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sunshowerwriting · 10 months

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Pact Marks

(Obey Me!) Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor x Gender Neutral Reader (Separate)

2.4 k Words

Where the pack marks are and how the brothers react to seeing them.

I am very behind in obey me and i still dont know if im gonna get back into the game but i <3 the boys so even if im way behind im gonna keep writing for them. also i know this has been done a million times but i wanted to write one too so :3

Lucifer;

His pact mark showed up right below your collarbone on the right side of your body. It was in a private enough place that it wasn’t noticeable 90% of the time, but if you ever wore anything low cut or were ever shirtless then there was no way of hiding it.

He had no intention of seeing it at first. He felt no need, it was just a silly pack mark there was no need for him to search it out. And he certainly didn't think he'd feel as drawn to it as he did when he finally saw it.

When he did finally see it he was enthralled. He was so mesmerized by the little symbol that he had to stop you from doing whatever you were doing so he could just stare at it. (And maybe touch it if you would let him.)

It was a hot day in the devildom. Hotter than it had been in a very long time and there was no way you were going to let yourself get heat stroke while you were here. So you chose to wear a tanktop that had as little fabric on your body as possible. You hadn't even thought that your pack marks would be on display; you simply wanted some relief from the sweltering heat. However, your housemates did not let you by that easily. Or specifically one house mate, one that you least expect.

You were just leaving your room for something to drink but before you could get the sweet liquid your body desired Lucifer stopped you.

“Y/n, face me.”

You knew better than to decline a request like that so you turned around hoping to get whatever this was finished with as soon as possible. But what you weren’t prepared for was Lucifer just staring at you.

It made you a little self-conscious at first. But the self-conscious feeling quickly turns into amusement when you realize what he was staring at.

“Your pact mark.” You said teasingly.

His eyes didn't move from your chest. So you offered your next question with caution.

“Do you wanna touch it?”

Mammon;

His pact mark showed up on your left side right on your ribs. There was no way anyone was seeing this unless they caught you changing or you offered to show it to them. Which was bad for Mammon.

He wanted to know where it was immediately. But he wasn’t just gonna admit that to you. So he took it upon himself to pay extra close attention to any bit of exposed skin you had. Every time your shirt rode up or you took off your shoes he was examining your exposed skin with a magnifying glass.

When he finally gave in and asked you (albeit in a very roundabout way) to show him you were more than happy to do so. He was a little thrown off at you showing so much skin to him but after the shock he was really surprised by the pack mark. It's almost like he didn’t believe that it was his pack mark.

“Sure I’ll show you.” Your words were nonchalant if not a little amused at Mammon's question.

You immediately moved to lift your shirt. It may have been better if you had just taken it off but either way lifting it certainly did the job. And there on full display was Mammons pact mark. Mammon had averted his eyes briefly when you started lifting your shirt but when you made an impatient noise he looked back at you reluctantly.

His eyes immediately met with his pact mark sitting on your ribcage. The little symbol fit perfectly there and he seemed to be in a state of disbelief. His eyes were wider than normal and his jaw hung slack.

“Why are you making that face?”

Your words shook him out of his little trance and his eyes shot up to your face.

“I’m not makin a face!” He said, placing his hands on his hips.

You rolled your eyes at him but didn't say anything else on the matter. His eyes went back to the pack mark while you slowly put your shirt back down, covering the little mark.

Mammon would definitely need to see that again at a later date.

Leviathan;

His mark showed up on the outside of your right thigh. It was an odd place in your opinion, but the more you thought about it the more you realized just how perfect it was for the avatar of envy.

Levi hadn’t thought about it initially. In his mind he knew you had a pack mark now but it hadn't crossed his mind that you'd ever want to show it to him. But as time went on he did get a little curious. Not enough to ask you about it but enough to start theorizing about where it might be.

Eventually you brought it up. Asked if he wanted to see it and with some coaxing you convinced him to let you show it to him. He was… embarrassed to say the least.

When you started unbuttoning your pants Levi started to freak out. You assumed this would happen so you tried not to pay it too much attention. Simply muttering a “calm down” and continuing your action of trying to show him the mark. Once you had pulled your pants down and turned your body to show the little mark Levi had taken it upon himself to cover his eyes with his hands.

“Levi come on, You're not gonna see anything.”

He mumbled something incoherent but with a bit more prying you got him to look at you. And as soon as his eyes made contact with his pact mark his face went a whole new shade of red.

“It's there!” He practically shouted while trying to avert his eyes again.

But now that he knew where the mark was he was having trouble keeping his eyes off of it. That seemed to be the way it was with most of the brothers and their pack marks, it was like they were drawn to them. Levi was certainly trying to fight that feeling however.

You laughed at the demon, and started to reach to put your pants back on. You thought you were sparing him the embarrassment or at least some of it but much to your surprise Levi stopped you before you could cover up again.

“Wait! Can you… can you let me look at it a little longer?”

Satan;

Satan's mark appeared on the inside of your wrist on your dominant hand. It was one of the most obvious places any of your pack marks had been thus far and truthfully that shouldn’t come as much of a shock.

He saw it right away. He tried to play it cool. He wasn't even that attached to you so why would he go crazy over a little pack mark. But if you paid close enough attention to him his eyes would linger on your wrist every chance he would get.

But when he actually gave in and took a moment to REALLY look at it he didn't even bother asking.

You found yourself situated comfortably in the library. Cozied up reading and enjoying your moment of peace. You were bound to get interrupted eventually but who interrupted you came as a bit of a shock.

“Y/n.”

Satan came to sit next to you on the sofa with the simple greeting and you put down what you were reading for a moment to see what he was going to do. He glanced at you for a moment before gesturing to a table on the other side of you.

“Would you hand me that book?” He asked.

You did as you were asked and handed him the little book that was sitting on the other side of you. When turning to hand it to him though you were stopped in your tracks when he grabbed your wrist and not the book.

“What are you—“

Your words died in your throat when you realized what he was doing. Satan's eyes were boring holes into your wrist, right where your pact mark was placed. His eyes tracing every curve and line of the mark.

You were content to let him do whatever he wanted so you both sat quietly for some time as he looked at the mark that bound you together.

Asmodeus;

His was below your belly button. It was fitting and when you realized where it was you knew there was no way you'd let him see it right away. Perhaps you wanted to tease him or maybe you just didn't feel comfortable enough yet. But no matter how fitting the placement was, you weren't showing him right away.

Asmo begged to see it. He had so many ideas of where it could be, and considering he couldn’t find it on any of your exposed skin, his ideas were getting worse and worse as time went on.

You eventually gave in and let him see it and he was in love immediately. He would not stop looking at it and cooing over how good it looked on you.

“Alright, fine!”

You were more than a little frustrated at Asmo’s constant begging but at this point you didn’t actually mind showing him the pack mark that much. So you might as well show him now and get it over with.

Asmo was very excited. You could tell just by looking at him that he was bubbling with anticipation and excitement. His eyes did not stop looking over you for even a second while you prepared yourself to show him the pack mark.

With a quick motion you lifted your shirt and adjusted your pants to expose the little mark. Asmos eyes widened way before he could even see the mark but when his eyes finally landed on it he let out a gasp. He was enamored by the little mark and he reached out to place his hands on your sides. It was as if he was making sure you weren't going to go anywhere.

“How has it taken you so long to show me this?” He whined.

You shook your head at him but said nothing. Deciding to let him marvel at the little mark for however long he’d behave.

Beelzebub;

His mark appeared on your left shoulder. You actually couldn’t find it at first. Like you knew one had appeal but you could not figure out where it was, but eventually you did catch sight of it. It was in a place that someone else could maybe see depending on what you were wearing but you yourself weren’t able to get a great look at it most of the time.

Beel hadn’t thought about it much. He kinda forgot you even had a pack mark for a while but even when the thought crossed his mind he didn't have the biggest urge to see it either.

He did see it eventually though. You didn't make a point to show him but you just so happened to be wearing something that shows off your shoulders and there it was. Beel was very nonchalant about it.

You had been looking for Beel for a while. You had to give him something from Lucifer and you were looking to get the errandend over quickly so you could go back to whatever it was you actually had planned for the day. And luckily for you you finally found Beel eating a snack in one of the sitting rooms.

“Beel, I have something for you.” You said striding over to where he sat.

He freed his hands momentarily to take whatever it was you were giving him but he didn’t look too thrilled with it.

“It’s from Lucifer… Obviously.”

You laughed as Beel’s face scrunched up at your words but you paid it no mind as you turned around and began walking out of the room. As your back was turned to him you weren't able to catch the face he made when his eyes came in contact with your pack mark. His eyes went wide for a moment and he tried to map out the mark before you really left the room.

He didn’t say anything, just quietly let you go as he stared a hole into your shoulder. He had never had any interest in seeing the little mark before. But now, well maybe he would ask to see the mark again some time in the future.

Belphegor;

His mark appeared on the top of your right foot. It wasn't center to your foot though, it was slightly to the outside of your body. You found it pretty quickly as you do have to take off your shoes and socks pretty regularly, but the mark wasn't so out there that someone would see it every day.

Belphie was curious and he asked you almost immediately where it was and if he could see it. He had no shame in the question and if you really didn’t want to show him you could always say no.

He was quite intrigued by it when he saw it. There was no way he was going to be genuine about that though. So he resorted to staring at it and making a snarky comment.

“So can I see it?”

You shrugged at Belphie’s request to see the pack mark. You’ve gone through this before and at this point you really didn’t mind showing him. So you sat down and took off your shoe, revealing the little mark on the top of your foot. Belphie looked at the mark with a strange look on his face, you almost wanted to ask what was up,but you kept the question to yourself as he continued to gaze at the mark.

“That's it?”

You rolled your eyes at him but he didn’t even look up so you assumed he didn’t even notice. You could tell he was actually quite interested in the mark and you know how he can be so you let him act that way. But if he wasn’t going to ask the question you assumed he wanted to then you would offer for him. You moved your foot closer to him which made him flinch and look up at you. You only gave him an exasperated look before gesturing to your foot with your hand and spoke.

“Go on, touch it.”

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writerpetals · 1 year

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remedy | 🔞

; optional female lead smut | ☁️

She looks too adorable in her pajamas (actually, your pajamas) that you just can’t leave her be. She sits with her legs crossed beneath her as the book her tired eyes scan over rests in her lap, and all you can focus on is the way the strap of her baby blue top has fallen from her shoulder and how her teeth nibble on her bottom lip when she concentrates.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” When she teases you, your eyes widen, not realizing she noticed you even while reading the chapter in her novel. A light-hearted giggle follows the words, her eyes shifting to you with a lick of her lips. “Like what you see?”

A smile spreads over your lips before you answer. “Of course.” Then you sigh, all grins fading as her brow wrinkles. “But…”

“But?” She asks, brows now rising.

“But…” The word lingers on your tongue for a moment, eyes rolling up in thought. “Well, you’ve been reading for a while, and…”

“And?” she asks again, snickering.

“…and I’m a bit bored. A bit lonely. Mostly cold and needy.” It’s true, and the pout on your lips confirms as she closes the book to toss to the coffee table in front of her, making sure not to knock over her empty mug that used to be full of hot chocolate.

“So, what should we do about that?” she asks, reaching to tug lightly against your flimsy, grey t-shirt. You follow the pull until your lips brush against her own with her breath hot against your cheek once she tilts her head.

“I had a few things in mind.” A sly grin forms at the corners of your mouth a second before her skin is pressed to your own, warming your entire body with just one touch as the smell of lavender fills your nose.

Once her back falls against the sofa you have ample room to fit snug between her parted thighs, soft moans beginning to be shared between you both as her fingers wrap firmly around your neck. You can’t help yourself, touching her is what you have been dying to do, so your palm presses to her thigh before slipping low enough to earn a whimper from her lips.

When your fingers press to her clothed center, her lips leave yours once her jaw falls open, another soft moan escaping her to fill your ears. You can’t help but to grin, slipping your fingers up and down to tease her through her pajamas, seconds before her hands lower down to your chest. Taking you by surprise, cold fingertips find their way beneath your shirt, brushing over your skin until her thumbs begin to tease two hardened nipples.

Your back arches to push your chest into her hands, inviting her to do as she wishes while you begin to tug on the elastic of her thin pajamas pants. Her fingers pinch and squeeze your nipples ever so lightly, drawing out a few gasps while making it difficult to concentrate on getting your hand between her thighs once again, yet you succeed after a moment to slip your palm over her slit, feeling the dampness of her growing arousal against your skin.

Her actions halt for a moment, getting lost in the way you touch her as her eyes flicker before fluttering to a close and her breaths catch in her throat. Your palm is replaced by two fingers slipping up and down her slit, teasing her gently beneath her pajamas while thankful she decided to forget her panties for the evening.

A steady stream of soft, delightful moans spill from her lips as you raise your body for a moment to take in her slacked jaw and eyes screwed shut, all the while reaching with your other hand to tug her loose pajama pants down her hips, giving yourself better access. Once the elastic is resting against her thighs, you finally notice the glistening of her juices against her skin, realizing how worked up she had become.

A smirk forms as you dip your head back down to her lips, silencing her noises of pleasure for a moment while pressing your fingers to her clit. Bliss fills her in the form of small circles against the swelling bud, drawing out each whimper against your lips she releases. It doesn’t take long for her moans to be accompanied by her rolling her hips to meet the friction between her thighs, and your patience begins to wear thin as you notice her struggling to clamp them around your hand.

“I can feel you getting so, so wet,” you tease her, lust dripping from every word as the ache between your own thighs grows. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold on, loving the way her face twists with pleasure and her body begs you for more, yet needing a release of your own just from watching her.

The moment you slip your fingers from her clit to ease inside of her, her legs tighten around your body, trembling as a subtle gasp hits your ears. Your mouth lowers to her jaw, pressing kisses here and there until your teeth scrape lightly across the skin of her neck, earning a breathy whimper of your name. By the time you’re curling your fingers inside of her you had already moved to her chest, thankful her top with the loose straps has already fallen off her shoulders to provide easy access for your lips to wrap around her hardened nipple after lowering the fabric just a bit more.

“I wanna-wanna come,” she exhales, hips moving against your hand in slow rolls once your thumb presses to her clit. Her nails dig into your side, letting you know just how good you’re making her feel even if her symphony of moans are enough validation. “I’m getting… getting close.” She becomes so breathless as you tease her nipples with flicks of your tongue while drawing her end closer, fingers curled inside of her to hit her most sensitive spot and thumb circling her aching, swollen clit.

You know she won’t last much longer, making your desire to fill her with pleasure rise as your mouth lowers down her body, pulling your hand from between her thighs only momentarily to earn a dissatisfied moan in return. However, once she catches on as you begin to peel the pajama bottoms from her body to toss to the floor, she remains content until the moment your tongue slips between her folds to taste her juices.

Breathy curses and gasps and whimpers fill the air as you part her thighs with both palms pressed against her heated skin, tongue circling her clit to draw out every single noise of pleasure she tries to hide behind a bitten lip. From the way she trembles against your hands, you know she’s getting closer and that’s when you decide to allow her to linger on the edge of ecstasy for a moment as you lower your motions to her dripping center, tasting her juices to watch her squirm while she becomes impatient.

“P-please,” she mutters a moment before you lick back up to her clit and circle the swollen bud once again. You focus all your attention on getting her off while watching her come undone before you. A final gasp fills the living room, her thighs tighten around you where even your hands can’t keep them apart, and her hips push against your eager mouth while you never stop sucking against her clit until the moment her body slacks before you.

You pull away grinning, wiping your mouth with a satisfied smirk as she lays breathless before you. You lick your lips of any remnants of her arousal before lowering yourself to kiss her lips once, and in attempting to pull away, she clutches your t-shirt just like before to pull you back in for seconds. A soft moan vibrates her skin from your lips, allowing her to taste herself on your tongue a few seconds before settling on your heels.

However, as she regains her mind and energy, a devilish grin forms on her lips, only a second before she’s rising to pull her flimsy top from her body to toss aside and leave her bare. She pushes you against the sofa before attacking your lips playfully, soft chuckling between the kiss while taking you by surprise.

“Clothes off,” she commands, though still slightly shaken from the pleasure once she begins to pull your t-shirt over your head, followed by her tugging on your thin pajama shorts.

You sit before her in nothing but a pair of skimpy, peach-colored panties, and she is quick to tug them aside with her finger hooking into the base of the fabric as she peppers kisses over your lips, cheek, and jaw. Your body melts into the couch, allowing her to have her way as her lips ghost over your neck the moment she reaches to tease your slit with a single finger.

“You’re already soaked, baby,” she informs you with a satisfied groan following, as if you weren’t aware how worked up you had gotten yourself pleasuring her. The ache between your thighs already warned you how much you would be dripping by the time she touched you, yet it came as a surprise to her.

Your only reply is a soft whimper of her name, hips pushing toward her to ask for more. The need for release grows and your entire body flushes with heat, desire, lust, once her fingers press to your clit.

“Tell me what you want,” she orders you, “let me hear you say it.”

She’s getting cocky, you think, knowing after reaching her end she is in a position to be, yet you can’t deny her request.

“Make me come,” you gasp, eyes shutting tight, head lolling back, “please. With your tongue.” Dying to receive the same treatment, you push all pride aside seconds before she dips her head lower, opening your eyes long enough to see the wicked smirk on her lips before her tongue darts out to lick a single stripe up your slit.

Your hips jerk in response, thighs threatening to close if it weren’t for steady palms pressed against them. She repeats the motion, earning soft moans in return when her tongue finds your clit to slip up and down, if only to tease. However, you find it hard to care when bliss fills you instantly, loving the way she knows exactly what you like as she performs slow, steady circles around and around.

The same stream of noises slip from your lips you previously earned from her, gently rocking your hips against her tongue to get lost in the pleasure she offered. Your hands lowered to cup your own breasts as soft whimpers of her name mixed with curses filled the room, feeling her tongue quicken with its pace around your clit.

Just as you’re slipping away to heaven with her mouth against your skin, she surprises you by lining up two fingers to ease them inside your clenched walls, curling the digits a moment later. A gasp spills from within, back arching from the sofa as your hands lower to entangle fingers into strands of her hair.

She realizes your end is near as she continues to gently pump her fingers against the spot that has you seeing stars, tongue working against your clit before her lips wrap around to lightly suck the swollen, aching bud. Your jaw slacks. Your body trembles. Your eyes remain shut tight and the noises you release fade into silence as the first rush of bliss swells and surges through you.

Every limb, finger, and toe tingles with electricity and she never pulls her mouth away as you ride out the pleasure against her tongue and fingers. Moans and gasps and whimpers pour from your lips a moment later, getting lost in the ecstasy, getting lost in the moment, and getting lost in the way that she knows to love you best.

When she finally pulls away, you’re left breathless and motionless on the sofa, other than your thighs still quivering as the remnants of pleasure trickle through your body. Your mind is a mess and between your thighs even more so, knowing the both of you need a hot, relaxing shower to come down before bed.

“So, still bored, lonely, cold, and needy?” she asks with words taunting you with every syllable and a teasing grin. You quickly shake your head, chuckling while staring up at her behind sleepy eyes.

“Of course not,” you quickly reply, leaning forward to grip her by the waist and pull her close. “Well, maybe a little cold. But that’s nothing we can’t fix together.”

Her lips lingering on yours after you finish speaking sparks the warmth you need inside of you with a kiss, knowing that whatever the problem is - whether you’re bored, lonely, cold, or needy - she is always the remedy.

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scythesms · 11 months

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Edmund visited his wife in the sickhouse several times a day. His visits were guaranteed in the morning before eating breakfast with the children, at noon before leaving for the bank or railways, and after returning home just before the sun went down. With each stay, he tried his best to uplift his wife, which proved to be more challenging as time went on. It was only a matter of time before he’d get lost in his thoughts.

Rosalyn didn’t mean to pull him away from his concerns when reaching for him. She disliked it when he concealed his emotions for fear of passing on the dread. She was more than aware of the cloud that followed their family around and only wished he’d talk about mourning his father or his lingering fear that his mother would soon follow due to her dormant state.

He moved from the stool to sit by her side, where he marveled at his wife. His heart ached with how much he adored her. Even in recovery from a year of affliction, she was as lovely as ever. Every time he’d tell her of her beauty, she’d feign no surprise.

After several years of marriage, eye contact with her was as piercing as ever. He never wanted to look away and prayed he’d never have to. In contrast, her concerns rose to the surface as she stared into his. Edmund noticed the shift in her attitude when her smile dimmed and her eyes lowered focus.

“I need to speak with you.”

While he sensed the severity in her tone, there was next to nothing he could assume as serious as her current state.

Rosalyn spoke quickly, in fear of her lips maneuvering away from the truth as she’d impulsively done so many times before. “I’ve mentioned my old gardener once or twice. Franklin. His boy… I wasn’t entirely honest with you about…” She paused to gauge his reaction or lack thereof. “We weren’t friends, but more.”

There wasn’t a twitch in his jaw or a subtle shift in his eyes. His features remained slack as he waited for her to continue.

She gradually delved deeper into her immature relationship with the gardener’s son. They’d been friends longer than they hadn’t, but their relationship progressed soon after her sixteenth birthday. Just before her seventeenth, the couple planned to run away together. Strangely, it’d been the same week her father summoned her to seek Edmund’s hand in marriage. When she cried to her lover over her father’s demands, he begged her to leave with him at once. She objected, terrified by the haste. By the time she changed her mind, he was already gone. Her only reach to him was through the letters he sent his father. She admitted to reading them as if they were written to her, up until they stopped arriving.

The week she’d learned of his sudden death, Edmund appeared at her door and agreed to marry her.

Edmund reeled the new information in. He assumed she’d had a few suitors before marrying him. The secrecy and look of shame that came with the reveal troubled him most.

He asked, “Why have you never told me about him?”

“In the same sense that you never speak of her.”

Edmund’s arm around her went frigid.

“We’ve both loved before this marriage,” Rosalyn confessed.

“I don’t understand-”

“The woman you couldn’t quite speak to at the flower stand, just before our wedding. You loved her. I knew as much.”

Edmund stared at Rosalyn. It’d been so long ago. He assumed she’d remember the encounter with her as well as the woman who tried to sell them flowers. He should’ve known better.

“What I couldn’t distinguish was her name,” she admitted.

Edmund shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t,” he disagreed. “I haven’t thought of her in years. This doesn’t-”

“Edmund,” Rosalyn pleaded. “What was her name?”

He pondered for a moment. “Imogene.”

“Fitting,” she hummed. “Names hold importance.”

…“You haven’t said his.”

Rosalyn glanced at the ceiling, proving her response to be the answer he’d been looking for since she first asked to speak with him - the reason behind her uneasiness.

Finally, she confessed, “I named our first son after him.”

Her eyes snapped back to his, but he’d already looked away as he took in this revelation that left him disoriented. “I don’t understand.”

He remained quiet for some time.

Rosalyn asked him to share his thoughts, whether or not they were loud and bitter. She sought to know if he wondered about the life he could’ve had if not for her intervention.

Edmund looked at her, once more. He had no desire to yell or let out spiteful lashings, nor did he consider what life would be without her. He wished she wouldn’t, either. He asked her to withhold her apologies. By no means was he pleased with what she’d done, but he was quick to accept the fact that there was no use in getting upset.

“I won’t accept that,” she argued. “I owe you a thousand apologies.”

“I forgive you a thousand times.” He ignored her angst. “I don’t want you to bear any more guilt from this matter. Every decision we’ve made led us to each other. Our past lovers are just that - past lovers, not to be forgotten or repented. We both fell victim to living for our parents - I see that now more than ever. Moving forward, what I want most is for you to recover so we can watch our children live the lives they choose.”

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#1914 #Ambroise Legacy #1910s #sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 historical #decades challenge #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #ts4 challenge #black simblr #sims stories #AL #Edmund Ambroise #Rosalyn Ambroise

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defectivevillain · 1 year

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schoolyard shenanigans

pairing: donnie x reader

reader’s pronouns: unspecified but masc-intended

summary: April and you have tackled far worse things than a school dance. Surely, things can’t go that badly... right? Unfortunately, the universe seems intent on proving you wrong.

“We’ve fought monsters, destroyed robots...” You trail off, after noticing the worried expression on April’s face. The two of you stop just before the doors of the school and stare up at the building. A large Homecoming banner is draped over the front. You’re slightly nervous, but you’re sure the feeling is nowhere near April’s stress. She’s been dreading this dance for weeks, from what you can remember.

“School dances are way worse than all of those things,” April responds, crossing her arms over her chest. You put a hand on her shoulder in sympathy. She takes a deep breath and clenches her fists at her sides, before turning to look at you. “Let’s go. We’ve got this!”

“You know, this whole thing feels a bit fishy,” you remark as you walk. April seems to be too distracted to notice the statement, however, as she stares at the parade float and other decorations with wonder. You’re about to bump into her shoulder and repeat yourself when you see Dale walk over to you both.

“Hey guys,” Dale says, greeting the both of you. He’s wearing a purple dress shirt and slacks. He looks a bit flustered and discombobulated. You can’t help but compare his outward stress to April’s—she seems to know how to hide it better. “Say, have you seen Taylor anywhere around here?”

“Taylor?” April asks, her eyes lighting up. “No, we’re looking for her also. She invited us to sit with her!” April’s enthusiasm is nearly contagious, and you have to resist the urge to match her smile. Truly, you don’t give two shits about Taylor, but you know that April wants to get to know her in order to fit in better.

“Hey, she invited me too!” Dale chips excitedly. April freezes and glances at you. You grimace. Indeed, this whole Taylor situation feels incredibly strange. Something must be going on here. April sighs deeply and motions for you to follow her into the building. Together, the three of you enter the gymnasium. To your surprise, there isn’t a single person making eye contact. They’re all looking down at their phones with hypnotized gazes.

Dale is quick to join in on the madness, as he downloads Hippo Crush—the game Taylor is raving about—and sits down at the table. You and April exchange worried glances before turning down to look at your phone. To your surprise, when you go to look at the application, a miniature Donnie avatar appears on your screen and tells you off. You look at April and grimace.

“There’s definitely something wrong here, April,” you say, pulling her to her feet after you. The two of you enter the hallway, only to find a weirdly organized formation of students walking in a line with their eyes glued to their phones. You take a deep breath and decide to follow after them. April is quick to join you. The two of you join the line of people and walk into the auditorium. Moments later, the entire group is seated. Thankfully, April and you sit next to each other. Trepidation coils in your chest as you look at the empty stage. Almost as if on command, a confident voice breaks through the tense silence.

“Everyone, put your hands together for... Hypno-Potamus!” To your horror, a mutant hippopotamus stands on stage. He glances about the audience with greedy eyes, as if soaking in the attention that everyone is giving him. It takes everything you have not to gasp out loud as he continues speaking. April seems to be in a similar state of shock, as her jaw is nearly wide open.

Hypno-Potamus summons a mascot of sorts and prattles on about a disappearing act. April and you are quick to jump up from your seats and bolt to the nearest exit. Unfortunately, the hippopotamus seems to notice your departure and spotlights focus on the two of you with bright intensity.

“Oh, what’s this?” The magician remarks, staring at the two of you. April tries to pretend to be under mind control, but she breaks character within a few seconds with a disgruntled mumble about it being whack. You huff out a laugh and grab at the door, quickly running out into the hallway. “Get them!” Hypno-Potamus’s voice can be heard echoing throughout the auditorium.

What follows is the weirdest ten minutes of your entire life. April and you race through the halls, running from a hypnotized mob of students. You duck and hide in a classroom, some lockers, anywhere that you can hide. Unfortunately, your classmates are rather adept at following after you and, after a few minutes of chasing, the two of you are cornered. The group’s pink eyes burn into your skin, as they hold up their phones and try to enchant you into getting the game. Thankfully, Mayhem—the strange creature that seems to have taken a liking to April—appears before long and you are whisked away to safety.

As if things aren’t weird enough, Leo and Donnie burst through the wall on the parade float from earlier. They grab the two of you and together, you escape from the crowd of enchanted teenagers. April and you leave Leo and Donnie to fight Hypno while the two of you collect all of the magician’s top hats. Mayhem comes to save the day and teleports Hypno away from the school. April drives the golf cart around the grounds in a pseudo victory lap. Leo and Donnie join the two of you moments later, wicked smiles on their faces.

“So, April, I was wondering if you had a date for the next dance...” Dale breaks off. April doesn’t even let him finish that sentence. You let out a strangled laugh disguised as a cough. Leo looks throughly amused at the lovestruck expression on the boy’s face. Donnie has his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows are raised.

“Not now, Dale,” April sighs. This time, you can’t quite hide a smile. Somehow, Dale doesn’t look too put out by her refusal. Instead, he turns to look at you of all people. There’s something in his gaze that makes your stomach turn. He takes a step forward, which you quickly match with a step backwards.

“How about you-?” Dale tries to say, only to be interrupted once more. This time, April isn’t the one to interrupt him. Instead, it’s Donnie that places a firm hand on his head.

“Absolutely not,” Donnie says, firmly turning him around with the grip he has on his head. Dale obediently follows and swivels around to walk away. You watch him walk away, unable to shake the feeling of relief coursing through you.

“Thanks for that,” you grin at Donnie. There’s a momentary flicker of irritation and annoyance on Donnie’s face as he stares at Dale’s retreating figure, but it quickly fades when he returns your gaze.

“No problem,” Donnie responds quickly, suddenly averting his gaze. You hear Leo snort out a laugh at April’s side. You’re not quite sure what his amusement is all about. Donnie seems significantly stressed. “You... look nice, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you respond, looking down at your clothes. You’re wearing a dress shirt and slacks—similar to Dale—but, thankfully, it’s a comfortable outfit. You decided to take inspiration from April and wear sneakers to complete the look. April was thrilled about that, you recall with a smile.

“Say, um,” Donnie stammers, breaking you out of your thoughts. He seems uncharacteristically nervous about something. You raise an eyebrow at him and he takes a deep breath. “The next dance, if you wanted, I could go with you.” You look at him in surprise.

“Just, you know, to protect you. Well, no, not that you need protecting. It’s just...” Donnie shakes his head in evident disbelief. For a long moment, you watch as he buries his face in his hands and mumbles about something. The tense silence drags on for a seemingly infinite amount of time. Eventually, clarity passes over Donnie’s face and he sighs. “Never mind.”

“What?” You ask, but Donnie seems thoroughly embarrassed. He doesn’t explain anything, instead deigning to bury his head in his hands once more. You turn to look at Leo and April for help, only to find them wearing twin expressions of mischief on their faces. Thankfully, the awkward tension doesn’t last too long, as Leo proclaims that the four of you should go for pizza. Together, all of you walk away from the school. The two brothers walk a bit ahead, and you watch with confusion as Leo thumps Donnie on the shoulder in what must be a reassuring gesture. Donnie simply groans. You glance at April for some answers, but she just sends you a knowing smile.

#defectivevillain #tmnt #rise tmnt #tmnt rise #tmnt x reader #tmnt x male reader #donnie x reader #donnie x male reader #tmnt x gn reader #gn reader #masc reader #male reader #other tags im probably forgetting

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jinmukangwrites · 10 months

Note

I found a key with LU Hyrule?

Hey don't cry, AO3 down drabble prompts

---

"Remind me to never go in strange caves with you again," Twilight grumbled while he ran his hands over the door that sealed shut behind the two of them. They had found themselves trapped, inexplicably, in some random dungeon while looking for some water suitable for bathing.

"Honestly I'm just surprised you agreed to follow me in the first place," Hyrule shugged, walking to the opposite side of the stone room while Twilight released a halfhearted growl.

There was another door at the end, one that he found easily slid open with some force. Twilight swore behind him. "What are you doing?!"

"Clearly, the only way out is forward," Hyrule said.

"That doesn't make sense."

"Usually works for me?"

Twilight looked up at the ceiling of the cave like Hylia herself was up there to shrug and apologize.

He poked his head into the neighboring room, then swung a fire spell off his sword. He grinned as he got a lucky shot on a pier at the center of the room, alighting a small fire and illuminated the area.

It also activated a series of spikes built into the floor, they rose and fell with deadly force, creating a promised dance with risk itself. He poked his head in further, then yanked himself back as a ball of spikes slammed across the wall, stopping right at the beginning of the doorway, before slowly retreating back to the corner it had been hiding in. Finally, there was a chest at the far side of the room.

"Nope," Twilight said. "Nope. We can dig ourselves out."

"It doesn't look too hard," Hyrule replied, studying the room, the patterns, the risk verses reward.

"Don't even think about it. I'd go gray and Wild will kill you for making me gray before he can."

Up. Down. Up. Hyrule placed a foot back a bit. Down. He took a deep breath, ignoring Twilight's worried ranting. Up.

He dashed.

He could hear Twilight shout his name, his voice cracking at the rule part. He didn't pay much attention to it, however, he had to quickly get away from the walls before the spiked balls slammed into him. He jumped on some spike traps as they went down, then sprinted to a different set as those went up and the new ones went down. He went diagonal, backtracked a bit, hopped across what was obviously some sort of trapped tile. Honestly, it was childsplay.

Eventually, he made it to the chest and jumped on the pressure plate before it. The spikes gave one final shink, then sunk into the ground. Hyrule sung a victorious tune to himself before reaching into the chest and grinning at his prize.

He turned. "I found a key!"

Twilight stood staring at him, still within the doorway. His jaw was slack.

Hryke paused. "What?"

Twilight, then brought his hands to his hair and started looking through the threads. "Here! Gray!"

Hyrule laughed, walking casually back toward his companion, swinging the key around his fingers. "Only one hair? I was aiming for more than that."

"I am sure there's more. I'm going to have nightmares about that."

Hyrule shrugged, grinning, as the two of them went back to the door, fit in the key, and stood back as the door opened. "Hey, if it makes you feel better, there was also a blue ruppee in the chest."

Twilight brought his hands to his face and groaned. "Never again. I am never going into a cave with you again."

#linked universe #hero of hyrle #hero of twilight #fanfiction #jin writes

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atsukawolfcat · 2 years

Text

Recurring Dream - Part 1

Notes: Something random cuz why not?

Warning: Angst, little comfort, gender-neutral reader, torture mentioned, death implied, let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1 (You are here) | Part 2

Masterlist

"I believe in you, guys. We can kick this big guy down!!" You said with a bit of conviction as your team dealt damage to the last enemy in the domain you were clearing to get the primogems. Finally getting the enemy down and getting the completion rewards, you sat back in your chair and sighed. 'I should probably go to bed, it's late now, and I have stuff to do early tomo- HOLY SKITTLES' You got up quickly at seeing your clock reading 1:19AM, hitting the heels of your feet against the legs of your chair and painfully doing the dance around your room. Once the pain faded, you inhaled and looked at your bed, pondering over if you could maybe do one more domain run before bed. Groaning, you decided it wasn't worth being late. After making sure your electronics were charging, and you brushed your teeth, you begrudgingly got into bed and made yourself cozy. 'After I get everything done and come home, I should get a couple more domain runs... in...' You nodded and fell asleep, unaware of the glitching effect on your electronics after you closed your eyes.

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

You felt a bit uncomfortable, the bed seemingly being very stiff and like it was made of a mix of materials, like straw and feathers. After the sharp pain of something poking your legs, you got up with a start. You were startled by the room before you since it wasn't yours. 'Who.. where? Where am I? The style looks familiar..' You looked down and noticed you were not wearing the clothing you had on before falling asleep; now, it was replaced by an outfit that even you were pleasantly surprised at the comfiness and the style fitting you. It reminded you of the clothes of Genshin Impact, more specifically, the characters of Mondstadt. Wait...

"Hello, your Grace. I am glad to see you have awoken." Jean and Diluc entered the room, almost giving you a heart attack. 'faligbthablifuef WHY ARE THEY SO BEAUTIFUL? AM I DREAMING? THIS HAS TO BE A DREAM' You were practically screaming internally as they slowly approached you and bowed. "We had found you in the outskirts of our town and were worried you were hurt. Luckily, Barbara has not seen any injuries on you, but we are happy that you are safe." 'Welp, if this is a dream, very vivid. It must be because of all those awesome SAGAU fics I found on Tumblr that I binged in a week...'

You coughed, trying to get rid of your anxiety that was quickly piling up, and smiled. "Uhm, thank- thank you? I just have a question." They both looked up, their beautiful blue and ruby eyes expecting the question and looking like the so-called loyal 'acolytes' as the fics called them. You chilled at the thought of that, now beginning to see the possible harm. " Where exactly... am I? And who are you two?" You knew the answer, considering it's Jean and Diluc, but even if this was a dream, you were no fool after realizing what possibilities there were and how highly likely it was for you to be chased around and hunted like an animal.

Their eyes widened, and they quickly looked at each other. Clearing his throat, Diluc was the one to respond first. " You are in Mondstadt, your Grace. In the world of Teyvat, or in your previous world, better known as Genshin Impact... a game." He gritted the last part out as if disliking the fact he even had to say it. Your eyes widened, and your jaw slacked open.

Did he just confirm self-aware Genshin Impact???? What??

This is a dream; there was no way a game character could be self-aware like these two in front of you. Diluc smiled gently, a blush forming on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and continued, "Yes, Your Grace. We could hear you and how much you wanted some of us to drop when an event banner updated and how much fun you had completed the side missions and special events with some celebrated people." He coughs, seemingly aware and now shy from your unending stare. "And we also heard you... erm... beg for some of us to show ourselves when you pulled. When you used your special currency to wish for us." You quickly felt a warmth surfacing to your entire face.

Jean was smiling, also seemingly getting redder, as Diluc explained. "We are aware that we were mere dolls or characters to you and many others. Our world is that of a game. Perhaps it was," she looked into your eyes, sincerity deep within her eyes, "however, we are not. We are aware of your presence and kindness. Your anger, sadness, and desperation when things do not happen as you wish. So... we thought.." She coughed, Diluc glancing between you as if telling Jean to continue.

"We wish to show you... the other side of your screen." They both straightened and, in sync, continued. "Welcome to Teyvat, our dear Creator."

What?

Nope.

You felt your skin crawl at the sound of that last word. Your face paled, and you quickly looked away from them while placing your hand over your mouth to stop gagging. The soft rustle of clothing was heard from their direction, but you didn't care about that with one single word ringing in your head.

Imposter.

Imposter!

Imposter!!!

You held back a scream as the ringing in your head suddenly felt like it was about to crack open. It felt as if a sledgehammer was hitting your brain, from all sides. Diluc and Jean were talking to you and between themselves, and you were able to hear them both order other people to get medics here ASAP.

Imposter! Traitor!

Traitor!

How dare you take their place!

A crash could be heard from the window behind you, but you weren't paying attention.

You

are

not

our

CREATOR!!

The voice sounded livid as if they were trying to scream into your soul and burn their anger into you. With each word the pounding in your head grew worse and worse, making you scream in agony.

You shall not take their identity!

You shall not!

Imposter!

The voice grew only louder and more familiar. As you clutched your head, you felt someone gently place their hands on your shoulders, and over the noise in your brain, could faintly hear someone tell you to focus on your surroundings.

"Ahhhhh!!!!!! I can't- can't! It's too loud!!! Make it stop!!!!!! MAKE IT STOP!!!" You yelled and whimpered, still holding your head as the voice suddenly multiplied to several voices.

Imposter! Imposter! Thief! Liar!

You are no great Deity!

You shall die for your sin.

Your vision blurred, and black spots slowly appeared. They multiplied until finally, all you could see was darkness. You sobbed, panic enveloping your entire body as your heart raced at the possibility of your eyesight being taken from you.

Then faintly, a light appeared, growing in size as you finally tried to feel around you and ground yourself. As it grew, you noticed it wasn't just a light.

They were images.

Of yourself and your favorite characters, including Diluc and Jean. Cold gazes pierced you as you were on your knees, shackles on your hands, feet, and neck. Tears were flowing from your eyes, as they reflected both sadness and fear.

More images flashed before your eyes, and you finally clicked two and two together. Memories flushed into your mind, each a painful stab into your heart and mind. You heard Diluc ordering someone to bring a syringe to administer. Survival instinct took over as you grabbed everything and anything near you, the slice of their weapons fresh on your skin once more, and threw the items in their direction.

"NO! NO! NO! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!!! PLEASE!!" You stumbled as you tried to get up from the plush bed and finally opened your eyes again to see their guilt-ridden faces. You scrambled to place as much distance from them as possible, and when you looked at your body once more...

It was marred with golden scars.

You got to the further corner of the room, staring with wide eyes at the culprits behind the scars decorating your body. The almost healed bruises of your wrists and ankles told you it wasn't that long ago that they had done all those... things to you. You gasped at the last memory you received.

It was of you, your head lowered to the ground by force from someone's foot. Then, from the corner of your eye, you see Diluc and Ei raise their weapons. Ei aimed for your heart, while Diluc aimed for your neck. You closed your tear-stricken eyes as you felt both of them slash down to their targets. The pain was too much, and the last you heard was multiple gasps of surprise.

You were sobbing and hiccuping, your hands trailing over your chest and neck to feel the thin lines that their weapons had made. Your throat tighened as you hyperventilated, and although you tried to ground yourself again, it was far too late. You had a hard time breathing and gasping for air as your hands came up to your throat and tears spilled down your cheeks.

You lost consciousness as Jean raced over to catch you. Diluc grit his teeth as his fists tightened by his side. "This has been the 4th time... I am so sorry, Your Grace", he said, voice full of remorse and sadness. They had witnessed you wake up and go unconscious for days since the "trial", and the scars they had made were permanently on your skin, taunting them over their wicked deeds to you. The person who had done nothing but give them happiness.

And they repaid your kindness with despair.

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin sagau #wolfcatposts #genshin #genshin impact angst #Recurring Dreams series

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georgemackayhey · 1 year

Note

Hello! I love your content! Could you do some Bo Cash stuff? Preferably the fluffy, romantic stuff?

Bo Cash content incoming ..... I've always kind of had this blurb in the back of my mind so thank you for giving me a reason to bring it to life! Keeping it short bc I'm pressed for time but if yall want follow up to this blurb pls let me know!

___

You'd saw him stretching toward the afternoon sun, contorting his figure into poses by the pool side. He was lean and fit and striking, too beautiful to be in a rundown place like this. Too beautiful to be in your presence, you thought.

"Bo! I stole dinner!" I voice little and far off called, and the man you'd been admiring turned at the sound of what must have been his name. You peered on as the man stretched to stand and shuffled out of your sight.

Sipping your tea, you pretended to occupy your time with the laundry on the line, and counted down the days until you were meant to leave here. You'd applied to university and had just received an acceptance letter in the mail a day ago. One piece of paper changed the direction of your life, yet your day went on the same as so many before it.

No matter why you'd wound up occupying the little camper van on the dullest side of the city, your days there finally became numbered, and nothing thrilled you more to know.

///

Bo cursed Rell, he'd only just gotten started stretching his limbs that day. And he'd barely gotten a good glimpse of you, the only reason he started yoga by the pool was so that he might have seen you out, that day. But Bo's stomach grumbled, so he turned toward dinner and hoped he could find a way close toward you by next sunset.

///

You sat out by the pool after a long night of planning your future. Planning what to pack and who to tell and how to make enough money to get you to where you planned on going. There was a book in your lap and a drink in your hand and a quiet in the night. The pool was far enough away from most campsites that it felt like a retreat, and close enough to yours that it wasn't a trek to get to. So the quiet was expected. Aside from the croaking of tree frogs in the distance, and a few cars rumbling down the far off freeway... nothing. So when the sound of the pool gate clattered, you turned in surprise.

Your jaw slacked ever so slightly when you saw him. Bo, the man you'd been staring at from across the campsite for a day or two now. He was finally right where you'd hoped you'd find him, alone with you.

///

Bo wasn't thinking when he stormed off, only trying to find space to clear his head. His frustrations and fears fogged his thoughts as he stomped toward the usually empty poolside. And when he looked up and saw you there, every worry and wonder faded from his head. All he saw was you. Finally.

///

"I'm sorry to interrupt I-" He stood awkwardly by the pool gate, assessing the way you sat. You snapped the book in your lap shut, and sat up perhaps too eagerly.

"You don't have to leave." You noted quickly, watching no change in the man's stance or uncertain expression. "It would be nice to have some company, for once." You boldly declare, letting a blush get the better of you all the while.

"Okay." He seemed to decide after a moment's consideration. You watch the man you'd been admiring move toward you, a caution in his step, an intensity in his gaze. His eyes fell too your lap and he asked what you were reading.

"Oh just some biography about a pianist. Glenn Go-"

"Glenn Gould?"

"Yeah, actually."

The man gleamed, seemingly enchanted. "I love him." He admitted. You sat there grinning just as wide, trying to comprehend just how divine this interaction felt. Like life had been leading up to this moment. Like life had been leading up to meeting...

"What is your name?" You wondered. Because you thought you knew it but didn't want to seem like some sort of creep that had been watching him from across the park for a handful of days...

"Bo. Yours?"

And after you'd told Bo what to call you, the floodgates slammed open and were torn off their imaginary hinges. The two of you didn't stop conversing for what felt like hours and hours on end. You were impressed by his vast knowledge, the shreds of it he shared in just this short time alone. You were taken aback by his honesty, listening with respectful intensity when he told you the exact events that led him and his family here tonight. You spoke assuredly when he asked you questions, because you could tell he was really listening to your answers.

There was a desperation to your interaction. Like you had only this one night to get to know Bo, and one chance to make an impression on him. But conversation flowed so easily, and the man sat so relaxed in the chair beside yours that time seemed to stall, and the air felt easier to breath all the while.

Then you asked Bo exactly why he'd come to the pool to escape at this odd hour of the night.

And he told you he'd gotten accepted into university, and had a big fight with his father about the ordeal. And then you asked him which university. And Bo revealed he'd been accepted to the same place you had been.

"I don't know what I'll do. How I'll get there. Or if I'll even be a realistically good fit. I just don't know..."

"Well one fact is for certain," You smiled at him. "If you wind up there, you'll have a friend waiting."

When you told Bo you had been accepted into the same school, he locked his stunning crystal eyes on yours and let his smiled grow wide as you'd seen it yet.

"Divine intervention. It must be." His words were softly spoken, and caused your body to buzz with excited wonder.

"If you need a way there, I leave in three days."

"I-I couldn't pay you. I wouldn't be any help at all." Bo sighed. He spoke a bit more about how frustrated he'd become with his parents for failing to prepare him for the real world. For how lost and hopeless he believed himself to be, despite quickly proving himself to be one of the more remarkable being you'd ever encountered.

"Come with me. Three days from now it won't matter what we do or don't know. It'll be a fresh start. Wanna?"

"But I-"

"Bo, yes or no. That's all you need to say." You smiled, leaning in closer toward his chair as he shifted there. The man you'd been shortly but intensely fascinated with started to nod, like he was winding up to answer for real.

"Yes. I'll go with you." Bo smiled and it was grin so stunning, it could've knocked you dead.

"I could use the company." You called back, making the both of you chuckle.

"Me too." Bo said. You soon gathered your drink and book, and let Bo promise he'd meet you poolside in three days' time. This new start just became all the more exciting.

#bo cash #bodevan cash #george mackay #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic #bo cash fanfic

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angel-0f-verdun · 9 months

Text

4 Lone Wolf

Previous Chapter

"Alright, beautiful, now moving swiftly along." The lieutenant said, nodding to the personnel near the door to turn the lights off. They did so and closed the blinds to prepare us for a film. My eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly and I pulled out a small pocket-sized notebook just in case it would be required for notes. Unlike Maverick I took pride in my studies and enjoyed the opportunity for learning.

"During Korea, the Navy kill ratio was 12 to one. We shot down 12 of their jets for every one of ours. During Vietnam, that ratio fell to three to one. Our pilots became dependent upon missiles, they had lost some of their dogfighting skills. Top Gun was created to teach ACM, air combat maneuvering. Dogfighting, if you will. At the end of Vietnam, that ratio was back up to 12 to one." The lecture he gave was quick, but he showed examples of dogfighting on the small TV at the front of the classroom. I smiled knowing that this was what we were going to be perfecting here with the program.

"Blinds, please. Now I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce you to our commanding officer at Top Gun. The very first man to win the Top Gun trophy. You will not find a finer fighter pilot anywhere in the world. Commander Mike Metcalf. Callsign, Viper." The doors we had come through not 30 minutes ago reopened to reveal a grizzled officer probably in his mid-50s by now. He walked through the aisle looking at every one of us with an intensity that I couldn't describe. When he got to the front, he turned towards us.

"Gentlemen," He paused looking directly at Doe and I.

"And ladies… I apologize, it is the first time we have had women in this program. Though I'm certain you will live up to your callsigns." He continued with a bit of discontent in his tone. I actively stopped my jaw from dropping at his remark. I had been expecting this, but not from a commander. Well, it was no real surprise to me that we would have to prove ourselves to everyone who did not want us here. It was a brand-new concept for many of the old command.

"All of you are the top one percent of all naval aviators, the elite, the best of the best, otherwise you wouldn't be here. We'll make you better. You'll fly at least two combat missions a day, attend classes in between, and receive evaluations of your performance."

"Top Gun is not an opportunity to slack off, get drunk, and go on romantic outings." He added as he saw Iceman grinning ear to ear. The smile was quickly wiped from his face, his head snapping back to his notes as his fingers twirled the pen he held.

"It is an opportunity, that your commanding officers thought you fit to journey on. Now, in each combat sequence, you're going to meet a different challenge. Every encounter is going to be much more difficult. We're going to teach you to fly the F-14 right to the edge of the envelope. Faster than you've ever flown before and more dangerous. Now, we don't make policy here, gentlemen, elected officials, and civilians do that. We are the instruments of that policy." He paused, I saw Maverick look at Iceman and they locked eyes, glaring at each other.

"And although we are not at war, we must always act as though we are at war." I'm sure he felt he made his point among everyone present as he started walking again towards the back of the room. I turned to face where he was.

"What are you doing?" Goose leaned over to Maverick asking him the question in a whispered tone. I rolled my eyes knowing this could only lead to my annoyance growing.

"The tip of the spear." Viper continued.

"I'm just wondering who's the best," Maverick answered Goose's question with an arrogant remark.

"In case some of you wonder who the best is, here, they're up here on this plaque on the wall. The best driver and his RIO from each class has his name on it." Viper turned back around facing the front and walking towards the whiteboard. He had no doubt heard Maverick's question and answered it amused.

"And they have the option to come back here to be Top Gun instructors. You think your name's going to be on that plaque?" He turned to face Maverick who was tracking him delicately with his eyes now, no longer distracted.

"Yes sir." He answered him quite confidently.

"That's pretty arrogant considering the company you're in," Viper replied to him, gesturing around the room at all the other pilots that were now in competition with each other.

"Yes sir." He said again looking briefly down towards the floor and back up to Viper.

"I like that in a pilot," Viper said, a trace of a smile on his face.

"Remember when it's over out there, we're all on the same team. Gentlemen this school is about combat. There are no points for second place. Dismissed." He said finishing his monologue, and letting us go about our business. I gathered my things again, putting my notebook and pen away in my front pocket. I got up quickly ready to leave the room with Doe right behind me. Maverick and Goose following, I couldn't stand the testosterone that was practically oozing from these feral pre-pubescent males.

"The plaque for the alternates is down in the ladies' room." Iceman joked with everyone, Goose let out a hysterical fake laugh. I continued forward not wanting to stay and came up with a witty reply. I let out a breath when I exited the room standing off to the side with Doe as we waited for Maverick and Goose.

"Oh Jesus, oh you kill me, you really do. But watch out for Reaper, man, she'll put you down fast and hard. Make no mistake, these ladies have balls bigger than you've got hanging between your legs." Goose told Iceman and the others, who immediately quieted upon hearing his remark. When Maverick and Goose walked out they immediately started leading the way. I was almost positive that Stinger had put in our applications for housing ahead of us leaving the ship.

"So where are we heading?" I asked the two men ahead of us.

"Stinger pulled some strings and got us a house we can occupy for the months that we're here. Seems like we'll all be together since he couldn't find two separate houses. It's 4 bedrooms and 2 baths so we all get our own room. He specifically mentioned no funny business, Mav." Goose replied to me, calling Maverick out. Maverick let out a light-hearted laugh shaking his head as we traversed one of the parking lot keys in hand. He walked up to a Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle, sticking the key in the ignition. I watched as Maverick loaded his bags to the back of it, securing them down tightly so they wouldn't budge.

"You bastard, you had your bike delivered?" Goose asked him.

"That I did, you jealous?" He asked him, as he retrieved his aviator sunglasses and put them on. Goose simply stood there in awe of his friend and retrieved his own keys clicking the button to reveal his car a couple of rows away.

"Sounds amazing." I smiled happily as Maverick started the engine of the bike.

"You want a ride?" He asked me pleasantly surprised I had taken an interest in his mode of transportation. I nodded but stopped myself.

"I would, but let's get back to the house first, and then we'll talk about that later… Maybe you can take me down to the coast?" I asked him, just wanting to get to the house and relax for a bit. I left his side and went back towards Goose and Doe. We walked to Goose's 1985 Ford Bronco. When he unlocked it I opened the door and looked inside, I immediately wondered if I had made the right decision, there was not much room in the back for me.

"Goose, did Stinger get me a car? I can't help but notice there's no room for me." I told him, he smiled at me and took out another set of keys from his backpack throwing them to me. I caught them with ease.

"The arrangement had been made to have your Corvette brought out." He said, I smiled pushing the button to locate the car. It was a few spaces over from Goose's. I tried to contain my excitement upon seeing the car again. It was a sleek black model that I loved dearly and had in storage because I didn't need to use it much because I flew planes for a living. But it got me around in style, that's why I bought it.

"I'll follow you and Maverick over," I asked Goose but expressed it as a statement. He nodded as he and Doe entered his car.

I threw my things inside and got in, started the engine, and let the car warm up. I saw Maverick pull out of his spot and wait for all of us to get the show on the road, I pulled out next to him and Goose was behind me. I smiled as I shifted, and we got out onto the highway that led away from the base. I saw Maverick wanted to weave in and out of traffic so I let Goose in front of me so he could lead me instead. Once he got in front of me it was a very smooth ride to the house, we were only one exit off the highway to the base and a few turns away from the highway.

The house was in a very nice neighborhood, surrounded by almost identical houses. It was a two-story Victorian house, beige in color with a slate gray roof. I parked myself in the driveway next to Goose, looking at the wrap-around porch that had been decked out with a porch swing, sitting chairs, and a small table. I shut off the engine, got out of my car, retrieved my duffle bag from the back, and closed the door marveling at the house.

"Wow, it's beautiful." I breathed out, pressing the button on my keys to lock the door to my car. I left my flight things in there as I would not be needing those anytime soon unless I was on base or studying.

"I was not expecting Stinger to get us something this nice. I thought he hated us." Maverick said as he got all his items from his bike.

"Hates you guys maybe, he loves us," Doe said to him matter of factly. I let out a small laugh. It was true, he loved us because we actually followed instructions and listened to him when he gave us orders. Maverick always disobeyed him and Goose being his RIO carried that reputation with him as well, even though Goose was level-headed about most things and kept his pilot in check.

"Well let's see the inside, shall we?" Maverick said, bouncing up the stairs to the door unlocking it with the key attached to his bike keys. I followed his lead as we walked through the door the stairs were off to the right in front of us, the kitchen straight back, the living room to the left, and the dining room to the right. I walked into the kitchen it was minimally decorated but perfect for what we needed, to the right was a washer-dryer tucked in a small room near the backdoor. Goose and Doe went up the stairs to claim their rooms as Maverick and I explored. I opened the backdoor to reveal a backyard with a smoker and grill on the patio with a small hot tub. It was quite honestly paradise.

When I grew up my parents tried their best to be good role models for me. However, the family background was shrouded in addiction and secrets. I yearned to get away from it and I managed to quite easily when I applied to the Naval Academy. The rest is history, I took a deep breath closing my eyes. I reached my fingers into my hair and pulled down the ponytails that held it in its bun. I felt fingers push the hair from the front of my face to the back tucking it behind my ear it brought me back to the present moment. Maverick was standing behind me I could feel his breath hitting my neck as he moved my hair to the side. I cleared my throat as his fingers wandered to the base of my neck gently massaging the skin.

"Everything you ever dreamed of having?" He asked in a soft voice.

"It's more," I smiled relaxing into his touch. He was getting bolder, it seemed as if he was trying to touch me every opportunity he could. I was still getting used to accepting him this close to me. I flinched as his fingers traced quickly over my scar and down to my lower back. The movement reminded me of the pain of getting the scar, the searing blinding pain, wet blood soaking the uniform I was in. I internally begged Maverick to pull me from the memory. He noticed the stiffness of my body and spun me around putting his forehead against mine so I could hear his calm breathing, before pulling me into a hug.

"I don't know what you're going through, I wish you would just tell me, so you don't have to suffer through it alone." He whispered into my ear. His sentiment to my welfare had me struggling to keep my well-adjusted composure.

"Maverick, maybe I will someday. But you have to stop pushing." I told him unhappily, lightly pushing myself from his grip and moving to go back inside the house.

"I'm sorry Maeve." He said switching back to real names rather than callsigns so I knew he was serious.

"Wait…" He started, grabbing my wrist before I could get much further, I turned around to look towards him wondering what else he wanted to say to me.

"What?" I asked him looking curiously into his eyes as if I was going to find the answers there. I could tell he wanted to say something more but he was struggling within himself to do so.

"I know we've only just started the program… But I want you to be careful flying with these guys. I don't trust them. I know you can handle yourself but please be cautious. We've all heard the rumors of how you got your callsign. I just worry." He said to me, I nodded contemplating his request.

"What're the rumors?" I asked him curiously; I hadn't heard any new ones recently. There were a couple that assumed I had killed a lot of people in a certain deployment, which wasn't entirely far off from the truth. Maverick had only met me a few years ago, the talk of how I got my callsign had died down since then, or so I thought.

"I heard that you killed your RIO, murdered actually. I've heard that you were engaged to him. I've heard so many different versions but they all end with him dead." He said to me looking skeptical, judging my reaction. My bottom jaw clenched involuntarily, and I let out a chuckle.

"It's interesting how people twist stories after some time has gone by." I smiled through the wound he had just reopened. My body itched to leave the conversation as quickly as I could.

"Fine, I'll be careful, but you need to heed your own advice Mav," I told him, he let my hand go and I walked back inside and up the stairs to see where Crystal had set up her bedroom. I got upstairs and heard her and Nick laughing about something or another. I would say I was the more serious one out of the group of us because I knew the dangers we faced all too well. I went into the empty bedroom furthest away from the laughter that filled the house. I deserved to be this way, alone, I was better off this way.

Next Chapter

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quickspinner · 2 years

Text

Guard My Heart - Ch 3 Your Heart is Glowing

With the end of Indelible in sight (if not exactly *near*) I've been putting more thought to this one. Thanks to @fan-written for sewing insight when I needed it and to @mintaka14 for beta reading for me so this chapter could still be mostly a surprise for @livrever, who's my usual beta. Surprise! (ish) 😁

Just a reminder, this fic was planned before Season 4 was released, so pretend everything past Season 3 doesn't exist, because I'm totally ignoring it for the purposes of this fic.

Gotta admit I'm eyeing that chapter count like hmmmmmm so fair warning, we may be looking at more in the 7-10 range (please please let it be under 10).

Also for those who have never worked in retail, POS in this context means "point of sale" not...that other thing. 😁

Marinette did not look like death, she decided as she examined herself in her own three-way mirror. Her suit was perfectly tailored, black with pink accents to coordinate with, but also contrast, the shop’s color scheme. She’d opted for slacks instead of a skirt so that she could crouch down and pin hems if needed, but they were perfectly fitted while still allowing her the range of motion she needed to work. The jacket was a flattering cut on her, the ruffles of her white blouse peeked out of the sleeves and collar, and her hair was done up in a chignon with some artful tendrils curling down around her neck. Her makeup was subtle but perfectly applied. Kaalki had painted her nails with a pretty base color of pink, and Wayzz had carefully, meticulously added tiny Chinese characters for luck and harmony in black, one on each pinky finger.

“You look perfect, Marinette,” Tikki assured her, peeping out from her pocket.

“I’m so nervous,” Marinette sighed, stepping carefully down from the platform and into the customized, well-padded low heels she had chosen for today. She’d worked hard to make sure they were comfortable, knowing how much she’d be on her feet today.

“It’s going to be okay,” Pollen assured her from the other pocket. “You’ve worked so hard!”

“And your parents have been promoting the shop for weeks,” Tikki added.

“The management company did a great job with the advertising too,” Marinette agreed, walking to her front door, which was no longer covered in paper. She peeked out at the grandstand set up in the square beyond Luka’s shop. “They hired a band and everything. Luka knows them and he said they’re really good ‘for a pop cover band.’”

“Speaking of Luka,” Tikki giggled, poking Marinette’s side and pointing through the window. “He’s coming this way.”

“He—oh!” Marinette grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, stepping aside as she did so. She had no idea how he’d been intending to get the door open himself, since he had a to-go cup of coffee from one of the other shops in the row in each hand.

“Good morning, Luka,” Marinette giggled as he came inside. He was dressed much the same as he did every day, except that his hair was pulled back in a short ponytail and maybe even gelled to keep the sides smooth, and his clothes, while casual, were less faded and ragged than his usual choices. He came in with a self-conscious smile.

“I figured we could both use a pick me up,” he said as he stepped aside so that she could let the door fall closed. “I don’t know about you but I’m nervous as—” He paused when he turned toward her, jaw dropping. “Wow,” he muttered. “You look amazing.”

Marinette smiled at him, doing a little turn to show off her outfit. “Thank you. No better way to feel confident than to look your best, right?”

Luka held out the cup of coffee in his hand. “I’m almost afraid to give you this now. Everything in here looks so fancy and pristine.”

Marinette took the coffee, giggling. “Catch me at the end of the day, barefoot with my hair flying everywhere and wrinkles in my suit.”

His gaze zeroed in on her then, direct and intense, and Marinette’s pulse sped up. “I absolutely will,” he grinned, and with a clear effort, looked away. “I definitely want to hear how the first day went and I’ll probably be glad to have someone to freak out to.”

“As if you ever freak out,” Marinette scoffed, and Luka snorted softly.

“You’d be surprised,” he said, shoulders slumping just slightly. “It may not look like most people’s freakout, but I definitely have them. Maybe I should have followed your example and dressed up, because I feel like I swallowed fifty akumas and they’re all crashing into each other in my stomach.” He sighed. “It’s like getting ready to go onstage with Jagged, only worse, because I’ve never done this before.”

Marinette giggled at the mental image. “You look great, Luka, you’re just fine for the atmosphere you’re trying to create. Or rather, that you create without trying.” She tilted her head slightly as she regarded him more critically. “Although...come with me.”

She took his coffee from him and walked to the back of the shop, glancing back to make sure Luka was following her. She set both coffee cups on the counter before she pointed to the pedestal. “Up.”

“Okay,” Luka drawled, cocking an eyebrow before he took the step up. “Wow, this is humbling,” Luka muttered, staring at his full length, three-way reflection.

“Hush,” Marinette said, pulling open a drawer under the counter to pluck out some supplies. “Take off the hoodie for a minute.”

He did, dropping it off to one side, and then folded his arms over his chest, clearly feeling a little exposed. He eyed Marinette a little dubiously as she approached him with pins attached to a magnet on her wrist.

“Relax,” Marinette murmured as she tugged his arms down so the shirt would hang properly. “There’s nobody here but me, and I’m just going to make a couple of adjustments. You’ll be shocked what a little tailoring can do even for the simplest garments. I’m going to be touching you a lot, so tell me if you start feeling uncomfortable, okay?”

“Sure,” he breathed, hands flexing at his sides. “What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing. Just stand there and think calm thoughts.” Marinette stepped up on the pedestal behind him. “If I just take in the sides and a little bit in the shoulders…” She moved around beside him, gathering the extra fabric and folding it at an angle with quick, practiced movements. She pinned one side, and then did the other, eyeing the tears in his shirt to make sure she wasn’t pulling them out of shape before she put in the pins. “How’s that? Still comfortable? Take a deep breath.” He did, and Marinette watched in the mirror the way his chest pressed against the shirt. Feeling a blush rise to her face, she unpinned and loosened the fold slightly on both sides, and had him do it again. “Okay, that looks good. This is totally the wrong way to go about this by the way, don’t tell anyone I did it. Normally I would be doing a bunch of measuring first, but we’re pressed for time, so this is going to be quick and dirty.”

Luka coughed, the tips of his ears turning red. “Quick and dirty can be fun,” he laughed into his hand, and Marinette slapped his back and pulled his arm back to his side.

“Pervert,” she muttered.

“You’re the one with your hands all over me,” he shot back, and Marinette turned red to her hairline. She was actually trying very hard not to think about the body underneath the shirt she was touching. Because she was a professional.

She sure as hell wasn’t going to let him tease her without getting him back, though. She cleared her throat and then put her hands on his shoulders, putting her chin just over his shoulder so she could look at him directly in the mirror.

“Take it off, Luka,” she told him, and Luka choked.

“Unfair,” he muttered, reaching for his collar.

“You started it. Watch the pins,” she warned him, reaching to hold the hem out away from him. Carefully they got the shirt off of him, and Marinette realized abruptly that she had not prepared for the three shirtless Lukas facing her in the mirror. “I’ll be right back,” she said quickly, and took the shirt and her suddenly flaming face to the back room, flipping it inside out as she went.

Checking the time, she worked quickly, laying the shirt out to mark her line.

“What are you going to do?” Luka asked behind her, and Marinette jumped.

“Luka!” she gasped, putting a hand on her heart. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not yet,” he grinned with a wink, folding his arms over his bare chest, and she squeaked indignantly.

“Luka,” she whined, throwing a scrap piece of fabric at him that didn’t get very far.

“Sorry,” Luka said, his shoulders curling slightly just like Juleka’s did. “Just nerves coming out, I guess. Anyway, I felt kind of weird standing there like this with all the windows, so…”

“Oh. Right. I should have thought of that and closed the curtain, I’m sorry.” Stupid. Ugh. Left him standing in the shop half-naked—okay stop thinking. “Do you care if I cut this?” she asked, turning to her serger.

“Anything you need to do, as long as I’m dressed when I walk out of here. I’d hate to start rumors.” Luka chuckled.

“I don’t remember you being such a flirt,” Marinette sighed, lining her marks up carefully and checking the machine settings. “Plug that iron in for me?” she nodded over at the iron already set up across the room.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I swear I’m not, I’m just—” He sighed, and reached back to tug on his ponytail. “Sorry.” He went to do as she asked, and Marinette took a breath and focused on what she was doing. She finished the quick seams, setting aside the excess fabric that the serger had cut. Then she took a breath and got up, facing Luka.

“No, I’m sorry,” she told him, pausing to look up and meet his eyes. “I just kind of waylaid you and dragged you into this and I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“No, it’s not that, I—” Luka sighed, as she turned back to the machine. “I appreciate that you’re trying to help. I really do.”

“It’s only a little thing, I know.” Marinette hunched her shoulders slightly. “But, well. It’ll help, I promise. Most people don’t realize what a difference a little tailoring can make, even on a simple t-shirt, and it’s so easy to do, and...well, like I said. If you’re comfortable and confident in how you look, you’ll feel better able to face whatever comes. It’s a basic tenet of my business and I really believe in it.” She gave him a smile over her shoulder as she took the shirt to the ironing board. “Trust me.”

He smiled back, trailing after her. “I do.” Then he chuckled as he watched her. “That shirt’s probably never been ironed since I bought it.”

“I kinda figured,” Marinette laughed, “but the seams won’t look right until they’re pressed.” Finished, she held the shirt at arm's length and looked it over carefully before nodding and turning to present it to Luka.

He pulled it back over his head, and Marinette helped him tug it down and settle it. Probably unnecessarily, but she was nervous now, and she couldn’t help fussing over him just a little. When it was on, she ran her hands across his shoulders and down his sides with a satisfied smile before tugging the hem one more time.

“Not bad for a rush job,” she smiled. “Come and see.” She dragged him back out to the mirror again. “I didn’t change much, just gave it more of a fitted shape for you. Not too tight, I don’t want to take away that relaxed air that you have—”

“I have an air?” Luka asked, expression amused as he stepped up on the platform.

“Yes,” Marinette told him insistently, reaching out to tug the hem of his shirt and smooth out the wrinkles. She put her hands on his hips and faced him to the mirror with a smile of pure pride.

“Wow,” Luka said, blinking at his reflection and turning a little. “That...does actually make a difference.”

Marinette giggled. “Consider it thanks for the coffee.”

“Aw man, the coffee,” Luka said, turning and hopping down to check the cups on the counter. “Still hot,” he smiled, and took a sip of his. “Good thing you work so fast.”

Marinette grinned, and picked up his hoodie from the edge of the pedestal before walking over to hand it to him and take back her own coffee. Rather than put it on, Luka looped the hoodie over his arm.

“I better get back over there and get down to business,” Luka sighed, and smiled at Marinette. “You do look amazing, and you’re absolutely going to kill it today.”

“So will you,” Marinette said, smiling back at him. “We’re going to make this work, Luka. Both of us.”

“Right,” Luka chuckled. “So—here’s to today, and I’ll see you at closing time.” He held out his coffee and Marinette clinked hers against it.

“Thanks for the coffee, Luka,” she said, and then impulsively, she rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Good luck today.”

He moved before she pulled back and kissed her cheek as well. “You too.”

She got a lungful of his scent, morning fresh with cologne and aftershave, and coffee carried on his breath, and felt the warm brush of his face along hers, and if she hadn’t been holding the coffee, she might have done something stupid, like grabbing onto him to keep him close. As it was, he seemed to linger there by her cheek for a moment as he said, “Thanks for the pep talk. And the wardrobe upgrade.” Then he turned away from her and covered the distance to the door in long strides, gone so fast that she didn’t have to worry about schooling her expression or covering her reaction.

Marinette went back to the counter on shaking knees and set her coffee down before she dropped it. She leaned against the counter and tried to breathe. She was beginning to realize on a new level just how dangerous it was to have Luka next door. There had always been a certain amount of magnetism between them, but Luka had never affected her like that before...but then she was a grown woman now, and he was very much a grown man, and she really, really needed to be more careful, before she did anything stupid that might ruin their friendship for good. And that would definitely be awkward, considering they were neighbors and both too invested in their new shops to move now.

She couldn’t give him what he deserved, anyway. Better to keep her head in the game and try not to let Luka get too far under her skin. So she was attracted to her friend. No big deal. It didn’t have to be anything.

Marinette took a couple of deep breaths, and picked up her tablet, pulling up her schedule and to-do list. Work. She just needed to work. This was her big day and she was not going to lose her professionalism over a man, no matter how attractive he was. It wasn’t long until opening time now, and she intended to be ready.

“You’re going to do great, Marinette.” Pollen’s little voice made Marinette jump, and she looked down to see the kwami peeping out of her pocket. She smiled and nodded.

“First things first,” Marinette declared, swiping over her to-do list with more force than necessary. “Let’s get started.”

Everything else quickly fell away as she let herself get swept up in the whirlwind of prepping her shop. She made notes as she went through what she hoped would become her morning routine. It would probably take a few weeks to tweak the process until it was absolutely perfect. Marinette had done her best to be prepared the night before, so there wasn’t nearly as much to actually do as there was to check, double check, and fiddle with. The lights on her window displays went out unexpectedly and she spent an anxious half-hour searching for the problem. She breathed a sigh of relief when she got it working again, and then had to go fix her hair and run a lint roller over her suit to remove the evidence of her efforts.

Finally, it was time.

“Well,” Marinette said, tucking a hand in her pocket to run a finger over Tikki’s head. “Here goes nothing.” She walked to her door, opened it, and kicked down the doorstop to hold it open. “We are officially open for business,” she breathed, flashing a welcoming smile to a couple of the people already strolling down the street. She glanced towards Luka’s shop door and saw him fixing his own doorstop. He took a deep breath, and then glanced up and met her gaze. Luka gave her a grin and a wink before disappearing back into his shop, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. He really is nervous , she thought as she stepped back into her own space. She fidgeted one more time with one of the dresses on display in the window, making sure the hem was perfect, but mostly just trying to look like she wasn’t about to pounce on the first person who walked into her shop.

The first hour or two were a little awkward, and Marinette found herself wishing she had Luka’s gift for reading people. Was she being too attentive? Making anyone uncomfortable? She was well aware that she could be a bit much, and she was almost more terrified of overwhelming a prospective customer than neglecting them.

It got easier, though, as the morning went on, and the sidewalk outside began to fill up with people. Enough people were drifting in and out of the shop that Marinette couldn’t spend too much time with any one person if they didn’t actively want her help, and she began to settle into a more comfortable, professional rhythm.

Much like in the bakery, people tended to come in waves, and during one of the lull periods, a smiling blond appeared in Marinette’s doorway with a silver tray in her hands and an apron over her front. Marinette greeted her reflexively, though she obviously wasn’t a customer.

“Hello,” said the cheerful girl, carrying her tray towards the counter. “I’m Cherry, I own the cafe across the street. I just came to offer you a sandwich and maybe drop off a few of our cards if you’d be willing to put them out.”

“Oh,” Marinette blinked, and then smiled back. “Of course! I’m Marinette.”

“I know,” Cherry grinned, holding up her tray for Marinette to select a sandwich. There were several individually wrapped and labeled with the main ingredient. There was also a stack of business cards piled on one side of the tray, and Marinette took a small pile from the top along with her sandwich. “Luka told me I should come talk to you about designing t-shirts for the cafe.”

“O-oh, he did?” Of course he did, she thought as she arranged Cherry’s cards next to the register.

“He’s so cute,” Cherry sighed, swooning against the counter. “I chatted him up a bit when he came in to get coffee this morning. Doesn’t say much, but he seems like a real sweetheart.”

“He is,” Marinette agreed, hoping she wasn’t blushing as she picked a sandwich and set it behind the lip of the counter. “We’ve been friends for a long time, actually. So, you’re interested in a t-shirt design? It would probably be best if we set up an appointment so we don’t have to rush.”

“Yes,” Cherry said, looking around the shop, and she looked suddenly uneasy. “Though, I’m not sure this is quite the vibe we’re looking for…”

“That’s okay,” Marinette said cheerfully, pulling up her calendar on her tablet. “I can work with a lot of different styles. Why don’t we set up a consultation, and—” She picked up one of her monogrammed business cards and offered it to Cherry. “There’s a link here to my digital portfolio. Take a look at it before our appointment, and if you still feel we wouldn’t be a good fit, you can cancel the consultation, no hard feelings.”

“That sounds great,” Cherry nodded, relaxing a little. Marinette wasn’t especially worried. She had curated her shop carefully but t-shirt and logo design had been her bread and butter for years, helping to keep her afloat so that she could work on her more complex design work. Marinette filled out a customer profile for Cherry on the new system with her contact info.

“That should do it,” Marinette nodded, holding out her hand for Cherry to shake. “I’ll also stop by the shop sometime soon so I can get a feel for the kind of thing you might be looking for.” Marinette glanced at the wrapped sandwiches again and made a mental note to bring over a business card for the bakery as well. “Thank you so much for the food, I hadn’t even thought of eating.

“My pleasure,” Cherry hiked her tray up onto her hip and shook Marinette’s hand. “We’re all going to be seeing each other a lot around here, so we might as well get friendly with our neighbors, right?” She winked and nodded her head at the wall that adjoined Luka’s shop. “Especially the cute ones.” She giggled, took her tray in both hands again, and went out of Marinette’s door, turning in the direction of Luka’s.

She seems friendly, Marinette thought drily, and turned on the best smile she could manage for the next group that came in the door.

As it got closer to lunch time, the shop began to empty out. Marinette found a few moments to eat her sandwich in the back room. It was decent, she grudgingly admitted, but she was still going to pass on her parents’ info. Good bread made everything better, after all.

The shop was still empty when she stepped back out, and Marinette walked to the door to look around. The band was getting set up, and they’d probably start playing soon. There was a long line out of the cafe and several people were sitting at the little tables in the square. Maybe now would be a safe time to take a few minutes and check out the other business owners on the block. They were all in the same boat, more or less, and there might be opportunities for cross promotion that would benefit everyone.

She put up a sign on the shop to let customers know when she would return and set out to meet her neighbors. It was an eclectic set of little shops. There was a vintage book shop run by a spritely elderly lady with spikey, bright purple hair and a broad smile, and a pet boutique run by a shy young man who blushed and stammered when he greeted her. Two cheerful middle-aged men were in charge of an art collective selling painting, pottery, and other goods from local artists. Marinette spent more time there than she should have, there were so many interesting things to see! She reminded herself that she needed to be frugal for now but resolved to come by and pick up some special items for her apartment when she had money to spend on such things.

Marinette had to head back after that, unconsciously bouncing a little to the beat of the band playing in the square, but her step quickened as she realized someone was waiting outside of her door. “Hello, I’m so sorry,” she gushed as she walked up, and the tall girl in front of her turned and smiled. “Oh, it’s Marcie, right? Luka’s friend.”

Marcie ducked her head a little bit and grinned shyly. “Yeah. Luka said I should come check your stuff out. I’m not, um. I have trouble finding clothes sometimes? He said you could help.”

Tall, broad-shouldered, and buff, Marcie definitely wasn’t the target audience for standard fashion. Marinette, though, was excited at the prospect. “I can certainly do that,” she said crisply, unlocking the door.

As she was opening the door and kicking the doorstop into place, she heard a familiar name boomed through the grandstand mic. Startled, she looked over to see Luka climbing the stairs of the grandstand with a lopsided grin as the band’s lead singer/guitarist waved him on.

“Oh, he’s going to play?” Marcie said, having turned at the same time Marinette did. “Awesome.”

The man with the mic handed over his guitar to Luka and grabbed him by the shoulders, moving him over and positioning him in front of another mic despite Luka’s laughing protests. “All right folks, here’s your own Luka Couffaine, owner of the Second Chance antique store there on the corner. Thanks for humoring me, Luka. Love playing with this guy, seriously.”

Marinette covered a giggle with her hand. Luka looked so much more himself with the guitar slung across his shoulders, his hands confident and precise as he strummed the pick down the strings in a graceful motion. Marinette sighed unconsciously, watching the curve of his arm and the motion of his muscles. He put the pick in his teeth for a moment and paused to adjust the guitar strap and a tuning peg. He took the pick out of his mouth and licked his lips, his eyes flicking up to scan over the small crowd. He gave a quick smirk and then looked up at the rest of the band, waiting for the count.

Marinette's smile grew as she watched him play, feeling a surge of nostalgia and at the same time, a strange sense of disconnection between the boy she remembered and the man on stage. Her eyes widened slightly when he stepped up to the mic and began to sing a harmony with the vocalist. She’d never heard him sing before.

There was a cough by her elbow and Marinette jumped slightly. Marcie smiled down at her knowingly, and Marinette blushed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him play,” Marinette muttered, reaching up to smooth her hair.

“You two used to be a thing, right?” Marcie asked, and Marinette spluttered.

“No! No. I mean. There was a thing, but. We weren’t a thing. Things just, um. Never worked out that way.”

“Oh, I see,” Marcie said, nudging Marinette with her elbow. “A missed chance.”

“Please don’t say it like that,” Marinette sighed, shoulders slumping. “I hurt Luka very badly back then, I know I did, and...I don’t want to risk that again. This isn’t a good time for either of us, we both have so many things to focus on, and I...I’m not good at relationships. I don’t want to do that to Luka again.”

“Oh.” Marcie put her hand on Marinette’s arm. “I’m sorry. I won’t tease you about it, I promise.”

Marinette blinked, and then smiled up at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Marcie grinned, and for a while they stood watching Luka play and sing along with the band.

“He looks happy,” Marinette said, without realizing she’d spoken aloud.

“He really does,” Marcie agreed. “I’m glad. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him really happy. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I think touring with Jagged really shook him up and did a number on his confidence. I hope this new start will be good for him, and give him a chance to figure out what he really wants, you know?”

Marinette nodded, sighing softly. “It can be hard, figuring out our dreams don’t really match up to reality.”

The song ended and the crowd gathered around the square cheered. Luka waved his appreciation, and then laughed when the audience groaned as he took the guitar and handed it back to the lead singer. Luka just shook his head as his friend tried to persuade him to stay on stage, slapped the other man on the back, and descended the bandstand stairs. Marinette blinked as she recognized Cherry at the bottom, holding out a bottle of water to him. He grinned and accepted it, nodding at whatever she was saying before throwing his head back to drink.

“It’s a journey,” Marcie sighed, and Marinette had to think to remember what they were talking about. “You’ve gotta find a way to live that’s true to you and still lets you get by in the world.”

Cherry cocked a hip and tilted her head as Luka’s focus returned to her. Marinette rolled her eyes and tore her gaze away, facing Marcie so she didn’t have to see any more. “But here, we’re supposed to be talking about you,” she said, feeling a pang of guilt at being so distracted. “Please, come in, I’m sure I have some things that can work for you.”

Marcie was a fun and challenging client and exactly what Marinette needed to pull her back to reality. Her muscular build reminded Marinette of her old acquaintance Ondine, and Marinette had learned a lot from working with Ondine while she and Kim were dating. Marcie was a bit shy and self-conscious, not confident in her own taste, and it felt good to help her.

Money was an issue, of course. Marinette hated that Marcie and so many others had to spend so much money on clothes just because she fell outside of the traditional mold. Marinette did her best to keep her prices down, but there was only so much she could do without sacrificing quality or undervaluing her own time. Marcie couldn’t exactly afford to fill her closet with bespoke clothing, and buying off the rack wasn’t such a great experience for her either. Marinette put her mind to work, trying to figure out the best way for Marcie to get the most out of her money, and relished the challenge.

Because she couldn’t help herself, Marinette cut Marcie a deal on tailoring, rationalizing that Marcie would pretty much always need tailoring on her clothes and therefore it was actually good business to offer her a discount up front if it meant securing a long-term customer. Marcie left smiling, with one new outfit hanging in Marinette’s back room marked for tailoring, and an appointment for a consultation on altering some of Marcie’s current outfits.

Customers had started to pick up again for the afternoon, and Marinette was kept hopping until well after dark. When she finally closed the door at the end of the day, she had to laugh at the image in her mirror. She wasn’t barefoot yet, but her hair was falling down, her suit was wrinkled, and she looked just as tired as she had predicted. Even so, it had been a good, satisfying day, and Marinette was grinning as she closed out her POS system and did a little dance behind the counter. She went through her closing checklist, and dragged herself upstairs. She was starving , and though she was tired, she was still jazzed, and she had a sudden craving for something indulgent. Pancakes and bacon, she thought, as she kicked off her shoes at her door. The kwamis swarmed around her with congratulations and questions, and she laughed as she tossed her suit jacket over the back of her couch and went to get started on dinner.

She was frying the second pan of bacon when a sharp knock on the door made her jump. She glanced around as the kwamis quickly zipped into hiding, and then went to the door. She had to stand on her toes to look out the peephole, but once she saw the familiar figure outside she dropped back to her sock feet and undid the lock.

“Luka,” Marinette said as she opened the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine, I just…” Luka seemed to hesitate, and then let out a gusty sigh and grinned at her. “I’ll be honest, whatever you’re cooking smells amazing and I’m starving. I came to beg.”

Marinette blinked at him, and then burst out laughing, stepping back to open the door. Luka slouched inside with his hands in his pockets, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

“I’ll tell you what,” Marinette said, closing the door behind him. “I’ll feed you, and then you play for me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Luka chuckled. “I would have done that for free though.”

Marinette looked over her shoulder and winked at him as she went back to the kitchen. “I would have fed you for free too. I don’t have a table, so belly up to the bar. I’m almost done.” She waved him toward the stools and went back to the kitchen. She saw Daizzi poking his head out of a cabinet to give her a mournful look and mouthed sorry at him. It was a little disturbing to her how much Daizzi loved bacon, but pigs were pigs.

She flipped the last of the pancakes and tipped the pan of bacon onto the plate, and then turned back to ask Luka a question that she immediately forgot as soon as she met his eyes. He blinked quickly and straightened a little.

“So how was your first day?” he asked before she could say anything. He looked down and traced the pattern of the corian with his index finger.

“What? Oh, busier than I expected,” she said, turning back to the stove with some confusion. “The promotion and the band and all the grand opening festivities really drew a crowd. Time will tell if any of the contacts I made are worth anything for the future, but it felt good to start with a bang. Yours?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Same,” he said, leaning his chin on his fist. “I was really freaked out at first about actually trying to sell stuff, but in the end it was really just a lot of talking to people, listening to their stories, and pointing them in the right direction now and then. I don’t love the bargaining but the rest of it went okay. Lots of tourists, so the small things moved pretty well. Everybody loved the turtle, by the way.” He grinned, and Marinette giggled. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

The kitchen was so narrow that Marinette doubted she could have shared space with even her mother without several full-body collisions, let alone someone of Luka’s height and armspan, but she tried not to smile as she declined. “I’m almost done anyway,” she said, and then frowned. “Maybe I should have made some eggs. Do you want eggs?”

“Don’t do anything extra for me,” Luka protested, and Marinette rolled her eyes, stepping to the fridge.

“Thanks for the coffee this morning,” Marinette said, as she opened the carton of eggs, trying to decide how many to make. “It was really sweet of you to think of me.”

“Well, you’ve always been my lucky charm,” Luka chuckled. “My life was brightest when you were in it. I’m happy to get you coffee if it means you’ll stick around.”

Marinette jolted, fumbling the egg carton. She managed to keep it from tipping and quickly set it on the counter. Taking a deep breath, she braced her hands on either side of it, closing stinging eyes.

Big hands closed on her shoulders in a tight squeeze, and then reached forward to wrap around her, pulling her back against Luka’s warm body. Marinette’s hand curled around his forearm on instinct and she hung her head.

“No,” he said quickly, voice low and urgent. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, Marinette, I swear. I’m sorry, I was thoughtless.”

Marinette opened her mouth and drew breath to tell him it was okay, but the breath hitched in her throat and escaped again as a sob. Luka reached around her to turn off the stove. His hands moved back to her shoulders, coaxing her to turn, and then guided her head to his shoulder as he swayed with her gently, making soothing noises.

Marinette pressed her face into his shoulder and gripped the back of his shirt, trying to keep back the tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Luka sighed. “I’m still shit when it comes to saying what I mean. I just...I’m happy you’re in my life again, Marinette, and I hope you’re going to be here for a long time, but—but if you’re not...you need to be you, Marinette, and live your life the best you can. I’d never want to hold you back or, or stop you from doing that, I just…I’m so sorry for making you cry.” He pressed his face to her hair. “I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I swear I didn’t.”

Marinette took a shuddering breath against him. “Shut up,” she mumbled. “And go get your guitar.” She straightened up, and pushed him gently away. “I’ll be done cooking when you get back.”

He was still and silent for a long moment, as if he hadn’t understood her, but then he pulled back, hands finding her shoulders again to squeeze firmly. “I’ll be right back,” he told her, bending down slightly to look in her face, and then he practically ran out of the apartment.

Marinette turned back to the counter and buried her face in her hands for a moment. A fuzzy body collided with her fingers and she shifted to hold it against her cheek as Roarr nuzzled her. She heard the stove click back on, and knew Tikki and Daizzi were continuing her breakfast-for-dinner prep.

“Can I bite him?” Roarr growled, rubbing her face all over Marinette’s.

“It’s not his fault,” Marinette whispered. “He didn’t mean to. He doesn’t know, how could he?”

“Don’t care,” Roarr grumbled, and Marinette had to smile..

“I did leave him, emotionally, even if he’s the one who left physically. I was checked out before he left and he knows it. Of course he knows it. He just doesn’t know why, because—” She sighed, tired of the worn path in her mind. He didn’t know, because she couldn’t tell him, because—

Barkk landed on her shoulder with a little whimper and licked her cheek. “Don’t be sad, Marinette,” he said, and she reached up to scratch behind his ears as well. Marinette heard a few tentative notes from Luka’s guitar next door, tuning. She felt a twinge of guilt for breaking down on him like that.

“I’m all right,” she promised them, drying her eyes on her sleeves. “Okay, go hide before he comes back.” She gave both kwamis a little kiss and a pat before they sailed off, and gave a grateful smile to Tikki and Daizzi as she took back the pans. They each hugged her cheek, and went off to hide, just as Luka knocked and opened the door. He leaned in, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Are you sure you want me around?” he asked softly. “I can order in, or just take the food and go, if you’d rather—”

“No, no, please come in,” Marinette said, setting plates piled with pancakes on the breakfast bar. “I’ve made way too much to eat by myself, anyway.”

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” he joked as he set his guitar by the sofa and slid, tentatively, onto the barstool, like he was still afraid she might kick him out. Marinette laughed weakly and put the plate of bacon between their two plates. She couldn’t very well tell him she was cooking for herself plus a horde of tiny gods, but the look on his face probably would have been priceless.

She handed Luka the silverware and got out butter, syrup, and two glasses of milk before finally coming around the bar to sit down next to him.

“I’m really sorry I got so upset,” Marinette began, feeling she owed him an explanation. “It just...feels like I’m always leaving people. I get so busy and I overcommit and then people are upset, and I guess...I guess somewhere along the line it was easier to just...stop trying. I can’t expect other people to do all the work, you know? It’s better just to let them go. Maybe someday when—” when I don’t have to be Ladybug anymore “—when things are different, then I can have those kinds of friendships again. It just feels kind of impossible right now.”

“It’s not impossible,” Luka said gently, reaching over to lay a hand on her wrist. “Not at all.”

The look Marinette gave him must have been skeptical, because he smiled and withdrew his hand. “So my mom basically kicked me out of the house when Juleka turned eighteen and started modeling seriously,” he said, moving some bacon slices onto his plate as Marinette blinked at his abrupt change of topic. “It was pretty obvious that between university classes and her career, Jules wasn’t going to be back permanently any time soon, and Mom was just...ready to do her own thing again. I mean, she’s always done her own thing to an extent, but there were sacrifices she made to provide a minimal level of stability for me and Jules, and now she doesn’t need to anymore. So she told me I needed to find a place of my own, and almost before I knew it, I was couch surfing with friends and Juleka, and all our stuff was in storage. She traded the Liberty in on something a little more seaworthy. Now she’s living her best pirate life on the Liberty II and…” He gestured vaguely towards his apartment.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Marinette frowned, leaning her chin on one hand as she pushed her food around on her plate with the other.

Luka didn’t answer right away, tucking into his dinner before he answered. “It bothered me a little bit, that she didn’t give me much warning, but her leaving didn’t bother me.” He smiled gently at Marinette. “No matter where she goes, she’s still my mom, and she still loves me, and I still love her. Just because she’s not here right now, and we don’t talk every day, or even every week, doesn’t change that we love each other. Same with Jules. She’s got her own life now, and sometimes we go weeks without seeing each other. When we do, though, it’s no big deal. She’s still my sister. It’s like we were never apart.”

Marinette couldn’t think of anything to say to that, and looked down, only to look up again when Luka put his hand on her back.

“I know it sounds different, because we’re family,” Luka said, “but it’s not. There’s friendships that are like that, where you do your own thing until your lives intersect again, and then it’s like you were never apart. And then your roads part and you wave goodbye until the next time. Forget all this recordkeeping bullshit about who texted who last and how long it’s been and whether you remembered to send them a facebook message on their birthday, or how many invitations for drinks they’ve passed up and bailed on. There’s all kinds of friendship out there, Marinette. You’re not doomed to be alone and isolated forever, just because you’re talented and driven and career-oriented, and you know where you want to be in life.”

Almost. Almost, he understood, except he couldn’t, because she couldn’t tell him the real truth. She couldn’t tell him how it wore on her to lie to everyone in her life, or the way those lies created distance simply by virtue of existing—distance the other person could always sense but couldn’t understand. Just like now, in this conversation. She was holding back, and he knew it, and he didn’t get why. Right now, he thought it was a trust issue, that if they ever grew close enough, she would eventually open up and tell him what was really the matter, and that distance would be gone.

Except that would never happen, and he would get tired of waiting, and hurt that she still didn’t trust him, and he would eventually recede even further, and fade into yet another background character in her life, a polite acquaintance with a silent grudge she could never assuage.

It was nice that he was trying, though. She gave him a weak smile, and nodded, though she could feel her lower lip trembling.

Luka’s smile was sad, and he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek before he went back to his food. Eventually, Marinette’s hunger got the better of her melancholy mood, and she was able to enjoy the fluffy pancakes and the bacon she had been able to make just the way she liked it. Luka made a contented noise. “This is the thing I miss the most from the States,” he said, waving his fork at his plate. “I don’t know how they can eat this much heavy stuff for breakfast but for dinner?” He made a little moan and Marinette giggled. That gave her an opening to ask about his travels, and they made quiet, comfortable small talk until they were finished eating.

Luka gently insisted on helping her clean up, humming quietly as he stood beside her, drying the dishes that she handed him.

“All right,” she said, taking the dishtowel from him. “I’ve done my part. Time for you to pay up, sir.”

Luka chuckled. “Sure. Do you want to go change or anything?” He indicated the suit she was still wearing. “Not that you don’t look good, but—”

Marinette snorted and laughed, looking down at herself. “No, you’re right, I could definitely be more comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

She ended up just changing into her pajamas, a set that had a shirt that buttoned over the camisole so she didn’t feel too exposed, and by the time she came back out of her room, Luka was settled on the couch, fingers moving in slow, thoughtful motions over his guitar, just random chords as far as she could tell. His eyes were half closed, but as soon as she sat down on the other end of the couch and pulled her feet up under herself, he shifted into a gentle tune. Marinette folded her arms on the couch arm and rested her head on them, watching Luka play since he didn’t seem to be looking at her.

“Anything you want to hear?” he asked softly.

“Whatever you feel like playing,” she replied, and he nodded.

The music seemed to just wander for a moment, and then picked up into something she recognized. Luka didn’t sing, which she kind of regretted, having heard him earlier in the day. She’d like to hear him sing on his own, someday.

Snatches of the words played in her mind as she closed her eyes and listened.

…Just keep breathin and breathin’and breathin and breathin

… You remind me of a time when things weren’t so complicated…All I need is to see your face…

…Just keep breathin and breathin and breathin and breathin

“Marinette?”

“Hmm?” She opened her eyes and blinked at Luka. He smiled at her.

“Maybe I should go. You look so tired.”

I am so tired.

“One more?” she asked, and he chuckled.

“Sure,” he said, still smiling, and turned back to his guitar.

Again the melody wandered for a moment, and then he settled into something soft that she didn’t recognize.

She opened her eyes for a moment when he began to sing, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“Fare thee well, my own true love,” he sang, “Farewell for a while…I’m going away…but I’ll be by…though I go ten thousand miles…”

She let her eyes fall closed again…and when they opened, it was to the beep of her alarm, and the snores of the kwamis burrowed in the bed all around her. Marinette fumbled for the button on her alarm, and managed to turn it off. She lay blinking for a moment, trying to think. She vaguely remembered Luka’s soft voice, and his arm around her, supporting her as she zombie-walked to bed.

Marinette supposed she ought to be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. Anything, or nothing, Luka had promised her long ago, and despite the way things had fallen apart between them, he’d offered her nothing but friendship and affection since they both moved in. No judgment, no hurt, no resentment. It couldn’t last, but it was nice while she had it. She closed her eyes and tried not to remember that eventually she would have to push him away.

“Marinette?” a squeaky voice asked, and she opened her eyes again to find Daizzi floating in front of her nose. “Is there any bacon left?” he wanted to know.

Songs:

Breathin by Ariana Grande, specifically this cover by Eddie van der Meer

10,000 Miles by Mary Chapin-Carpenter

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #guard my heart #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #pro lukamari

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masquenoire · 10 months

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@gnarledbite found you HERE...

Well, tonight had been a real shitshow. What was supposed to have been a quick clean-out turned out to be more than Roman had bargained for, the group of thugs encroaching on his turf backed up with some real killer artillery. Definitely not some run-of-the-mill gang looking to pick up some parking meter change; it had been a trap and Roman charged in with all guns blazing only to end up against a firing squad himself. Kind of impressive actually, the simplicity of the scheme in which to draw Roman Sionis onto the street for an easy kill. Targeting his dealers and disrupting the flow of narcotics had been one thing but the joy of making an example out of the culprits, now they knew he'd find that irresistable. Roman would have smiled had he still had the strength. Scarface knew him better than he knew himself, the vicious little wooden bastard. However, Roman could only swallow, feeling oddly thirsty despite the strong taste of blood upon his tongue. He’s bleeding out fast and knows it, unable to repress a shudder at his impending demise. Then again it might have been his body beginning to convulse - already he could feel the cold, dark fingers of death reaching out for him like so many others had been claimed tonight. Speaking of Death, the bastard was already hovering over his corpse. It wasn't Scarface, much to his surprise. The odd, scratching voice that reached his dimming ears didn't carry the gloating words he'd been expecting, of luring him out onto his own turf that would now belong to him. Similarly the dark frame kneeling above his corpse wasn't chubby like the Ventriloquist Scarface had dubbed his puppet - this newcomer was thin and lanky, their silhouette so tall that overhead lights were blotted out, fanning behind the top of their head like some sort of nightmarish halo. He'd never put much stock into religion but in that moment, it looked like an awful lot like the Angel of Death had come for him. Or so he'd thought. Death didn't ask how badly you wanted to live, saying that your luck hadn't run out just yet. Roman swallowed again, coughing wetly as he struggled to get a better look at his saviour's face. It wasn't Batman or any of the other morons stupid enough to try saving the crime lord's life and with a bullet lodged in his lung, even the Bat wouldn't have been able to perform any miracles at this point. Well, fuck. What else did he have to lose? Roman figured the other person wasn't asking out of the goodness of their little heart, that payment would be involved one way or the other but right now he didn't have the time or energy to lay out the terms of any contracts, the fires of his hot blood now growing cold and dim. "... F-fuck it. Do what you c-can, n' I'll m-make it w-w-worth your w-while..." Roman spits, his words trailing off as a violent hacking fit overcomes him. The crime lord sighs as his strength gives out, jaw going slack as he fights bitterly to maintain eye contact until his last breath. He wasn't ready to leave this life yet, especially not by the hand of some two-bit chump he didn't even know the name of.

#gnarledbite #verse ;; vtm #death tw #death cw #dying tw #dying cw #About a month late but ey!#Slowing getting shit drafted but we're getting there!#Roman would make for a very fun ghoul :3 #Don't feel obliged to match length btw just felt bad about keeping you waiting!#Hope this was okay just let me know if anything needs changing

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

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The Diary of Jane Doe - Part VI

After finishing my S&D, I finally get the time to upload the next chapter of this.

-> Part V

Words: 1,9k

Warnings: blood, mayhem, sexual innuendo, all-around vulgarity

October 21st - Part I

Jane woke up and groaned; she had slept badly, and she was not sure her guests had slept at all.

The lukewarm shower and the donning of underwear did but very little to brighten her mood so – by the time she dragged herself into the living room – she was more out of sorts than she’d ever been.

“We’re ready,” Melkor chirped, clothed in what she surmised had once been her best slip; when he had spoken of “clothing”, she had – naïvely as she now had to appreciate – thought of proper garments such as pants and shirts.

Hence why the porn-bikini construction of strips crisscrossing over Melkor’s bulging flesh took her by surprise; she had never seen anything remotely like that in real life and was wondering for a second if he was even able to breathe in it.

Then again, she thought, she did not know if breathing was a requirement for a not-devil to begin with.

“This is not your first day of school,” she grumbled and went into the kitchen to switch on the coffee machine which made a strange noise before spluttering into action.

“Hmmmm thanks,” Gothmog rumbled as she brought him his thimble and gave her thumb a friendly nip. “Thuri and I will hold the fort! She sleeps during the day.”

“Wait a minute!” Jane’s hand froze midway to her mouth, her own coffee cup hanging suspended in the air and her jaw slack with outrage. “She asked for a good night kiss yesterday!”

“She just wanted a kiss,” Melkor chimed in with a wicked cackle that drove gooseflesh down her spine. “She’s devious like that.”

“There’s nothing devious in wanting to be kissed,” Jane muttered grumpily to which Mairon replied that he certainly never, under no circumstances, in any world, would accept her to put her filthy mouth on him.

To Jane’s alarm, none of the others seemed to share that sentiment; she did not intend to make it a habit to kiss them good morning and good night like actual pets or lovers.

“Off to work then,” she said, visibly defeated, “you two better not get up to any funny stuff in my purse. It’s real leather, the stains will never come out.”

The fact that both Melkor and Mairon agreed immediately should have warned her that something awfully wicked was on the horizon; moreover, their enthusiasm to be leaving the flat gave her a strange, sickening inkling that they had done something unnatural to the place while she had been asleep.

It was the prerogative of a spinster to be peculiar and hence, nobody even batted an eye at Jane unpacking two of the creepiest dolls anyone had ever seen and putting them on the desk beside her screen.

Generally seemingly invisible to her colleagues, she didn’t worry too much about anyone stopping by to chat with her anyway; soon, her two demons were merrily cutting out shapes from a stack of post-its and clambering around on her while she was entering data into a never-ending spreadsheet with rhythmic, mindless movements.

“Where is the hot dude?” Melkor asked at some point, balancing up her arm and sitting on her shoulder – literally kicking his feet in the fashion of a schoolgirl – like the proverbial demon seducing people into giving in to their darkest impulses. “Maybe we can put some tacks into him? In a flirty way?”

“Next cubicle,” Jane informed them without looking up; she was wondering if either Gothmog or Thuri were able to pick up the old landline phone she still paid for every month even though nobody ever called her on it. She couldn’t quite shake the worry about her apartment.

Clambering up a desk organiser, Mairon peeped over the partition wall cautiously and then, leaping to his feet elegantly, shook his head in clear disappointment.

“What an insipid creature,” he groused, “just the right fit for you. Call him over.”

“What for?” Jane replied; she was too much of a coward to initiate a conversation with her crush and all the haunted dolls in the world wouldn’t change that.

“Hey, handsome man,” Melkor shouted in an awful imitation of a female voice at the same moment as Mairon kicked the wall behind him twice, “why don’t you come over here for a second?”

Sliding down her arm again, Melkor took up a place by her right hand, cramped around her mouse, and had the gall to grin broadly when Jane shot him a dumbfounded look.

A second later, a head popped over the partition.

“Me?” the man asked, heat flaring in his face; thankfully, he was so focused on Jane that he did not notice two small heads swivelling to look up at him.

“Yeah,” Jane said lamely, “give me a second, I’ll come over.”

She gave the two seemingly inanimate objects a withering stare and stood up.

“Ask him if he wants to see your cool lizard,” Melkor hissed.

“And your amazing bat,” Mairon added darkly.

Jane shook her head and left the cubicle.

“Funky dolls you have there,” her crush smiled as she slid into his small space, “a bit unsettling, but very cool!”

Say something, she screamed at herself inwardly, but no good idea came to her.

“Do you want to see my cool lizard?” she blurted out.

“You bring a lizard to work?” He cocked one eyebrow in mild curiosity.

“No,” Jane replied hastily, “it’s in my flat. I also have a…an amazing bat.”

Thrice cursed invaders! She would have come up with something better, given some time and the chance to put some thought into it, but – as things were – she had gone with what was ready.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, evidently confused and intrigued at the same time. “I’d love that. Bats are really nice. Don’t they carry diseases though?”

“Not mine,” Jane protested, “she’s the origin of all diseases, but she’s also the best bat anyone has ever seen. Just don’t let her bite you, I guess. My…lizard is also a really chill fellow.”

Oh my God, stop talking, she tried to admonish herself, but now that she had started, she couldn’t stem the tide of inane words bubbling forth.

“They are adorably cute,” she went on irrepressibly, “so whenever you’re free, swing by!”

“Sure thing,” he grinned. “How about you give me your number and I’ll see when I can get away from here? I could pick up some food on my way?”

She could only nod and, resisting the urge to fan herself, turned around to leave again.

“Jane?” he called after her. “I think you’ve been pranked. There are…” He plucked something off her lumpy cardigan and handed it to her. It was a paper cut-out in a very vulgar shape. “Your whole back is full of them.”

“Ah, Michael from accounting,” she chuckled nervously, “you know how he is.”

In truth, Michael from accounting would never have dreamed about sticking post-its representing lewd ideas and organs on a colleague’s back, but she could hardly tell him that her dolls were actually very much alive and had a terrible sense of humour, could she?

Maybe once she knew him a little better; after all, he had expressed interest in her little companions. She would very much have welcomed not being the only one knowing about them.

Returning to her desk, she opened google and checked if there was a “Being haunted by immortal demons for Dummies” book, but she couldn’t find anything. Surely, there were rules about whether you had to keep your situation a secret and tips on how to avoid utterly ruining your life.

“So, I take it, it went well? Did you use tacks?” Melkor whispered conspiratorially from a pile of fabric scraps that had once been a run-of-the-mill corporate mousepad.

“I did not,” Jane gasped. “Can we get you a bone or something to gnaw on?”

Melkor pondered this for a moment, watching the tops of other people’s heads float by the wall of her cubicle until his nostrils flared.

“I want what the sweaty man had,” he exclaimed so loudly that Jane tried to wave away the sound by flapping her hands uselessly.

It was a much-loathed colleague’s birthday today, so there was cake in the breakroom.

“If I get you two abominations cake, will you be good and let me work until lunch break?”

They both nodded obediently again and, this time, she was wary indeed. Nonetheless, she went and retrieved the cake that she put in front of her dolls, much to the mocking amusement of another woman who had followed Jane to her cubicle.

“Oh in the name of all that’s holy, Jane, this is pathetic even for you,” she sneered.

“Hmmm, believe me, there’s nothing holy about it,” Jane replied through pale, tightly drawn lips. She felt almost sorry for the harpy when she caught flashes of anger and enthusiasm rippling through what everyone thought were glass eyes set in unsettlingly charming porcelain faces.

“Cake first,” she warned resolutely and shoved all the tacks, the stapler, and even the pencil sharpener into her drawer and locked it.

It was a futile attempt, she knew, for Mairon could have turned the very paper plate into a shiv in a pinch, but she felt a little better – more innocent – if she at least tried to keep them from outright murdering her colleague in cold blood.

The woman thankfully walked away, sniggering; she was probably on the prowl for other colleagues with whom she could share her newest gossip about the laughably silly Jane.

“Do you want us to kill her?” Melkor asked casually as if murder was not a highly reprehensible crime.

Jane shook her head slowly; if she had been a powerful wielder of dark magic or at least a steadfast hero, she might have withstood the draw or even tried to gain some control over her demons, but – as she was but a woefully feeble, flawed, neglected wretch – she mustered up a warm smile instead.

“It’s okay,” she sighed, “I am used to it.”

“Not on our watch,” Mairon declared, already collecting bits and bobs of metal he had somehow extricated from her stationery to construct some miniature weapon. “We’ll get the old hag!”

“No blood,” Jane warned and chuckled when she saw their terribly disappointed little faces. “I am going to grab a sandwich; do you want anything, or did you eat your fill?”

They decided that she could bring them something with a lot of meat – just in case – and waved at her in an eerily friendly fashion that clearly foretold incredible wickedness in the near future.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys,” Jane tried to soothe herself, but she hastened to the sandwich shop and back only to find her dolls – who were very much her circus after all – neatly arranged on her desk and her colleague in tears.

Apparently, she had suffered spontaneous hair loss; the haphazard pattern of the bald patches – of varying sizes and degrees of severity – mystified everyone. Nobody had ever heard of a woman losing whole strands of hair all over her head within a mere quarter of an hour.

When the wailing chaos in the office turned into outright mayhem, their boss decided that everyone had had a shock and that they should probably go home for the day while a cleaning company made sure that there were no biochemical reasons for this unfortunate incident.

“See? We’re the best,” Melkor chirruped proudly from Jane’s bag and – for once – she couldn’t even truly disagree.

Eh, she does like them and they've been rather protective of her poor, little soul now...

Only...will Jane end up regretting inviting her crush home?

😂

@melkors-big-tits I'm sure you'll find a way of excusing their trespasses and mindless destruction haha

#fanfiction #crack #Mini-Melkor #check out Melkor (the user)'s drawings #Conjuring bad forces #and fumbling it #Worst OC in the world #the silm #the silmarillion #very much not serious #when an idea takes hold #and now you're writing a sitcom about mini-melkor

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