids the subject as hard as possible, thinking that hes gonna dick it up hardcore, but the whole time benreys just thinking "bro i havent had my dick touched in [however long hes been alive]. come on". the tension
furiously making out with him behind a fucking crate in black mesa and then realizing this is Going Places and gordons voice breaks as he says, way too loud, "I GOTTA UHHH GO RELOAD MY SMG. RIGHT NOW"
you think gordon is touch starved ? no. Hell with this 
Im just tsying theres no evidence hes been touched at all by another human being in his life before this. if hes video game in real he benrey noclip out of being touched 
what if he like, chooses not to noclip/not feel....ON that time gordon catches him. just cuz hes curious, a gay impulse. or maybe hes so surprised (and gay) he forgets to avoid it
and oh, to be in gordon freeman's gentle grasp. makes him into an unholy annoyance of awkward gayness for the rest of the series
YEAS.......also he has definitely thought hard about sucking gordons dick but doesnt actually have any idea how he would go about it. hes just heard its cool
giddy thinking about the scenario where its actually benrey whos terrible at sucking dick b/c hes never done it before and gordon who actually does suck dick like a champ
i know that this is literally the plot of the very first serious nsfw fic in this fandom but still. virgin beney. benrey getting sucked off for the first time in his entire life and shaking like a fucking leaf......
Power trip of Gordon realizing this guy whose been hitting on him the whole time has no idea what to actually do 
Gordon Freeman Gives Benrey A Prostate Exam
its a joke but its not a joke. virgin benrey being vaguely aware that being fucked by gordon freeman would be cool, in theory, but not fully conceptualizing of how you actually get a dick in your ass until gordons like "what?? no, dude, you cant just stick it in there" and gives him a demonstration and thats how benrey discovers he has a prostate 
benrey like "idgi man this just feels weird. when do we get to theohhh my god what. what that" and gordons like "what, u mean this?" (curls his fingers again) mean smirk hours
i want him to make a squeaky little noise when gordon says that and curls his fingers again, and gordon's like "ha- knew he'd like it" and keeps kneading him a while; but oops, suddenly benrey's coming with an even squeakier noise 
gordon's so surprised he just keeps going, hes like, not comprehending until benys whining at him to stop
a thought: benreys not good at "being human" and probably doesnt actually know whats supposed to happen when u nut so every time hes been jackin it he just does it until it starts to be Just A Little Too Much and then hes like "mission accomplished" and stops. imagine his fucking surprise when  gordons jerking him off and he doesnt stop and hes like "wh ha hu what the fuck i already got off bro" and gordon just stares at him and the distinctive lack of cum on his hand and s like ".......did you?  you sure about that one." 
tl;dr benrey squirming and babbling and digging his fingers into gordons back as he begs him to keep going, he doesnt know whats gonna happen and hes feeling totally overwhelmed b/c gordons pushing him further than hes ever been pushed and he keeps inadvertently trying to wriggle away b/c its So Much but gordon, maybe, pins down his hips so he can get benrey off For Real....... 
even better if its when gordons sucking him off for the first time so he can wrap his arms and hands around benreys thighs to keep them spread wide open and firmly in place 
knees shaking and thighs jumping constantly 
and benrey has no idea when its supposed to be over so he cant even warn gordon properly. he just keeps getting louder and louder....... 
maybe even.......completely hunched over gordon......pushing him down on his dick with his hands in his hair....... 
alternating between babbling "stop" and "dont stop" b/c hes stupid 
eventually gordon gets so sick of benrey not being able to decide whether he wants to shove gordon onto his dick or yank him off that he just pulls off and says "look, man, do you trust me?" b/c he would really like to just get benrey to stop edging himself here 
UNINTENTIONAL OVERSTIMULATION.......THE TEARS........HHHHHHH
and he eventually gets benrey to nod furiously at him that he trusts him and gordons just like, okay, im not gonna stop then. im gonna keep going. and.......he does 
eyes glazed, hair sticking to him with sweat, hips all twitchy, dick all red, face also all red 
sucking benrey dry until hes over sensitive....... 
He started off spasming then he’s rocking into Gordon’s face by the time he’s wailing his name. Panting and gasping like he’s fucking DROWNING 
gordon meanwhile almost nuts in his pants from the fuckin show that benreys puttin on for him and hes not even trying. hes just Like This. gordons got jerkoff material for the next month just thinking about the way benrey wails his name and clutches his hair tight 
benreys like (slurred) 'u gonna jack off or sumn.......was it not hot'. gordon fighting with every cell of his body not to scream "WAS IT NOT HOT?"
trying to decide what would be hotter: gordon jacking off while hes on his knees with his head resting on benreys thigh or jerking off on benreys stomach and.....r.......rubbing it in
benrey watching gordon cum and feeling a whole new context for it cause now he knows how good it feels and gets turned on again faster-
thinking.......about.......th. next time. now that benreys figured it out. he gives it a try on his own time and hes so surprised that it works that he goes up to gordon like "yo. check this out. i figured out how to jack it" and gordon has the most unimpressed look on his face imaginable 
"proud of you, buddy. am i good to go back to watching storage wars, or" "you wanna uhhh.....wanna see it maybe?" and that changes his entire tune
imagining benrey being so fucking bad at it still that he keeps doing the start-stop shit b/c its so intense and hes not used to it and the thing that actually gets him to finish is gordon, pants down to his knees and fisting his own dick like he might die tomorrow, leaning forward and telling him that hes got this, benreys gonna come for him, right? come for gordon? 
gordon fucking telling him "dont stop" WRT jerking himself off and benrey just listening to him and pushing himself is ruining my fuckin mind 
its a really good thought......i love how it plays into non-human benrey having to figure out human stuff........makes me crayz
probably keeps being sensitive for a long while too........ (mumbling very very quietly) and if hes so sensitive from never being touched before......maybe hes kind of........uhhh..................ticklish
new layers to the whole "oh my god its too much stop it" + "i actually dont want you to stop touching" thing .. . . .. . . . + gordon powertripping when he realizes whats going on with him and why he keeps jerking away and trying not to laugh when gordon touches him like on his stomach or his sides
benrey accidentally jerks too hard and knees gordon in the dick from how ticklish he feels just from like, hands on his sides or something
i was actually thinking about......like.......gordon laying on the ground and suffering (because why wouldnt i be thinking about gordon suffering) and deciding that enough is enough and offering to.......desensitize benrey. you know. for his own health
you know. uhhh. tying up his arms and legs, perhaps, and. you know. "do not noclip through these. i swear to god, benrey, if you kick me in the dick again" 
i'm think about benrey begging gordon to stop, so he does, to check if this is a Forreal stop or a "hahah nooo~" stop, and benrey asks him through gasps to keep fucking tickling him (except he just says smth to the effect of ."gh.. ....keep doing it dude wuhdah hell...") and gordon gets an evil fucking grin and just feels on top of the world "yeah?? think you can handle it, huh???" and just destroys him. benrey thinks about gordon's horny manic face for weeks 
neither of them had a thing for this before this point but the combination of feeling like hes being tickled and gordons hands on him for the first time making him mad horny gives benrey a brand new fucking fetish. gordons manic fucking face im so glad we are on the same wavelength about that
i truly hate my own posts. incurable. diseased
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maandags · 4 years
Note
can i have something with draco malfoy and plants
the Forbidden Forest is quiet this time of night.
granted, the Forbidden Forest is quiet pretty much always, which is mainly due to the fact that it’s — surprisingly — forbidden for students to roam and wander. for good reason, too; the man-eating spiders and the morally questionable centaurs that, among others, make up its population aren’t known to be particularly friendly towards Hogwart’s students.
this, like all the warnings your friends have bombarded you with to try and keep you from entering the Forest, did not deter you in the slightest. in fact, it just made you want to explore its woods more. and so that’s why, at twelve whole years of age, you first set foot in the Forbidden Forest. now, you only went maybe 50 feet into the Forest that first time, giggling to yourself, adrenaline coursing through your veins, hand gripping your wand — looking over your shoulder every couple of minutes to make sure the school grounds weren’t out of sight — but it was enough to give you a taste, show you the smallest of flickers of the life brewing deep inside the forest, and it left you addicted straight away.
now, four years later, your little excursions to the Forest are never more than a few days apart. you know its paths, know its flora and fauna, know every square inch of it like the back of your hand. you’re not scared anymore of going.
nevertheless, the first few steps are always a thrill. it’s the tangible change in atmosphere, the soft bed of grass beneath your feet making way for a layer of dead leaves and branches and rocks where the tiniest of creatures wriggle about. it’s not fully dark yet, so you walk slower than you usually would, allowing yourself to look around and try and recognise as many plants and beasts as possible. (another reason why you didn’t really want to stop your visits to the forest: your Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures marks have never been higher.)
after an hour or so, as you trudge deeper into the forest, the surroundings start to grow more visibly magical in nature. trees look blurred when you try to look at them directly. big leaves shift unnaturally in completely still air. sparkly birds let out trills that sound a little too human. a swarm of small, yellow-and-blue songbirds fly over. one of them swoops down and lands briefly on your outstretched arm, and you pet it, resisting the urge to bury your fingers in the fluffy plumage, knowing full well that instead of flesh and bones these birds are made of some sort of bluish-black goop that a) smells absolutely rank, b) along with sticky and very quick-hardening seems to be vaguely acidic in nature and c) is a major bitch to wash out of clothing.
the bird flies at your side for a while, trilling in response to your soft whistles, the tip of its wing tickling your cheek every other minute. you spot a few pixies, who respond to your cheery wave with a string of hoots and screeches, a cluster of three-feet-tall mushrooms pulsing with a harsh pink light, and a slow-moving cloud of gold mist, which you give a wide berth, holding your breath for good measure.
then an arrow whizzes past your ear, and your hand flies up with a gasp. your fingers come away red with blood.
you spin on your heel, hand pressed up to the side of your head, and narrow your eyes at the centaur standing ten feet away from you. ”haha, Brin. very funny.”
he levels an unimpressed stare at you. ”you know you’re not supposed to be here, Y/N.”
”you’ve been telling me that for four years now.”
”and you’ve been ignoring it for four years.”
”indeed I have.” you spin around, yanking the arrow from the tree it landed in. ”can I keep this?”
Brin glares at you. you roll your eyes but hand the arrow back to him. ”you’re no fun. that arrow has my blood on it, I should be legally allowed to keep it.”
Brin shakes his head, turning around and starting to walk back the way he’d (supposedly) come. ”I can’t even begin to explain how flawed that logic is.”
you snicker, hurrying after him. Brin might be a little stuck up, but he’s also one of the few friends you have in the Forest, and even then you don’t see him that much. ”so. how’ve things been here?”
Brin briefly glances up at the sky, and you immediately regret asking, already steeling yourself for an incomprehensible monologue about stars and the positions of planets and whatnot. if you were better in at astronomy, you probably would have been able to understand some of it, but you’re shit at astronomy, so it’s mostly gibberish to you.
but all Brin says is, ”things are stirring.”
you raise a brow. ”things?”
”are stirring, yes.”
”stirring.”
”yes.”
”the things.”
he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. ”I really don’t know what more you want from me, Y/N.”
you look back up at him, unflinching. ”literally anything else. ‘things are stirring’ is all I got out of you, and that’s not much to go on.”
Brin sighs, short and sharp. ”I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. forget about it. it’s not something you should concern yourself with.”
you pretend to gag. ”you sound like Bane.”
Brin opens his mouth, about to object, but stops dead, narrowing his eyes and throwing out an arm to stop you. his tail swishes from side to side and he stands still, head cocked, listening intently.
for all your joking around, you immediately shut your mouth, the tension gripping Brin all of a sudden leaking into your body as well. it’s all fun and games until a centaur gets genuinely nervous, and in those situations it’s best to watch the aforementioned centaur and do what they do. your hand slowly creeps towards your robe’s breast pocket, where your wand is stored, but you don’t pull it out yet.
Brin’s eyes flick to you, irritation flashing in them. ”someone’s here.”
you pause, not sure if this is an inconvenience or a Bad Thing. ”um. elaborate, please?”
Brin takes a deep breath. ”one of yours.”
as if on cue, the silence is split by a blood-curdling scream.
your head snaps towards where the sound came from, but it’s too dark and too far away to see. ”shit,” you mutter under your breath, before summoning a globule of light to hover in front of you and taking off in the direction of the scream.
one of you. did that mean another human? a wizard? a Hogwarts student? but no, it couldn’t be — no Hogwarts student would be insane enough to venture this far into the Forbidden Forest this late into the night.
as you follow the strangled cries of panic and yelps of pain, you start to get a dim visual of what happened, and you curse again.
Devil’s Snare. the little shits are everywhere, their roots creeping along the forest floor and waiting for any living thing to stumble across them. you’ve since learned to look out for them, jump over them and walk just fast enough to avoid getting entangled, having had a few close calls yourself.
this Snare is a particularly nasty one. old, gauging by its height and the thickness of the vines sprouting from its core. strong. fucking hell. you stop just out of reach, sending a few more globules of light to surround it as to get a better view of what the exact fuck is going on.
the person is almost completely covered in vines at this point. struggling, crying out in fear and pain, gasping for breath. the vines, of course, only tangle further around his body. after a bit of heated internal debate, you begrudgingly admit that if you’re going to help this guy, you’ll need to get closer. so you do, careful not to get too close just yet. the light you’d sent up is not enough to make the Snare let go of its prey, but it is enough to (mostly) prevent any stray vines from grabbing hold of your ankles.
”stay still!” you shout, kicking a vine away and shooting three more lights to hover around the trapped guy.
he does not stay still. in fact, he doesn’t look like he heard you at all.
in the meantime, the smaller vines have taken more of an interest in you as you approach, and you growl, muttering a spell under your breath. a straight blade of white-hot flame sprouts from your wand, and as you calmly swing it in a wide arc, the light and the heat makes the plant recoil. as you pick your way through the branches and vines, getting ever closer to the guy, whose struggling is starting to get weaker, you cup your hands around your mouth, almost singing your eyebrows with your sword of fire in the process, and repeat, ”STAY FUCKING STILL!”
”what?”
”STAY STILL. I can’t help you unless you stay still!”
a faint groan sounds, and the figure stops struggling for a split second, but the vines tighten around him and out of reflex his arms shoot out, trying to fight the pressure off his chest.
”oh my god, I cannot believe I’m doing this,” you pant, closing the rest of the distance between you with a couple big leaps, landing smack in the middle of the biggest and nastiest vines, and that’s when you discover that the biggest and nastiest vines also have spikes, because the vine that immediately wraps around your calf digs its spikes into your flesh and you cry out.
a hand flails in front of your face. you grab the wrist to which it is attached. a plan forms in your mind — a crazy plan, an insane plan that just might be the death of both you and the unknown guy. but it’s the plan you have, and thus the plan you’re going with.
with your fiery blade you cut through a few of the vines that cross the guy’s chest — and then you put your wand away, extinguishing the fire and quickly stuffing your wand in your breast pocket.
”what are you doing?” he asks, and that’s when it clicks. the indignant tone he still manages to have even though he’s being crushed to death; the curl of his lip you can’t make out in the fray but can picture perfectly in your head.
you reel back, though it’s not as dramatic as you’d have liked it to be, because a thick vine has already snaked across your back (but that’s okay, that’s part of the plan, it’s okay, it’s fine) and you only manage to be pushed back into his chest with an oof.
you wrangle free, pulling back just enough to be able to make out his face. ”Malfoy?”
recognition flashes in his eyes — nothing more than two specks in the darkness — and he says quietly, ”Y/N.”
”fucking — ow —” spikes dig into the back of your thigh — ”the fuck are you doing here?”
”I think we have other things to worry about right now,” he says faintly, grunting as he’s pushed closer to you.
you scrunch up your nose but concede, promising yourself that you’ll question him later — if you even get out of this alive. ”if I die right now, Malfoy — for you — I will come back to life so I can murder you myself.”
he purses his lips, but nods, as if to say, ”that’s fair.” it is. it is fair. little shit.
you take a breath, steeling yourself, then dive down into the tangle of writhing vines at your feet, ignoring Malfoy’s shout of your name above you.
this is where it gets gross, and where you might lose a hand. one hand comes up to your chest and yanks out your wand, and the other searches beneath you — vines, vines, spikes (ow), more vines, a single leaf, and then, finally, the disgustingly soggy pulsing heart of the plant. you give a triumphant ”AHA!” then stick your wand into the core with a squelch that makes you gag, pull out your hand and shout the sword of fire spell. the flaming blade cuts through the heart. the vines shudder — convulse — and then go limp, and you shrug them off, staggering away, gagging, tripping twice before falling against a tree and retching, a hand pressed against your stomach, taking deep breaths, trying to blink the black spots away.
as soon as you feel like you can shout without throwing up, you march up to Malfoy, who looks about as good as you feel, tear out your wand and stick it under his chin and yell, ”WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”
you expect him to yell back. that’s how the two of you have always functioned: you shout something, he yells something back. he yells something, you shout back.
but he doesn’t. he just stands there, looking deflated and shaky and frankly on the verge of tears. ”thank you, Y/N.”
it catches you off-guard. you pretend it doesn’t. Malfoy never thanks anyone. ”no, fuck you. answer my goddamn question. what are you doing here?”
”I was following you, all right? I know you’ve been going into the Forest for ages, and I wanted to know what you got up to. that’s it.”
you scoff. ”right. you were just following me. that’s not creepy at all.”
”listen, Y/N. I don’t know what else you want from me.” he sounds tired and defeated and it makes you angry, because it’s so Not Malfoy that it’s unsettling, and the last thing you need right now is ‘unsettling’.
you throw your hands up into the air and start stomping away. ”I don’t know! I don’t fucking know. just — ugh!” you kick a dead tree stump, out of which comes charging a single fat gnome, waving a small stick and shouting an incomprehensible string of what are without a doubt profanities you’ve never even heard of.
”Y/N.”
”what?!”
”you’re bleeding.”
you stop walking, dropping your face in your hands and bursting into tears.
ten seconds. that’s all you allow yourself. ten seconds until you’ve got to get yourself together; ten seconds to scream and cry and sob your heart out. ten seconds, and then you take a deep, deep breath, wipe your cheeks and say, ”right,” and start walking again.
for a moment you don’t hear anything, and you think Malfoy is going to stay behind — but then he sighs and jogs a few steps to catch up to you. you walk in silence for a long time. the only words you say is when you quietly warn him not to step too close to a certain rock, or not to touch a certain flower.
when you absent-mindedly pull a leaf off a green plant and press it to your nose, inhaling deeply, he looks to you in alarm. you roll your eyes. ”it’s mint.” you inhale again, letting your eyes flit closed. ”it’s comforting.”
a little bit later, and there’s a faint rustling to your right. Malfoy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth; you rub a tired hand to your eyes. ”I was almost thinking you’d just left.”
Brin purses his lips, picking you up and wordlessly depositing you onto his back. you let your head drop against his back. ”thank you, Brin.”
”I would have helped you.”
”I had it under control.”
”I know.” he extends a hand towards Malfoy, who looks at it for a split second, then his gaze flits to you; you give a small nod, and a half second later he’s sat behind you, hands carefully resting on your hips.
”you…” your voice falters. ”you don’t have to do this, you know. Bane… and Magorian… surely they don’t approve of this.”
”they won’t know,” Brin says quietly. the forest around you slowly shifts back into a more peaceful atmosphere. the songbirds return. moonlight starts to filter through the foliage, and you take a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been needing.
a few hundred feet before the edge of the Forest, Brin stops. ”this is as far as I go.”
Malfoy slides off his back, then holds a hand for you to take, and you do, because you’re tired and wobbly and unsure whether your legs will hold your weight.
”thank you,” Malfoy says. you cast him a sideways glance. that’s the second time he’s thanked someone tonight, which is two times more than you thought he was capable of.
you nod curtly. Brin bows his head, then levels his gaze at you. ”I hope I don’t see you again, Y/N.”
you give him a lopsided grin. ”no promises.” and for the first time, something like a smile peeks through the centaur’s serious facade.
the last trek back onto school grounds is uneventful, bar the fact that the adrenaline has now completely worn off, and you start to feel sore all over, and you realise that your left leg — calf and thigh — is indeed bleeding. a lot. you have scratches on your arms and a nasty one on your cheek as well, and you’re covered in muck and grey slime. you probably look like something straight out of a Muggle zombie apocalypse film.
”you know the forest well,” Malfoy says as you step out of it.
you’re too tired to argue. ”yeah,” you reply simply. ”I love it.”
”you’ll be going back?” there’s a slightly incredulous hint to his voice, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself — you almost died. how could you possibly want to go back to such a place?
but the truth is that you do. you do want to go back. because the forest has been more of a home to you than Hogwarts has ever been. because you love its trees and its bushes and its weird magic plants and its pixies and centaurs and birds of enchantment. you love everything about it. even the near-death experiences. that’s what makes it fun.
”I will,” you say. ”I will be going back, Malfoy.” it sounds a little too much like a challenge. it sounds like you’re saying; try and stop me. I dare you.
he merely nods. he’s taken out his wand and cast a simple light spell, and the glowing tip of the wand sways as he walks. in the light, his eyes reflect gold. ”good.”
your eyebrows shoot up with the speed of a thousand Firebolts. ”excuse me?”
he grins; a boyish, sharp grin, that makes your stomach do a very irrelevant flip. ”I would have been disappointed if you didn’t.”
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