#there will likely be no direct continuation since i follow where the muse takes me

[hiding-in-the-vault]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

AND THIS IS DONE NOW.

They're all so normal and good at communicating and doing things

#dreblr #power trio #c!dream #c!sapnap #c!george #dsmp au #there will likely be no direct continuation since i follow where the muse takes me #thats how i dont get stuck ;p

[jobean12-blog]

A Place Made for Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (No-outbreak Joel)

Word Count: 5,081

Summary: You're new to the small town Joel's lived in all his life and just the sight of you has him feeling a certain way so when he learns that you've bought the old bookshop and you're moving into the apartment above, it turns his familiar world upside down.

Author's Note: This one got away from me. I love the idea of Joel just living his life and doing construction and being grumpy and then reader comes along and really gives him a run for his money. Had to include a bookshop for this because along with Joel, it's one of my favorite things. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

PS Bold font means texts and anything italics is like an inner thought lol

Warnings: grumpy Joel, sassy reader, tension, flirting, softness and smiles, fluff and sweetness

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You trudge down the canned food aisle feeling completely indecisive but hungry and growing more aggravated by the second.

As you round the next corner you’re sifting through the contents of your basket when you walk headfirst into what feels like the wall.

“Ow!” you yelp as you stumble back.

A strong arm wraps around your waist to steady you and you look up, blinking.

“Better watch where you’re goin’ there darlin’.”

Your body tenses at the feel of him pressed against you and you mutter something inaudible under your breath before slipping from his grasp.

“Not even a thank you,” he muses as he turns to follow you.

“Weren’t you going the other way?” you shoot back.

“Just realized I forgot the pasta,” he says, leaning over your shoulder to whisper the words close to your ear.

You force your betraying body to remain calm at his proximity and then ignore the comment.

“What the hell are you gonna make with that mish mosh?” he asks as he peeks into your basket.

“Why do you care?” you counter with a brittle smirk.

He shrugs as the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin.

“Maybe something to poison you with…that would be nice.”

Your sassy remark makes his whole face light up with a smile and it momentarily roots you to the spot.

With one last disgruntled glance you stomp off in the other direction. “Since I’m new here you’d think you’d be a little more neighborly!”

“Fuck,” Joel mutters as he follows you.

“Ok darlin’.”

“Ok what?” you ask as you turn to face him.

“Maybe…” and he paused, studying you. “I could be a bit more friendly.”

He looks back down at your basket.

“You know if you grab some beans and a pepper you’ll be well on your way to making a great chili.”

“Chili,” you repeat.

You look between him and the basket. “That works. Although…”

“You’ve never made it before?”

At his question you fight back a sigh.

“No. I haven’t. But I’m capable of looking up a recipe.”

“Or I could just tell you about some good take-out places.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can manage to cook my own dinner, thanks!”

At the sarcasm in your tone his grin widens before he starts to step around you, his arm brushing yours with the motion.

“Great darlin.’ Just don’t burn the place down or anything. It’s the only bookshop in the neighborhood and we all love it.”

He winks and saunters off.

The urge to turn around and watch him is almost overwhelming but you square your shoulder and keep your chin up. “I can make chili,” you assure yourself.

Joel sits across from Tommy and sips his beer, waiting for his brother to make a dinner choice.

If Tommy notices Joel glancing too many times at the small bookshop across the street, he doesn’t mention it.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Tommy remarks as he drops the menu and leans back. “What’s on your mind?”

Joel grunts before looking across the street again. “Work.”

“This new job we have is a big one. I want it to go perfectly so they hire us for the rest of it.” Joel continues.

Tommy nods in agreement but he’s battling a smile.

“Somethin’ you wanna say brother?” Joel asks.

Tommy grins. “I might have somethin’ to say.”

Joel grinds his teeth and tightens his grip on the beer bottle.

“Heard you had a little exchange with our new bookshop owner at the grocery store this mornin’.”

“Who said?” Joel asks, pinning Tommy with dark eyes.

“No one of importance,” Tommy shrugs. “You’re starin’ a hole through the window.”

Tommy’s eyes glitter. He’s clearly enjoying himself. “Heard she didn’t back down and run off over your…charm.”

“You’re worse than a school girl. Spreadin’ gossip around.”

That makes Tommy laugh and he takes a swig of his drink.

“Still,” Tommy says. “I can’t blame you…she’s real nice to look at and probably a lot of fun when you get her goin’…which you seem to enjoy doin’.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns as his jaw tightens. “Don’t go sniffin’ around any of that and don’t ask me to explain why.”

Tommy dips his head in understanding, his mouth tight in a straight line but his eyes bright with amusement.

“Not a single sniff. You’ve got my word brother…”

Tommy’s head swings around and his attention settles on something happening in the street. “What the hell…?”

Joel jerks his head in the same direction and in matter of seconds he’s out of his chair and charging through the door.

Without thinking he runs toward you and let’s out a breath when he looks you over, the large pot between your fingers and a garbage bag over your shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” you breathe, staring at him. “Where the hell did you come from?”

His relief at the fact that you’re unharmed is obvious even as he takes the pot from you and grabs your wrists, turning your hands over to check.

His skin is warm and his fingers are calloused. The sensations cause your mind to go blank and you stand there motionless.

Once he’s satisfied he looks down at the pot and the black contents inside. He’s still holding your wrists.

“I burnt it,” you say quietly. “The whole upstairs apartment smells awful so I thought I’d better get rid of it quick before the shop started to stink.”

“I can take care…” Tommy begins to speak and Joel whips his head around just now realizing he was even standing there and glares so Tommy snaps his mouth shut.

Joel looks back at you and slowly releases you, the loss of his touch something you instantly feel.

Tommy covers a cough and you drag your eyes away from Joel to glance at his younger brother.

“Hey,” Tommy says and extends his hand.

You reach out and shake it to introduce yourself.

“I was saying I could help you out with that but I think my brother here has it under control,” Tommy quips.

“Damn right I do,” Joel says, hands on his hips.

“Thanks Tommy, I appreciate the offer,” you smile.

Tommy tips his head and walks back across the street to the bar.

Joel’s hard eyes turn to you in an assessing way but he remains silent.

“Aren’t you going to make some shitty remark about my cooking skills,” you snip.

His broad shoulders slump and he holds out his hand.

“Here, give me the bag.”

You hand the bag over and watch as he empties what he can of the contents and then stares down at it with pursed lips.

“Might have to…” he starts.

“You can just get rid…” you say at the same time.

He drops the pot into the bag with a laugh.

It catches you off guard and when he meets your eyes again the surprise is evident in your wide-eyed expression.

“No shitty remarks darlin.’ Just glad you’re ok…and you didn’t burn the place down.”

The last part of his comment trails off into quiet mumblings but you still catch it.

“Couldn’t help yourself huh?” you say but you’re fighting back a small smile.

The two of you stand there on the sidewalk for what feels like forever until Joel clears his throat and you look up at him through your lashes.

“Guess your dinner’s ruined,” he states.

“You could say that. I’ll have to go aimlessly walk around the grocery store some more in the hopes of finding food.”

His large hand runs through his already mussed hair before it settles on the back of his head and he shoves his free hand into his jeans pocket.

“Hey uh, listen darlin’…I’m sorry if I was rude earlier…at the store…and the other times before that. It was wrong of me.”

Your expression softens.

“Thank you, I accept.”

Joel hums and flicks his head toward the bar. “I had just ordered dinner before you came running out. Go in and eat it.”

When you stare at him he plays back his words and realizes they came out as a demand.

“If you want to,” he adds. “Join me. For food.”

You smile and slide past him. Your distinct and soft scent wafts up to his nose and he instinctively inhales, his eyes closing briefly before he starts to move to follow you.

He motions to the small table and pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before he does the same. His thick fingers wrap around the fork, making it look comically small, before he hands it to you and pushes the plate closer.

You stab a French fry and pop it in your mouth.

“So Tommy…you guys work together?”

“Yeah. Construction. We actually have a big project coming up in the city. Working on one of the new fancy hotel buildings.

“That sounds exciting. I guess it’s not really a 9-5 job then?”

“Nah, not really. Some days we spend doing small, odd jobs around the neighborhood and other times we’ll be on one job for weeks or months.”

You nod. “What do you do in your spare time? Besides follow women around the grocery store and make snarky comment on their food choices.”

“Gonna hold that over my head for long?” he asks.

You look him over and pretend to think about it. “Not sure yet.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs, noticing you stopped eating and nudging your arm with his elbow. “Eat.”

“Are you always this bossy?” you ask as you chew.

His eyes drop to your mouth and the way you lick the salt from your lips.

“Maybe,” he replies, the sides of his mouth twitching with a smile.

“Fair enough,” you tell him, mirroring his earlier words.

The whites of his teeth appear with his lopsided smile

“You plannin’ on trying to cook chili again?”

“Maybe,” you answer, loving the way his eyes crinkle at your repeated and mocking words.

“So now that you know a little more about me why not tell me why you’re here in our little town?”

He settles his forearms on the table and leans in, watching you with intense eyes.

“Well,” you start with a sigh. “I’ve always wanted to run or own a bookshop but my job in the city was keeping me so busy I barely had time to read and of course it’s easier said than done. For a while I didn’t mind…the work that is. Sure I was busy but I figured my life was just what it was supposed to be. Had a nice apartment, steady job, steady boyfriend…until I didn’t. He broke up with me over a text and then refused to answer my calls and explain why. After that, my job became less and less appealing as did living in the city so when his opportunity came up I had to jump on it as scary as all the change is.”

You wait and hold his gaze. “What are you thinking?” you ask.

“I’m thinking a lot of things,” he says quietly before stealing a fry off the plate.

“Like?” you ask.

Like where I can find your ex-boyfriend so I can give him a proper beating.

When he still doesn’t speak you continue talking. “I’m thinking about the renovations I want to make to the bookshop. It’s nothing crazy. Just some minor changes to make it more of a cozy space.”

“That sounds nice,” he answers. “It could use some upgrades.”

“Definitely. And the door to my apartment upstairs doesn’t even lock! I need to get that fixed first.”

Joel’s eyes narrow at your statement. “That’s not safe.”

You smirk and steal the next fry that’s dangling between his fingers as they hover over the plate.

“Maybe I’ll look up some cute contractors online to come help me.”

He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs wider under the table. Your gaze moves to the way his biceps pop under the tight fabric of his shirt.

“You could. If you wanted the job done poorly.”

“Are you saying you’d be able to do a better job?”

“Damn right darlin.”

Was this still about renovations to the shop?

With that thought still floating around in his brain he watches you stand and pop one last fry into your mouth.

“Thank you for sharing your dinner with me,” you say before rounding the table. “I like it when you’re nice.”

And I even like it when you’re bossy. Maybe too much.

You kept that last thought tucked away and lean down to kiss him on the cheek before lightly brushing your hand over his shoulder and walking out the door.

Tommy drops into the now empty seat, grinning ear to ear.

“How’d that go boss?” he asks.

“Shut it,” Joel growls.

Later that week with the sun just peeking above the horizon you hear a knock at your door. It startles you into alertness and you sit up with a gasp, dropping your book to the bed.

Your feet hit the cool floor and you ask, “who’s there?,” hoping to keep the shakiness from your voice.

“It’s Joel.”

“Oh,” you whisper, now suddenly even more alert but much less jumpy.

Before you open the door you quickly run a hand over your face and scrub away the sleepiness. You turn the knob and have it halfway open before you realize you’re barely dressed, the only thing covering your body is the old tee shirt that hits way above your knees.

You stop and peek through.

“I’m um…I’m not really dressed. I was in bed reading.”

“Shit,” Joel mutters. “Sorry darlin.’ I didn’t even realize the time. I can wait till you’ve put somethin’ on.”

He doesn’t move away from the door and you open it a little wider before slipping away to grab shorts.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly but not quietly enough and your lips turn up into a triumphant smile.

When you return you open the door invitingly and then notice the toolbox at his feet and meet his eyes.

His cheeks are dusted with pink and not even the scruff lining them can cover it. It’s hard to hide your smug satisfaction but you do your best.

“What’s that for?” you ask.

“I came to change the lock for you,” he explains hoarsely.

“Oh,” you answer, feeling your stomach erupt with nervous energy. “Why?”

“I’m leaving this morning. To go to the city and start on that hotel job. Won’t be back for a few days. I just…”

He kneels down and starts rummaging through the tool box, metal clanging against metal so you can barely hear him when he adds, “wanted to make sure this place was safe and secure.”

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your old shirt.

“That’s really nice of you.”

“Well.” He stands and starts working on the door. “I saw you hadn’t done it yet and I didn’t want you calling any random guys.”

“Because you can do it better. Right?”

He doesn’t look up from his work and just grunts his acknowledgement.

You take the opportunity to move toward the small kitchen area and start making some coffee.

“Coffee?” you offer.

He looks up at you as you lean against the counter with your bare legs on display. His eyes drag down the length of them before he shakes his head no.

“Already had a cup thanks.”

He finishes the lock and puts his tools away before approaching. His hand moves to his back pocket and he pulls out some folded papers, setting them on the counter.

“I brought some take out menus.”

“It’s probably too early to be insulted.”

“This isn’t me telling you not to cook. These are just in case you don’t want to cook.”

“Ah,” you answer. “I could have just looked this up online.”

“Yeah well I don’t have your number so how would you know the best places to get take out.”

You stare at him from over the rim of your steaming mug.

“Maybe you should take it,” he says abruptly. “My number…in case…”

“I need cooking advice again?”

He makes an affirmative nod and smiles.

“Ok, what’s your number?” you ask as you reach for your phone.

The relief on his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you and he recites the digits as you punch them in.

When you hit dial on his contact his eyebrows draw together as if he’s trying to figure out where the sound is coming from.

“That’s you. Now you’ll have my number too.”

You giggle and the corner of his mouth lifts a little. “Right.”

You set your coffee down and push yourself up onto the countertop.

With one more almost imperceptible sweep of your legs he coughs into his fist and turns toward the door.

“Thanks Joel!” you call after him.

He waves with barely a turn and flies down the steps.

The rest of your day is spent figuring out the renovations for the bookshop space downstairs. You clean, declutter, and really start to map things out in your head. By the time the late afternoon sun is setting you realize you’ve missed lunch and you’re starving.

“I should try chili again,” you say to yourself.

After a quick and much less exciting visit to the grocery store you head back with a bag full of Joel’s recommended ingredients and get to work.

Two hours later you have a large pot of bubbling and unburnt chili on the stove.

Without thinking too much into it you snap a picture of the food and send it to Joel with the caption, “I did it! And it smells amazing!”

Before you even put your phone down his response dings in.

“Wow darlin.’ Looks amazing. Save me some.”

You’re about to reply that you definitely will when another text comes through.

“And I’m hoping you didn’t burn anything down?”

He follows it with a silly smiling emoji and you answer with, “nope! Everything and everyone is intact,” including your own smiley face emoji.

“Perfect. And I meant it. Save me some.”

“Please…” you type and then send another message saying, “so bossy!”

He responds quickly. “Save me some. Please.”

He adds a kissy smiley face and you giggle before sending one back with a thumbs up.

It’s easy to flirt over text. You aren’t overwhelmed by his masculine and sexy presence. By the smell of him. Woodsy and spicy. And his hands aren’t there teasing to touch you.

All you can think of while you enjoy your bowl of chili is how you can’t wait for him to come back this weekend.

When Joel returns from his trip he rushes home to shower and change. It’s already late but he needs to see you and you should have a bowl of chili waiting for him.

When he pulls up to the bookshop and parks his pickup he frowns at the darkened space.

Maybe you’re out? With someone…

Pushing the invasive thoughts aside he gets out and walks to the large windows, peering inside.

Nothing.

The scuffle of feet pulls his attention away and he catches sight of you sitting across the street by the park, your feet dangling along the pavement.

He approaches slowly, making noise so you don’t get scared. You look up and tense but instantly relax at the sight of him.

“Was wonderin’ where you were,” he murmurs.

“You’re back,” you say. “I have chili for you.”

You half smile but your eyes fall.

His chest tightens.

“Darlin’?” he asks before sitting down next to you.

His thigh brushes yours and his arm is close enough that you feel his warmth.

Your sniffle and hug your arms around your body.

Hesitantly he lifts his arm and rests it lightly across your shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

When you don’t pull away and instead lean into his strength he tugs you closer.

“I tried to start doing some work on the bookshop. I just wanted to take off the old and peeling wall paper but I think I fucked things up. I’m not sure how to fix it and really I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s a mess.”

Your confession softens him and he runs his calloused fingertips along your smooth skin, sneaking them under the sleeve of your shirt.

“I’ll take a look at it. I’m sure we can fix it.”

You were so soft. It took everything in him not to pull you even closer and wrap you in his arms.

“It’s a mess. I’m a mess. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t put yourself down. It pisses me off.”

You look up at him and gasp. “You? Pissed off? That’s new.”

The corner of his lips lift and his eyes sparkle. “I deserve that.”

You wipe your nose and give him a smile.

“Maybe. But only a little.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and sigh.

“We’ll sort it out,” he assures you.

You look at him with soft eyes full of gratefulness. His gaze moves lower…to your mouth and his lips part as if to speak but the sound of a loud car horn makes you jump apart.

“How about that chili?” you ask as you start to stand.

“Sounds great darlin’.”

You walk toward the building, tensing at his side the closer you get, knowing he’s going to see the disaster you’ve made.

He stops you with a hand over yours.

“For what it’s worth,” he whispers. “I think you’re really brave for comin’ here to start over.”

The tension slips from your shoulders and you take his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You did it,” you murmur. “I’m still upset but…I feel better. More hopeful.”

He smiles before you turn to unlock the door and your hyperaware of the feel of his hard body behind you. It takes everything in you not to turn around and throw yourself at him but you manage to get the door open and offer him some chili.

The next day, being Sunday, should be a day of rest but your new-found determination has you up and out of bed bright and early, ready to conquer the wallpaper debacle and then some.

You’re saved from wondering where to start when the front door of the shop opens and in walks Joel with a tray of coffee and a bakery bag.

“Hey there darlin’,” he says. “Thought you’d be up and ready to work.”

“Hey back,” you wave.

He fills the doorway with his body and you try to focus on the smell of fresh coffee and sugar.

“That for me?” you ask and point to the tray in his hand.

“Yeah.”

He crosses the small distance and places the tray down on one of the old tables. You reach for the coffee and open the top, inspecting the contents of the cup.

“You know how I take my coffee?” you ask, raising a brow.

“I pay attention,” is all the answer you get.

You stood dumbfounded for a moment until you remembered that you had made coffee the other morning when he fixed the lock on the door upstairs.

“Thank you.”

Your gaze travels to his and there is some kind of silent communication between you. You can’t believe how much he can convey without actually speaking. Your breathing becomes shallower as he continues to look at you and you know, by the determined set of his jaw and confidence simmering in his gaze that things have really shifted.

When he finally pulls his eyes away you let out an audible breath and take a sip of your coffee.

“What’s happening here?” he asks as he looks over the mess of a wall. “You want to get rid of this?”

He moves closer and toys with the wallpaper.

“Yes and then I want to…”

You start rattling off your ideas in a long run-on rambling sentence without taking a break and when you’re finally done you find him eyeing you with both an amused and thoughtful expression.

“Right,” he said. “Well I know a good place to get lumber and all that so we can shop later but for now let’s get this cleaned up.”

He turns and strides for the exit, passing your trash bag from yesterday that was too heavy for you to lift.

“You want this out for pick up?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you respond.

With zero effort, he tosses the bag over his shoulder and walks out. When he returns he’s carrying his toolbox.

You peer through the window and see his pickup truck and one trip at a time, he brings more supplies and tools.

Grabbing the back of his sweatshirt he drags it up and off, bringing his tee shirt underneath along with it, and you catch a glimpse of what’s beneath.

“Shit,” you mutter.

Now that he’s only in a tee shirt you can see the deep cut of his triceps and forearm muscles every time he lifts or handles something.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“You alright there darlin’?” he asks when he hears your quiet reflections.

“Huh? Me? Oh yeah, just fine thanks. Um…I want to help so just tell me what to do…you know be bossy. You’re good at that.”

He steps closer with a sideways smirk, his warmth coasting over you, and his gaze falls to your mouth, taking it’s time before finding your eyes again.

“Keep ripping that wallpaper down. I know it looks a mess but you’re doing it right.”

The words themselves hold no sensuality at all but the way he says them, the way he leans in close and whispers them along your ear…it sends a shiver right down your spine.

As the days pass you continue to work and make progress on the shop. Some days it’s just you and Joel and other days Tommy joins you both to help. On the days when Joel has to work he gives you detailed instructions on what to do and how to do it. You’re proud of how much you’ve accomplished together but also on your own.

At the end of the week, with the late afternoon sun already making it’s way toward the horizon, you notice the shop is oddly quiet. No sound of the saw or hammer.

“I have something to show you.”

His low and gravelly voice pulls you from your current task of polishing the small table tops and your nerves fire up.

When you stand and walk closer he looks you over from head to toe. You’re covered in dust and your skin is glowing with a light sheen of sweat.

You look down at yourself then back up at him.

“Is it that bad?” you ask with a halfhearted smile.

“You look beautiful.”

He holds his hand out and you take it, letting him pull you toward the back of the shop.

You step behind the last row of bookshelves and stop short.

“Joel…”

The large bay window is now framed by two brand new floor to ceiling dark shelves. The polished wood gleams in the setting sun and every beautiful accent swirl and grain is highlighted.

“It’s amazing! I just…I love it. Thank you!”

He takes the rag from his back pocket and cleans his hands while he watches you from under the dark strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead.

“Glad you like it darlin’.”

“No. I love it Joel. How can I ever thank you.”

“Have dinner with me…and not here…on the floor of the shop like we do some days. A real date.”

You suck in a small breath and curl your fingers together. “Did you think you needed to build me this to convince me to go on a date with you?”

“No,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I was workin’ up the nerve to ask you and this was a good distraction.”

“Oh…” You say the words and your mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape. “I…I mean…of course. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

He looks down at his feet and nods firmly, a smile playing on his lips. “Alright then.”

He starts to gather and pack up his tools. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

You shake your head yes and realize you’re not speaking and as he turns to walk away you move forward while calling his name.

One second he’s holding the tool box and the next it’s on the ground next to him and he’s turning toward you. Your momentum brings you right into his chest and his arm wraps around your lower back.

He waits for you to speak, his eyes wandering over the features of your face before focusing in on your parted lips. His fingers splayed along your lower back dig into your skin and he tugs you closer as he dips his head.

Your palms land flat on his hard chest and slowly dance upward along his broad shoulders.

“Thank you.”

The words are just a whisper but you manage to get them passed your lips and he looks like he’s about to speak but instead covers your mouth with his.

The kiss is worshipful but you can feel his restraint in the tense and flexing muscles of his body and your fingers find purchase at the back of his neck and comb through his hair.

His hand slides up your back and he presses you closer as he lifts the other to cup your jaw. The callouses on the pad of his thumb scrape deliciously across your soft skin and he moans like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

When the need for air finally takes over he releases your mouth just long enough to look into your eyes before he dives back in, stealing your breath all over again.

The door to the shop opens, the newly installed bell atop it ringing loud and clear through your kiss filled haze.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Tommy says sheepishly when he appears by the window.

Joel breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with harsh breaths and he stares at your mouth for a few long moments while you cling to him. His hand eventually drops away from your back and his fingers trace along your jaw and then down your neck to pull your ear to his lips.

“Tomorrow night,” he murmurs. “Six.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @lizette50 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #bookshop

[silkjade]

alhaitham x mermaid! reader (4)

⤀ warnings: fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned, reader has hair long enough to be pinned, a bit of angst but ends w fluff — ꒰ 3.9k wc ꒱ a/n: recommended to read the previous parts first, since this is a direct continuation. this ended up being way longer than intended lol next ﾉ series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

There are few things considered perfect, but this night spent among the treetops of sumeru city, certainly comes close. The cool breeze is a welcomed remedy for a day spent under the sun, and below, the warm glow of the city’s lanterns illuminate the street, alive and effervescent in the serenity of the night. 

“I’ve never been so high up,” you muse, carelessly throwing a smile at alhaitham who stands a little ways behind you, leaning against a pillar. 

Admittedly, razan garden isn’t very high up at all, but he bites back a smart remark, not realizing how his eyes soften as he watches you take in the sights with wonder. You’re radiant even under the low glow of the fireflies, and between the leaves and the padisarahs, even he can’t help but think you’ve walked right out of a children's storybook. 

“I can do you one better,” he offers, jutting his chin upwards, higher up the divine tree. 

Your eyes follow, but your voice wavers in your reply and you hesitate to take his outstretched hand. For one who normally dwells so deep beneath the sea, you think you’re already plenty high up the ground. Alhaitham easily reads into your reluctance, but with time, you too have learned to read the marginal variations in his expressions. 

That tiny curve to his lips and the slight dip in his brow—he teases you when he says, “I promise to catch you if you fall.” But his eyes soften just a fraction, and you know his words are genuine.

“Well you shouldn’t let me fall in the first place,” you shoot back, ignoring the way he rolls his eyes, and taking his hand regardless.

“Hold onto me,” he says simply, and your breath hitches in surprise as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest; a stark reminder that he is indeed not a feeble scholar at all. You scramble to hold on, but within the next second you feel yourself flying through the air, clinging on to this vision wielder for dear life. 

Alhaitham rationalizes that such an exceptionally rare visitor warrants an equally exceptional attraction—even if it’s only so that he might chance to see the way your eyes sparkle with delight. And it certainly doesn’t help that he quite enjoys the feel of you latching onto him, but he files the thought away for another time.

“You can open your eyes now.” 

When you’re sure your feet are planted on solid ground, you loosen your grip, untangling your limbs from his. 

“Next time, a warning would be nice.” 

“And where would be the fun in that?” he smirks.

Nestled among the thick branches of the divine tree, is his personal haven: hidden far from prying eyes, and high enough to drown out the noises of the city. He supposes that an overarching view of the surrounding forests is an added plus as well.

“I often come here to be alone. It’s peaceful.”

“And it’s got quite the view. I’ve never seen anything like it.” You keep your tone hushed, as if it might somehow shatter the tranquility.

This place… it’s new and fascinating, just like everything else you’ve experienced since meeting alhaitham. Before you, vast forests spread as far as your eye can see, and below you, the vantage point makes it easy to people-watch. 

Despite the nearly two weeks you’ve spent here on land, you still find humans so interesting. Maybe not humans specifically, but the workings of human intimacy are… certainly noteworthy. As you peer over the tangle of leaves and branches, a young couple embraces under a streetlamp. You sneak a glance at alhaitham beside you.

“The city talks about us often. They think we’re lovers.” 

He clears his throat, hoping to catch his choked breath and rid himself of the faint blush that speckles his cheeks; he’s long foresaw this as one possible outcome of your relationship, but he hadn’t expected, much less intended, for your words to still affect him as much as it does. He’s well aware of the rumors and ignores them as he always does, but he wonders what sparked the topic—it’s not a conversation he hopes to delve into. 

Following your line of sight, he too sees the couple below. “Well we’re clearly not, so no need to entertain idle gossip.” 

"Would it be so terrible though if we were…?" It slips out before you even get the chance to reel yourself back in.  

Lovers. The word tastes bittersweet on his tongue. Alhaitham keeps his heart lidded so that frivolous wishes cannot compromise his mind, but just the term itself is able to bring his emotions to a boil, threatening to spill over what he’s so carefully shoved down.

“I don't really see the point in dwelling on hypothetical situations.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” For a second, your brows knit together in worry. “Are you not attracted to me anymore?” Were humans so fickle that even after a night of– 

"It’s not that,” he interrupts quickly, eyes raking you up and down as he turns to face you, the tips of his ears flushed pink as he attempts to fix his composure. 

“And no, it wouldn’t be terrible at all but… it’d be highly irrational,” he pauses to gauge your reaction; a wrinkle in your brow paints your state of perplexity. “What kind of chance would we have under these circumstances? It’d only end in disappointment."

“What if it doesn’t?” There’s a sliver of hope that dances in your eyes, and it aches for him to accept that such are the unfortunate circumstances in which he finally experiences the longstanding debate between the head and the heart. 

Making the rational choice is easy when he has little to no emotional investment in the matter, but even the brilliance of his mind dulls to the way you puppet him like a marionette, tugging at every one of his heartstrings and bending him to your will. A daring voice in his head urges him to just take the risk and deal with any future repercussions when they come, to just take the leap and let himself freely love you as he so desires. 

But the grand scribe—famously aloof, cold, rational—sees the truth for what it is.

“The odds are heavily stacked against us. By the sheer law of probability, it could never work.”

To use a word as definitive as never, he’s not entirely sure who he’s trying to convince: you or himself. Regardless, he believes it'd be easier to just rip the bandage off. It would sting now, but it'd save a world of hurt for the both of you in the long run.

"And probability in itself is only a strong likelihood," you argue, before your voice falls into a quiet waver. "Are we… not even worth the chance?" 

Alhaitham knows the definition of probability, knows that nothing is absolute, save for your obvious physiological differences. It's a calculated risk—one he doesn't believe to be worth taking, especially when pursuing you romantically would bring more than its fair share of obstacles. Inevitable obstacles that would no doubt grow more apparent in the face of these foolish fantasies. Perhaps this makes him a coward, but it’s better than to raise false hopes. He too has a heart to hurt.

"I'm sorry." 

It’s easy to miss the way his eyes are more honest than his words, when your cheeks are burning and your heart is sinking. ‘Shameless mermaid,’ he had once said, so perhaps there is a lesson to learn in the human notions of shame and regret and heartache. 

The following morning doesn’t fare much better. In the aftermath of the night’s events, you couldn’t bare, hadn’t wanted to bare, the sight of your tail in that saltwater bath. Yet despite the fact that you distinctly remember falling asleep on the living room divan, you wake up in the familiar comfort of his bed. If he were more cruel, perhaps your heart would hurt less.

You sit up as the sound of his roommate’s muffled voice seeps through the walls, followed by the heavy thud of what you can only assume to be the front door. ‘For the sake of the akademiya, I hope you work out whatever lovers’ quarrel you have going on.’ You wince at kaveh’s words, but the bedroom door creaks, jerking you from your thoughts, and opening to reveal none other than alhaitham himself. 

“I…,” he hadn’t wished to disturb your slumber, but now his mouth runs dry trying to come up with something to say, other than a pathetic ‘sorry.’ For once, he’s at a loss for words, so he grabs his keys and retreats back out to the hallway.  

You wait until you hear the front door click before flopping back into the pillows. While your kind doesn’t particularly revere the archons of teyvat, you nevertheless thank lesser lord kusanali simply for the fact that alhaitham returns to work today, leaving you with the freedom to roam the city. It’ll be a good chance to clear your head. 

The air has been suffocatingly thick as of late, and even the sun seems to mock you, beating down hot and shining brighter than ever in your misery. It’s fair to say you don’t make it very far before growing increasingly fatigued, legs beginning to buckle as you walk. 

Beneath the shade of a brightwood tree, you try to recall the amount of days you’ve spent on land. Under normal circumstances, your human body would have given out after a week, but the saltwater baths in alhaitham’s tub have about doubled your time on land. 

Perhaps it’s good that all things must come to an end. While you can’t force him to love you, you can try to salvage whatever might be left of this relationship. Alhaitham… seemed to be faring fine. It’s you who should swallow your feelings, so for now, distance may just be the best step forward. 

All rivers flow to the ocean, and while it’s too conspicuous to swim there in broad daylight—you scout the banks of yazadaha pool until you spot a few eremite mercenaries lounging around a small boat—you could definitely charter a ride. 

“Please take me to the port.”

A gruff man crosses his arms. “You got the mora?”

Not a single one. In the time you’ve spent on land, alhaitham had readily purchased everything to your frivolous delight. You entertain the thought of talking your way into a free charter, though considering the circumstances, you’re not sure how much allure your voice can draw in this form. 

“That’s a nice hairpin you’ve got though. Must be worth a pretty price.” Tensing, you frown as your hand flies to clutch the emerald pin sitting in your hair.

No. You couldn’t possibly give up something you so cherish. It was a gift from alhaitham; one you hadn’t asked for, but was instead given to you of his own accord. It was… consolation for reading over some random akademiya papers, you remember.

Your arm falls limp as you tug the piece from your hair. Perhaps now you realize that everything he felt for you was only worth the weight of this pin. Still, it’s difficult to control the tremble in your hands as you toss the ornament to the nearest mercenary.

With one last glance towards the akademiya, you wonder if he’d miss you in your absence, but you know alhaitham, and you know he values simplicity and comfort in his daily life—he’d breathe easier without the strained air. 

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, Alhaitham stalks towards the tavern. Others at the akademiya might describe him as difficult to work with today—even more so than usual. And maybe it would be hypocritical of him, considering all the times he’s scolded kaveh, but his back aches from a night spent on the divan, and his mind is unfocused, filled only with thoughts of you. It wasn’t right how he had left things with you, and despite his mask of apathy, it eats away at his insides. He needed a drink. 

Just as he reaches for the doors, a sunray hits just right, sending a beam of refracted light into his eyes. He winces, passing an irritated glare to the source, before his eyes widen, freezing in his tracks. His stomach churns as he marches toward the group of eremites gathered at a table.

One of them twirls a hairpin in his hands—brilliant and gold, decorated with emerald gems. He demands to know its origins, and when he learns you had traded it for a ride to port ormos, he grits his teeth.

Knowing you, and based on past experience, he had expected you’d do the utmost to avoid him, but he had grossly underestimated how much his chest would ache in your absence, or how it terrifies his heart that he may lose you, should you choose to disappear forever. He must find you, but first...

“Name your price.”

The cold seawater is quite literally a breath of fresh air, revitalizing you in a way the sun and earth never could. Your head clears and your senses are sharpened, leaving much room for introspection as you sink down onto the ocean floor.

The heavy silence is a far cry from the liveliness you’ve grown accustomed to. Beneath the waves, the stars don’t shine and the moon's brilliant glow is scattered and diffused until it's dim and unrecognizable. It ripples with the water—distorted—like your perception. 

'Clearly not lovers.' The words replay again and again in your mind. You've seen the way couples in sumeru city behaved, and based on your observations, you hadn’t thought the two of you were much different. 

He had given you gifts, large and small, sheltered you in his own home, protected you when you were most vulnerable. You've kissed and you've lain together and he had whispered sweet words that called you his. It was a wonderful dream, painted in saccharine colors, but a dream nonetheless it seems. You are not who he wants. You’re not even what he wants. You are a mermaid.

'It could never work.' He’s given you every reason to believe there might be something more but deep down, you know he’s probably right. The word human has never felt more jarring, as it seems human intimacy is named as such, precisely because it's where the line is drawn. You spare a melancholy glance at your magnificent tail, but it has never looked more ordinary.

Overhead, a shadow blocks out the watery beams of the moon before a splash breaks the surface and a chunk of crystal ore sinks under the waves. After some time, another follows, and then another—too many to be a mere coincidence.

Every bone in your body screams to leave him be, that no, you shouldn’t come at his beck and call, especially if you hope to nurse your wounded heart. Still, a part of you is elated that he's come to chase after you, and against your better judgment, you swim up, just shy of the surface, hidden by the darkness of night. As long as you didn’t reveal yourself, although… maybe if he begs, you think.

Unfortunately, alhaitham has studied the water enough times to recognize the subtle movements that give you away. He peers closer, still only barely catching a faint flicker of light—the brilliant gleam of your tail. When you don’t surface, he takes to more drastic measures, hoping you’d forgive him for more than just the bait.  

“If you really didn’t want to see me, you wouldn’t still be hanging around here.”

You scoff, slightly offended by his baseless assumption, yet irritated at the fact that he’s not particularly wrong either. 

“Please, this has been my cove long since before you showed up.” Pulling yourself onto the nearby rocks, you sit opposite him, tail still swishing in vex beneath the surface. With your cover blown, you might as well indulge in your curiosity. “Why are you here.” 

Between the moon and the sea, the pale light glows like a halo around you, like a figment of his dreams—ethereal and out of reach. But what matters now, is that you’re here, and real, and should you let him, he doesn’t intend to let you go again. 

“These are for you,” he states simply, a bouquet of padisarahs in hand. You frown. He brings you flowers as you’ve seen lovers do, but you are clearly not lovers. Your heart can weather the storm of his rejection, but if he’s here to toy with you… then he must have forgotten who is vulnerable in these waters.  

“With the way things ended, the thought that I might never see you again…” 

As his voice trails off, his mask slips just a little, and you wonder if he can recognize the casual cruelty of his words. The dichotomy of being more than friends, yet less than lovers, how he does not wish to lose you, and yet he does not want you. If he was merciful, he’d let you go. Your eyes shift to the waters—it’d be easy to just dive in and disappear beneath the depths, spare yourself the humiliation of whatever might come next, but his gentle grasp on your arm begs you not to go.

"So give me a reason to stay."

“Because I want you to,” he whispers, but you shake your head.

"It's not enough." 

He tries again. "Because I want you."

The air hangs heavy above your heads, the tension like a bow drawn taut. The silence seems to tick for forever before you finally respond, guarded.

“Why the change of heart.”

Alhaitham swallows, his kaleidoscope eyes boring into yours. “There was never anything to change.”

He’s always been apt with his words, but there's a twinge of fear and hurt and desperation in his voice that undermines his normally confident tone. It shakes your resolve to keep him at arm's length but if what he says is true, if there's an underlying message woven between the lines… then perhaps it’s worth the risk to lay bare before him once again.

“And how do you want me?” Your movements are hesitant when your hand smoothes over his cheek, but he relaxes under your touch—turning his face into your palm and letting out a breath as if soothed by your acknowledgment. "Because I want to be yours, haitham. I love-”

"Not like this," he interrupts. Gingerly, he wraps his fingers around your wrists, guiding your hands back down until his face is left cold without your touch, but he never lets go: not when your shoulders sink and your bottom lip trembles, and certainly not as he laces his fingers through yours.

If nothing else, he must remain sensible. Even if he's to make the most irrational decision in the world, he should at least do it right. 

"I want a life that suits the both of us," he starts. You refuse to meet his gaze, waiting for the inevitable but. But it’s impossible. But it’s irrational.

But it never comes.

“Make another deal with me,” he continues as your brows furrow and confusion clouds your eyes. “Wait for me, and I’ll find a way.”

“You’re very confident for someone who doesn’t know if such a solution even exists.”

A love that hangs on the promise of another deal; how fitting for the two of you whose relationship had flourished on the merit of exchanging knowledge. But he’s confident in his abilities as a researcher and a scholar. 

“Sumeru is the epicenter of knowledge. Our deserts hide many mysteries, even to this day.” 

"And if one day I decide I’m tired of waiting…?" you ask, even though he’s promised to return, and you’ve long decided you’d wait.

“Then I’d come and find you so that my efforts aren’t wasted.” 

“It’d be a waste of effort anyway if you can’t even make it through the currents. And the sea is quite vast, you know.” 

You don’t know what point you’re trying to prove by arguing during an already fragile moment. Maybe it’s a subconscious countermeasure, a last line of defense against your traitor heart, but this back and forth with him shouldn’t come so easily.

“Then I can only pray that a beautiful mermaid might come and save me,” he murmurs, lightly squeezing your hand. “my beautiful mermaid.”

Your eyes follow as he brings your still-interlocked fingers to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before glancing up from beneath the pieces of his fringe, "Do you trust me?" 

It’s almost difficult to breathe with the way your heart pounds in your chest. Do you trust him enough to take this chance on such a near impossible task? Do you trust him as he calls you his, outside of the realm of pleasure and of his own volition… 

You answer him in the same way he did, when you had asked the same of him not so long ago. Your hand once again reaches up to cup his face, this time bringing him in for a kiss, soft and tender, filled with the whispers of a promise.

His lips curve up just the slightest, the beginning of a sly grin breaking across his face. “I don’t think I got all of that just yet. Care to elaborate your answer?”

And so you kiss him again, the ebb and flow of your lips as smooth as the tides, with your arms draped over his neck, and his hands clasped around your waist, bringing you ever closer. It’s decadent and asphyxiating, you almost don’t care if you were to drown in this fit of passion. 

“I do have feelings for you,” he murmurs, before finally breaking away for air. His chest heaves, but your face is only inches from his and he fights the urge to kiss you senseless again. “Just give me some time, and we can be together for real.”

Alhaitham turns to sift through his belt pouch and once again presents you with a hairpin—delicate and ornate, inlaid with nagadus emeralds. “I couldn’t stand to see it in someone else’s possession.” 

“And why’s that?” You coax, deceitfully coy as you peek up from underneath your lashes, biting back a grin whilst tracing the gem on his chest, one that happens to shine in the same verdant shade of green. It’s a bit silly, but you want to hear him say it again. 

Alhaitham rolls his eyes with a huff of exasperation, although the mirth in his eyes says otherwise. Sometimes you are ridiculously easy to read. 

“Because it’s yours.” A small peck lands on your forehead. “And because the whole of sumeru should know you’re mine,” he finishes with a light kiss to your lips.  

Your head falls to rest against his chest, picking out his heartbeat amongst the sound of the waves. You feel warm despite how the cool ocean air prickles against your wet skin. You’d be happy to let this moment last forever, but ingenuity is a virtue in the nation of wisdom—what is done completes what is thought—and you trust that alhaitham will keep his word, so you guide his fingers, curling them into a fist around the little ornament.

“It'd only get tarnished underwater so... keep it safe for me until you return. Deal?”

Alhaitham catches your lips again, grinning into the kiss. “Deal.”

next

a/n2: i rewrote this SO many times cus i was unsatisfied with it, so i hope you enjoyed :'D it was honestly kind of hard not weaving in anything from the bonus smutfic but also keeping it kinda coherent LOL but if u read that, there was like 1 ref that i thought was fun 'n i hope u caught it (๑>؂•̀๑) ANYWAYS we are almost at the end as the next part will be the last 'n it'll be a little epilogue ! as always, thank u so much for reading + reblogs/feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #alhaitham fluff #genshin angst #alhaitham angst #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader fluff #genshin alhaitham #mermaid au #mermaid!reader #𓇼 — 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓴𝓳𝓪𝓭𝓮'𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓪𝓾

[bluesprng]

( ♱ ) damn skirt.

muse: yeonjun, txt rated: 18+ / mdni requested: yes a/n: enjoy, don't enjoy it - i don't really care ♡ ( fem reader. )

from the moment yeonjun emerged from your bedroom, dressed and ready to go, you'd failed to take your eyes off of him. it wasn't that unusual considering how highly you thought of his visuals but this was different; this was causing aches in places you didn't know could ache that badly. it wasn't that big of a deal, he'd worn skirts around you before but a full outfit, nothing beneath and the way it hugged his frame was scratching a part of your brain you couldn't begin to name.

you found yourself being unable to form too many sentences, just following along to the car and staying quiet up until you were seated at the table. the restaurant was nice, you noted, a smile automatically forming as the rest of the members started to show up. you felt a little bad for intruding on their little celebration but the concern was quickly quelled by soobin and his dimpled smile. the five fell easily into conversation while you were writhing on the inside, thighs pressed together and hands holding onto the edge of your shirt like it was going to ease something. you felt so wrong for the thoughts going through your head, especially with the others there but you couldn't help it.

something about yeonjun had you feeling soaked. the outfit, the attitude, the confidence - God, it was basically coming off of him in waves and you couldn't stand it. when a plan came to mind, your fingers twitched in hesitancy, not knowing if you wanted to possibly be humiliated; it wouldn't be the first time something had happened in front of the others, they just tended to mind their business. reaching a hand across to settle on the raven's thigh, your fingers traced against the material of the skirt, something innocent enough to not get you in too much trouble.

your boyfriend was generally pretty relaxed about your teasing and needy nature considering he was the same way and had the exact same non-existent patience when it came to needs. you'd been pressed to bathroom walls far more times than you'd have liked and you were surprised you'd never gotten some disease. you shook that thought off for the time being.

he continued on with his conversations, not even a hitch in his breath when you finally slid your hand over his crotch, easily feeling him through the material. you were happy with yourself until you felt his hand over yours, gently moving it away. the way your head snapped towards him probably gained a couple member's attention but you ignored it and so did they. the raven offered you a gesture around the room and very subtle headshake, one that made you even more determined. he was really going to try and use the fact you were in public to deter you? the man who ate you out only a few weeks ago in a similar setting? absolutely not.

'someone's frustrated.'

you nearly hissed in beomgyu's direction, knowing that only two of them would be paying enough attention to the room to even remotely catch what had happened.

it took a few minutes but you slipped your hand back onto his thigh, feeling it flex beneath your touch. when soobin cut his conversation to head to the restroom, the raven finally turned his attention to you. 'you aren't going to stop, are you, love?' he questioned, a dangerous cut to his eyes as he looked at you, resting his cheek on his fist.

'it's your fault,' you mumbled, inching your hand closer to where you'd wanted it before.

his eyebrow rose. 'oh? it's my fault? please.. tell me, how is it my fault that you can't keep your hands to yourself?'

you could feel your features flush and you used your free hand to gesture to him almost rapidly, earning a muffled laugh from across the table. you both looked across to Kai who cleared his throat and looked away, clearly biting back any mocking comments he had.

yeonjun just clicked his tongue and straightened, taking your hand once more. 'well, since words are failing you.. why don't you put your mouth to better use until we order and the food comes?' it wasn't really a question, you knew that - the whole table knew that - and rejecting him wouldn't end too well for you. well, at least if you planned to walk or be in public again any time soon.

'you're evil.'

'is that a complaint?'

quickly shaking your head, you looked around the restaurant before maneuvering yourself under the table; thank god for fancy restaurants and their stupidly long tablecloths. you could feel him watching you before he crossed his arms, easily falling into another conversation, this time with Taehyun - the lack of attention almost made you frown. shuffling closer to him, you gently tugged the material up enough to tucked under it, immediately nosing at the inside of his thigh. he was fully aware of your obsession with that certain part of his body, so he spoke up; 'don't get distracted, love.'

you grumbled something under your breath, deciding to listen and bring your hands to hook in the waistband of his briefs, adjusting them just enough to free his length; were you honestly surprised he was already hard or had you forgotten who you were dating?

within the confined space of the material, you did your best to offer several base to lip licks, relishing in the feeling of warm, rigid flesh against your tongue. the downfall of doing things in public came in the form of not being able to hear his voice; his moans and his praises often aiding in your ability to get off pretty easily. without it, you were stuck just squeezing and rubbing your thighs together to briefly satisfy your aching core, focusing on what was in front of you.

wrapping your lips around the tip, you teased the tip of your tongue against the slit, something that earned the slightest flinch of his hips. you couldn't help but be delighted at getting some type of reaction, slowly starting to take in more and bob your head, tongue pressed flat to the underside; considering the sheer enjoyment you got out of blowing him, you had to silence your own sounds.

'you couldn't wait until you were home to celebrate?' it was soobin's voice as he returned to the table, the words followed by a weak chuckle.

'she was the one being impatient.. and i wasn't going to spend dinner with her little attempts,' yeonjun mused, 'besides, it isn't the first time and don't pretend like it bothers you. you've seen enough to not even flinch over it.'

the heat from before returned to your features and the silence from soobin's end let you know that both of you were recalling the drunk new year's eve party. you did your best to push the images away and kept going, head moving slowly and taking your time, something that was a hit or miss with the raven. he was getting dangerously close to your throat when a hand landed on the back of your head, pressing you down. tears formed and you did your best not to gag, thanking yourself for the days you practiced when he wasn't home.

feeling the way he prodded at your throat, you just let out a small groan and gripped onto his thigh, trying to get your breathing under control after the brief moment of panic.

'stay.'

the command made you whimper but you did as you were told, jaw going slack as you settled, knowing you'd probably be there for a while. was he really going to make you stay like that until the food came? it wouldn't be the first time he left you to cock warm like that but it was killing you. it didn't take long but you closed your eyes, occasionally humming as you relaxed into your position, drool pooling at his base; you would definitely get a playful scolding over making a mess.

thirty minutes.

it took thirty minutes for the food to come and by the time yeonjun was patting your head, cooing for you to come up, you'd dozed off into some weird stage between being awake and being asleep. slowly pulling away and letting his now mostly soft length slip from your mouth, the sound you made cleaning up the saliva could only be considered vulgar. climbing up from under the table, you wiped your mouth and cleared your throat, blinking your eyes to get them adjusted to the low lights of the room.

yeonjun smiled softly, that smile he always offered when he took care of you after something, and reached to fix your hair. 'pretty baby,' he mumbled, 'eat up, love.'

you always softened at the treatment and nodded, turning your attention to the food, content that he always knew what to get you. you never let him know you knew about the notes in his phone, the one listing your favorite foods from just about every cafe, restaurant and convenience store in the city.

as always, no one commented on what took place, just going about dinner as they would any other day. you were kind of thankful for it despite being a little curious what was going through everyone's minds. you'd both given ample opportunities for everyone to speak but they all seemed on the same page; 'if we have a problem, we'll let you know. otherwise, we don't care.'

dinner went by nicely, you finally joining in on the ever changing conversations and laughing along to the absolutely terrible jokes that everyone made; none of you were funny outside of yourselves, you were sure. with yeonjun returning to your place for the night, you waved goodbye once everyone had gotten full and wanted nothing more than to sleep, trotting off to your car with your boyfriend in tow.

'so, i'm evil now?' he questioned, stopping you by the car and opening the backseat door; you were confused about the gesture.

'i was just teasing,' you pouted and got in, very thankful you listened to their managers advice on getting your windows tinted. it wasn't your first time doing something in a car but sometimes, the anxiety of getting caught - especially for him - came out of nowhere and had a chokehold on you. you couldn't even begin to fathom the consequences of getting caught doing something so stupid. your thoughts dispersed when he joined you, patting his thighs.

you wanted to complain that the space was going to be cramped but he wasn't having it, helping you to settle over his lap, your back pressed snug to his chest. 'i've never seen you so impatient, since the day we met,' he began, chin resting on your shoulder as his hand made it's way down, popping the couple buttons of your nice, high waisted pants and slipping into the confines. 'i mean, i know your needy but.. acting like that in front of the others? you used to get shy about that.'

squirming slightly as his fingers made their way past your underwear, not even bothering to tease, you weren't exactly sure how to respond. 'y-your best friend has practically licked my organs, jun..' you mumbled, jerking when the pad of his middle finger slipped between your folds, down to feel the wetness that was basically oozing from your core.

he hummed in response, moving his hand up and using your own slick to make them glide against your clit easier, slow circles that made you want to whine and squirm against him; he wasn't going to allow that, not with the tight around that hold you in place. 'and the others? were you hoping they would want to do the same thing?'

you were used to the teasing, hell, the others were also used to it at this point. you'd all, at one point or another, done /something/ with each other. 'i just thought you looked extra good today,' you reasoned, moaning when he began to pick up his pace a little, focusing solely on the bundle of nerves that had you nearly writhing. 'promise, only thought of you tonight.. god, why'd you have to wear this stupid outfit?'

when his arm left your waist, you were hoping it was to give you the chance to move but you were terribly wrong. soon enough, both of his hands were working on you, two fingers on one hand dug deep into your walls while the other focused on your clit. 'all of this over a simple outfit?' he teased, head tilting to nose at the side of your neck, groaning at the way you moved against his already hard length. 'maybe i should reward you for all the flattery.. come on, then,' he began, pulling back now sticky, coated fingers and holding them up, 'clean me up and then you can ride me. how's that? or, would you prefer to be fucked?'

the embarrassment for getting so worked up over an outfit was really hitting hard with how he said it, walls clenching as you bit back the comment you wanted to make. you wanted to say it wasn't funny and defend yourself but you weren't given the chance, finding it hard to register the words at the attention to your sopping cunt was lost. you began to wonder if you'd done something wrong before the words rang in your ears; you had a thing for when he spoke in a vulgar manner and it wasn't a well kept secret. instead of answering verbally, you fumbled a little in the small space and dropped onto the backseat; you were sure it was a very ungraceful show you were putting on but you knew he didn't mind, not when he'd hit his head on the roof several times.

fighting to get your pants and underwear fully off, you settled with one knee off the seat and the other bent, holding you up from the floor so you could put yourself on display. with your cheek and chest against the seat, ass in the air, it wasn't comfortable at all but you were getting desperate, the shine on your inner thighs making it obvious. your hands just kind of settled wherever they could, briefly wondering to yourself why you seemed to own the smallest car in existence.

yeonjun had stayed silent, cooing over your fumbling and biting on his lip when you finally put yourself on display for him, presenting like you were in some weird abo fic; he wasn't complaining. his cock throbbed upon seeing you like this, wasting no time in ( somehow ) managing to get up, skirt and briefs pushed down to his thighs. 'i'm getting you a bigger car for christmas,' he muttered, clearly amused and annoyed with how you were both struggling but it was your own fault, neither of you wanting to wait until you got home. 'fuck, look at you.. so pretty, so eager,' he commented, hand offering his cock a few strokes before he was lining up with you, dragging his tip through your slick.

as he began pushing in, you used the seat to your advantage and turned your head, muffling your moans into the fabric. it was always a delicious feeling, the way he stretched and filled you, something you'd never get tired of. upon bottoming out, he only waited a handful of seconds before starting to move, quickly building up to a fast pace, gripping onto your hips. when yeonjun was needy, he wasn't gentle or slow by any means unless you asked. with the way you were clenching around him and gripping at the seat, you had no complaints.

neither of you were very wordy when it came down to it, not when it was classified as a quicky; all the dirty talk, sweet comments and loud cries were reserved for the bedroom.

yeonjun was chasing his release, one of his hands slipping around to give your clit attention, always having a weird obsession with cumming at the same time; you'd asked him about it at some point but the answer never seemed to stick. now wasn't the time for questioning his weird quirks, though, not when a particularly hard thrust had your whole body jerking and a cry to spill from you. 'fuck!' you let out without a thought, earning a low chuckle from between hard breathing a low groans.

'trying to get us caught now?' he managed to get out, clearly amused with your sudden outburst.

's-shut up!' you hissed out, feeling that familiar burning sensation that made you want to drool, each thrust finding you closer and closer to coming undone. he was on the same page, thrusts becoming a little erratic the closer he got, showing no mercy on your velvet walls.

'c-cumming,' was his only warning, something you were used to and god, you saw white the moment warmth flooded your walls, your own release washing over you. you were incoherent for a good two or three minutes, barely even registering the way he pulled out slowly and started rubbing over your lower back, helping the way your frame crumpled into the seat.

'you okay, beautiful?' he mumbled, carefully caressing your lower back, making sure you were okay and in a good state of mind; yeonjun made a habit to never leave your side unless you gave him the okay. it took you a couple seconds to nod, head turning to offer him a tiny smile.

'm alright, feel good,' you answered.

smiling, his hand moved up to touch your cheek, patting it gently. 'should've waited til we got home, your cheek looks a little swollen,' he muttered, thumb brushing along the apple of your cheek, careful of the reddened skin. 'you okay if i get us home?'

shifting around, you brought a hand up to feel the warm skin, eyebrows pulling together. 'I'll take a look when we get home,' you nodded a little before smiling, nuzzling into the warmth of his hand. 'yes, please.'

#txt #txt x reader #txt reactions #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt things #tomorrow x together #txt smut #yeonjun #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #mdni #minors stay away #minors dont read #minors go away #minors do not interact

[hederasgarden]

All The Right Moves

Summary: Your day takes a turn for the better when you meet not one but two cute Navy Pilots at the hospital. Pairing: Natasha “Phoenix” Trace x F!Reader x Robert “Bob” Floyd  Word Count: 1.8K Ratings: Gen. AU, fluff, awkwardly charming Bob, a very direct Phoenix and some flirting. Brief mention of some superficial injuries Phoenix and Bob have. A/N: In this AU Bob and Phoenix have known each other since they went to Top Gun together and have had a casual thing going on whenever they see one another. This story is based on an anon ask I received. It takes place in the same universe as Follow the Leader but occurs first.  Reblogs and comments feed the muse. 

Walter trots happily alongside you in the hallway of the hospital. He’s wearing his bright red therapy dog vest and his nose twitches as he takes in all the exciting scents. The hospital staff you pass stop to pet him and share a few words with you. You’re both well known around here, spending long hours comforting patients and their families in the summertime after school’s out and you aren’t bogged down with teaching. 

Today you’re visiting one of the quieter floors. Several of the rooms you pass are empty. You find Macy at the nurses' station. She grins when she sees you, bending down to ruffle Walter’s golden fur and baby talk to him about what a good boy he is. Walter's tail smacks noisily against her desk and he offers her a lick in greeting. 

“Where should we start today?” You ask. 

“We have a few navy pilots in house who were involved in a crash,” she tells you, standing up and brushing dog hair from her blue scrubs. “Nothing major but they seem like they could use a pick me up. I’d start with 305. The guy in there is an absolute sweetheart.”

“We are on it!” You promise, gently tugging on the leash to get him to follow you.

You knock on 305, hearing a muffled invitation to come in. The man on the bed is about your age and looks a little worse for wear with a cut on his forehead and a split lip. He’s wearing the standard hospital gown that does no one any favors, yet he somehow manages to look adorably handsome. You introduce yourself and Walter and ask if he'd like company. 

"Me?" He questions, glancing behind him to the empty bed. 

"Unless you have a friend hiding in the bathroom," you joke, charmed when the tips of his ears turn red.

“No ma’am. It’s just me.” He pauses, looking at Walter. “I do love dogs.”

“Well Walter loves people, you’re going to make a great pair,” you tell him warmly, walking around the bed to take a seat on the chair next to him. It's only now that you're closer that you realize his glasses are cracked.

You tap the bed and Walter rests his two front paws next to the man’s hip, waiting to be petted. 

“I’m Robert,” he says. “But uh, everyone calls me Bob.”

You watch him stroke Walter’s head gently, a little half-smile on his face as he continues to pet your dog. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Bob."

Walter barks, his own way of introducing himself, and you both laugh as he gets more insistent, nuzzling and licking Bob’s face for attention. Behind you, the heart monitor beeps steadily, its intensity lower than when you first came in.

“How are you feeling?” You ask Bob. “Heard you were in a crash.”

“Pretty good considering,” he tells you, meeting your eyes briefly before looking back at Walter. 

You can feel him watching you again a moment later but keep your attention focused on your dog, sensing Bob might be a little shy. The few pilots you met before were borderline assholes who loved to hear themselves talk. Bob seems incredibly sweet and down to earth. 

“Being a pilot for the Navy must be pretty exciting,” you continue. 

“Oh, well I’m just a Wizzo, ma’am.” When you look blankly at him he clears his throat and ducks his head. “Sorry, it stands for weapon systems officer. My partner Phoenix does all the fancy flying.” 

“That’s still very impressive,” you tell him.

“Oh, you uh, must impress easy then,” he jokes, glancing up at you. 

There's a nervous little line in his brow that doesn't disappear until you laugh. He gives you a real smile then and it lights up his whole face, highlighting just how handsome he actually is. His dark blue eyes meet yours before glancing away only to return again a moment later. 

Was he flirting with you? 

Your chest warms unexpectedly at the thought, but a current of nervous energy also rips through your body. You shift in the hospital chair, sitting up a little straighter and brushing off a clump of dog hair clinging to your light blue shirt. Suddenly you wish you’d put a little more effort into your appearance today. 

“I’ll have you know I have high standards,” you say, tilting your head to look at him with a grin. “Isn’t that right, Walter?”

Your dog barks and wags his tail happily while you scratch his rump. Whatever Bob’s about to say gets interrupted by his phone dinging with a message notification. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, picking it up. Whoever the text is from makes him smile softly. He types a quick reply, looking at you briefly before setting it face down on the table. “Walter seems like he might be biased,” Bob notes, amused.

“That's a heavy accusation. Impugning poor Walter’s credibility, Bob,” you tease, touching his arm briefly.  

“I get it,” he whispers to Walter, scratching his chin and making your dog groan happily. “I’d probably be biased too.”

A little thrill zips along your spine when Bob looks up at you and holds your gaze. This time it’s you who looks away, tapping your fingers against your thigh. You chew the inside of your cheek, trying to work up the courage to ask if he wants to join you for coffee after he gets discharged. There weren't technically any rules about asking a patient out, you were only a volunteer after all, but you’d avoided doing it. 

“Would you maybe want to,” you start just when the door to Bob’s room opens. 

The woman that enters is beautiful with striking features and silky-looking black hair swept back in a utilitarian bun. She’s wearing a torn flight suit and there’s a smudge of something black along her cheekbone. A bandage disappears below the neckline of her suit. 

“Hey Phoenix,” Bob greets, smiling. 

“Hey,” she returns, her face softening as she takes in the man on the bed. She touches his shoulder, her thumb sweeping up the side of his throat and down again. His Adam's apple bobs in response. They share meaningful eye contact that feels intimate enough to make you stare down at your hands until it passes. 

Had you read the situation wrong? Oh god, maybe he hadn’t been flirting before and was just being nice. He did refer to Phoenix as his partner earlier. You assumed he meant it in a buddy type way but there is clearly something between them. 

“Who’s your friend, Bob?” Phoenix asks, looking at you. 

She makes an unnerving amount of eye contact with you before her dark brown eyes drag down your body and flick back to your face again in a quick assessment. Awkwardly you stand and hold out a hand, introducing yourself and Walter. Her slim fingers are cool and calloused against yours. Walter is oblivious to the tension in the room, jumping off the bed to greet Phoenix. To your relief the other woman squats down and scratches Walter in his favorite spot behind his ears. 

“Aren’t you handsome, buddy,” she whispers before looking up at you, head cocked to the side. “What do I need to do to get a visit from you?”

Her tone almost sounds flirty, but you know it couldn’t possibly be. She’s probably pissed you were flirting with her boyfriend and now she was trying to make a point that you were spending too much time with Bob. That you should be visiting other patients. You glance at him, surprised to find him smiling at you. Phoenix pats Walter on the head one more time and stands. 

She shares a look with her partner who nods. In response the corner of her lips curve upward and she turns to face you. “Would you like to go out with us?” She asks.

"Out with you,” you repeat, confused. Was this some weird power move to make sure you knew Bob was hers? “Like to dinner… or a cabin in the woods to kill me because I promise, I didn't realize he was your boyfriend." You hurry to tell her. “I was just being friendly. That’s what Walter and I do here at the hospital.”

To your surprise both Bob and Phoenix laugh. 

"Oh, I see I'm going to have two of you," Phoenix says and you stare at her confused.

"Two of us?"

"Bob babbles when he's nervous too," Phoenix tells you, rounding the bed to approach you. Her gait is steady and slow, the look on her face causing a flurry of butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “We want to take you out on a date if you’re interested. No hard feelings if you’re not. Or if you just want to see Bob, that's okay too,” she says casually. 

“But… you’re together?” You ask, motioning between them. 

“Sort of,” says Bob at the same time Phoenix replies, “Define together.” 

They look at each other and laugh. It’s an infectious sound. Both of them are attractive and it’s been a painfully long time since you’ve been out with someone or done anything fun. A date wouldn’t be so bad. At worst it would lead to nothing, then again, you could also have a fun night together. Maybe it was time to try something new.

“Okay,” you tell them both. “I’d like to go out. With both of you.” You clarify. 

“Give me your phone,” Phoenix instructs, holding her hand out. She brings up your contact list and swiftly enters what you assume is her and Bob’s numbers, sending a text to both their numbers. Their phones chime in unison and she hands yours back. “There, now we’re all set.”

She’s so different from him, direct but not pushy, though-, that throws you off a little. 

“Well, um, I look forward to hearing from you both,” you say, picking up Walter’s leash and almost missing the amused look Bob and Phoenix share. You feel a little awkward now but there’s a pleasant, excited buzz of energy flowing beneath your skin. “I should be going though, we have more patients to see.”

You get halfway to the door before a thought occurs to you and you turn around to look at Phoenix. "Hey… how did you know I'm um you know…" you trail off, gesturing to yourself. 

“I have a radar for these things, plus Bob’s like catnip to bisexual women,” she says with a wink. “We’ll see you soon,” she promises. Behind her Bob waves.

You’re making your way down the hall when your phone pings. It’s a group message from Phoenix with a suggested time and date to meet up at a place called the Hard Deck. The next message is from Bob, letting you know their patio is dog friendly. You bend down and scratch Walter’s head.

“Looks like we got a date buddy,” you tell him with a grin.

✥

My inbox is open for your thoughts and feedback as well as drabble requests for this little verse I am creating.

#robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #natasha trace x reader x robert floyd #natasha phoenix trace x you #Natasha Phoenix Trace x reader x Robert Bob Floyd #natasha trace x reader #natasha phoenix trace #natasha trace x female reader #bob x female reader #bob x reader #bob x you #phoenix x reader #phoenix x you

[fragileizywriting]

okay, so.

marinette has a problem.

the problem is luka's hands.

no, no, that's not fair. actually, the problem is luka's entire arms— the hands are included, of course, but the arms thing. with his chest. and his shoulders. and his torso. okay, the top half of him. not really much of his legs, but those are... just as much of a problem. okay, yeah, she's having a problem. she's having a problem with him.

most specifically the arms, though.

she absolutely, positively, cannot stand the way he grips the steering wheel whenever he drives, because his hands are massive, and the steering wheel of his beatup mitsubishi is nothing but a tea-cup saucer, and she really, really likes them.

hello.

hi.

especially when he grips the wheel and his knuckles go white and it reminds her very, very much of something else.

“please,” she begs.

“no,” he responds, and he drums along the steering wheel in a delightful little pattern that she can't stop watching. tap tap tap. tap, tap, tap. tap... tap... tap... “we’re not stopping for coffee. put away the puppy eyes, kitty.” then, he adds, before she can even respond: “sorry, ‘coffee’.”

“i heard those quotation marks,” she grumbles, narrowing her eyes at him, though he doesn't meet her gaze to see it. he knows it's there. it's a sixth sense. just like he knew she was batting her eyes at him in a way he can't refuse. “are you just upset that i like good coffee?”

“good coffee," he scoffs, doing something with his palms against the wheel that has her brain starting to whirr. how is it that his hands are just so... big? "sorry, no, you mean american coffee. coffee that's just sugar and syrup.”

“and they’re right,” she argues. “please? as a thank you for coming with you to carrefour?”

“a thank you?” he laughs out loud, merging into a roundabout. hands. hands. hands, hands, hands. strong forearms. enticing biceps. she's a dog sitting outside a butchershop, waiting for someone to take pity and toss her a bone. he could crush her and she'd whimper out a thank you. “you invited yourself!”

she bites her lip. his hand is on the shiftknob so he can change gears. she's about to swoon. “i... uh—" what was she saying? "i don’t trust your yogurt choices.”

“greek yogurt is good.”

“it’s disgusting,” she continues, pointing at an exit that she wants him to take, because coffee is that way. he does. she doesn't have to give him directions, because he knows where they're going, because it's her favourite new coffeehouse. “anything that's not strawberry flavoured yogurt is a problem. what's with the adventurous streak with the vanilla flavour? coconut? are you out of your mind?”

“sometimes i wonder why your tastebuds are still so childish,” he teases. left hand in his lap for a moment. holy jesus. “sugary, strawberry—”

“let a woman live a little! i deserve treats! cute treats! big treats! cute, big treats!” she blinks at the silence, listening him tap, tap, tapping away. “hold on, hold it, i didn't invite myself, i live with you.”

“you couch surf.”

“you ass,” she giggles. “i do not. and since when do you consider your own bed a couch? pretty sure you were adamant about it being a futon when you first got it.”

he turns the ignition off before she even realizes it. here they are, in the parking lot, and she has yet to look away from that tender touch he has with his wheel.

"before we go in, look up at me for a second?"

"huh?"

he is way, way too close to her personal space when he leans over. blue eyes spark in the sunlight coming in and reflecting from the hood of the truck. "look up, kitty."

"yeah?"

god, he's gorgeous. she can't stop biting her lip, wiggling her tongue against her gums to make her canines stop humming.

"we can get your coffee. if"—a finger wag follows, touching her on the tip of her nose—"you stop looking at me like i'm a top sirloin."

she blinks passively. "what?"

"i know you well enough to know you get this look in your eye when you're hungry," he muses, thumb on her mouth. he presses in. lightly. just enough to squish her bottom lip. he's leaning over her in a way that feels like he's about to kiss her, maybe shut himself up for a little while, but he doesn't want to bridge the gap just yet. "you also do it when you're horny. i know you're not hungry because you tossed all of my offers to get beignets out the window, but you keep squirming in your seat everytime i move. you're salivating."

"i— i just want coffee," she wheezes.

"yeah? you sure?"

"y-yeah."

"so if i reach behind my seat to grab your purse, you're not going to hiss just because it makes my arms look nice?"

"i think you're overestimating how much i find you attractive."

"i am very much not," he laughs. "you're forgetting i've known you since whatever. let's get your drink and go home, you're not going to get any easier to keep still when you have sugar in you— remember that we need to pack away the groceries into the fridge before you jump me."

#speakizys #4am ginseng tea #pro lukanette #pro lukamari #endgame lukanette #lukanette

[pullakori]

Cherik week 2023

Day 4. Protective Erik

It’s been a year since Charles followed Erik to Genosha and started living in there. The change wasn’t an easy one, but slowly the island started to feel like a home and its residents like a family. Old sorrow and guilt still followed him, but they were not as consuming as they had been right after… Well, a year ago.

Charles sipped his tea, enjoying the morning sun on his face. It seemed like it was going to be another beautiful day in the paradise, no need to ruin the otherwise beautiful day with such gloomy thoughts.

“What would you like to do today?” Erik asked him from the other side of the table. Most days he would already be working on some project on the island, but today he had decided to take a day off and that meant that they could spend the whole day together.

“We could visit the beach, return through the market and make dinner together.” Charles mused, turning to look at Erik, who was smiling at him.

“How domestic.” He teased, but continued before Charles had an opportunity to quip anything back. “Chess after dinner?”

“Naturally.” Charles replied.

Domestic. That was possibly the best way to describe their situation. They lived together and there was certainly something more between them, but neither of them had had the courage to approach it, too cautious of what it could do to the serenity they had managed to find.

As it turned out, the faith of their found peace was not in their hands at all.

It started with a knock on the door and a concerned mind on the other side of it.

“Magneto! Magneto there is a helicopter flying towards the island!” The voice was clear, as it carried through the open window and after a quick shared glance with Charles, Erik stood up and hurried to open the door. On the other side was distressed looking Corina, who was clearly trying to catch her breath.

“Where?” Erik asked, straight to the point while Charles wheeled himself to the door too.

“From the North-West.” Corina panted and pointed towards the right direction. “I saw them while I was practising my flying. I don’t think it will take long for them to reach us.”

“Were you able to identify it?”

“Nothing specific, but it looked military.”

“We’ll be ready. Find Panic so he can sound the alarm. There might be only one, but I rather not take any risks.” Erik ordered and with a nod, Corina took few running steps and jumped, flapping her seagull like wings and flew away.

“Charles, are you able to reach their minds?” Erik turned to Charles.

“I should be, if they are not that far away.” Charles said and closed his eyes, so he could focus his powers, sending tendrils of it out to scan the ocean area. He tried to find sparks of any kind of minds, but he found strange voids instead. They were familiar, reminding him of Erik’s old helmet. They were closing in on the island fast. “They are blocking me somehow.” Charles said aloud, and the grim look on Erik’s face mirrored his own thoughts. This wasn’t good.

The sound of Panic’s warning scream echoed through the air, telling everyone on the island to be prepared and soon after, the sound of helicopter propellers grew louder and louder.

“You should stay inside, Charles.” Erik told him as he stepped out himself, turning to look from the sky to Charles. But the telepath was having none of that.

“I’ll just stay near you.” He said, following Erik outside and meeting his eyes, making it clear, that he would not be hiding away.

Not that he would have time for that, as the helicopter appeared over them, landing on the clearing in front of Erik’s home. Other mutants had gathered around too, waiting for what was going to happen.

‘Do you think they know where you live, or was this just a coincidence?’

‘Oh, I’m sure they know.’ The distaste in Erik’s thoughts was clear. From the helicopter, soldiers hurried down a ramp, helmets on their heads and guns in hands. ‘Plastic.’ Erik’s mind stated.

‘That might become a problem.’ This whole thing seemed to become more concerning every second.

‘Luckily the copter isn’t.’ Charles did his best to suppress his smirk, but didn’t quite manage.

The tension in the air grew as the last person came out of the copter, better dressed, clearly in charge. Erik took a step forward and Charles followed him, staying by his friend’s side.

“Why have you come here?” Erik asked the man with an authoritative tone, speaking loudly so his voice carried through the whole clearing.

“We are not here because of you Magneto. No need to stir any trouble.” The man answered, stopping in front of his men.

“You are the ones who barged to my home with guns.” Erik stated, not impressed by the man’s attempt to be pleasant. “So I ask again, why are you here?” The man shook his head, before his gaze turned to Charles.

“Mr. Charles Xavier.” It wasn’t a question, he knew exactly who Charles was.

“Yes?” The helmet made it impossible for the telepath to get a reading from the man, but even though his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, his attention made Charles feel unnerved. Like he was a fly trapped in the spider’s web, about to be killed. The man’s next words only made the feeling stronger.

“You have been found guilty for treason and we are here to take you back to the Stares.”

Charles was certain that the time froze for a few minutes, no one moved, no one said anything, even the noises of the island nature seemed to fade away.

“Excuse me?” Charles was proud how steady his voice came out, even though he felt shaken to his core. Treason? What the hell were they talking about? But the man wasn’t about to explain himself.

“This doesn’t need to be difficult. Just come with us, and there will be no reason for use to use any force.” He gave a small hand signal, and the soldiers raised their weapons. Not only at Charles and Erik, but the other mutants as well. Charles could see the bloodshed that would follow, if he didn’t do as the man wanted. And too much blood had already been spilled because of him.

He was about to move forward, but Erik beat him to it, stepping in front of him.

“You are not taking him anywhere.” Erik stood there arms crossed, unmoving and shielding Charles from the soldiers.

‘Erik…’ Charles felt frozen, he wanted to move, to tell Erik to stand down, but he couldn’t.

“What a shame.” The man said, his voice barely reaching Charles’ ears.

It was over in a matter of seconds. There was the sound of gunfire, shouting, groaning of metal and chaos of fighting, before suddenly, it was quiet again. The man and his soldiers were lying on the ground, blood staining the ground. Few mutants had been hurt too, three dead. Because of him.

“They’ll be back.” Charles managed to find his voice all the while his mind was running wild. He had to get away from Genosha, away from anyone who could be hurt because of this.

“And we will be ready.” Erik’s words snapped Charles back from his thoughts. Erik was still standing in front of him and was examining Charles for any injuries. There were none, at least Charles didn’t think so. Erik on the other hand had gotten a shallow wound to his cheek, but otherwise seemed to have escaped without further injury. Against all the odds. The thought chilled Charles from the inside. Erik could have died.

“I can’t ask you to risk your life for me.” Charles told Erik, taking a hold of his arm. The last thing he wanted was to put the lives of the Genoshans in danger, least of all Erik’s.

Erik held his gaze, and for a moment it felt like he was the telepath instead of Charles, like he could see through all Charles’ masks right in to his heart. But maybe that had been the case through all their relationship. Erik moved down so they were looking eye to eye, before he took hold of Charles’ shoulders, his left hand resting where shoulder met the neck, stroking the spot there with his thumb.

“You don’t have to ask.”

#cherikweek2023 #cherik #finally managed to write something #my brain was fighting me the whole time but i managed #my writing

[exec-proton]

// Bonk story time

Under the cut since it's long. Proton dissociates. Archer is mad because he has been stabbed. Petrel is tired. Really tired.

Also rather than come up with an on-the-spot name for fake regions based on Germany and Russia I just. Yeah you get it.

Petrel leaned back in his chair; his feet propped casually atop his desk. The Infirm, for once, was having a slower day. Petrel would never complain about slow days. It meant that less grunts were out finding new ways to get themselves killed. It meant that everything was running smoothly.

Well, as smoothly as it could run.

Petrel spun a pen around his fingers. His underlings could handle anything that came in, as long as it wasn’t too severe, or someone important enough to require his own attention. He grinned. Maybe he could slip out, find himself something better to do.

He whistled to himself as he stood, a simple tune he could only half recall. He grabbed his uniform jacket from where it hung at the door, swung it around his shoulders, and strolled into the Infirm’s lobby.

Incredibly, since there was no such thing as a slow day in Team Rocket, Archer stomped in at the same time. Petrel was about to complain, loudly, and make Archer find someone else to bother when he noticed what he had. Archer was dragging Proton behind him. The smaller man was limp, held up by the collar of his jacket. Petrel quirked up an eyebrow.

“Do I want to know what happened?” He asked. Archer made several exasperated noises, gesturing to his shoulder. A pretty red flower was blooming, a stark difference to the perfect white of Archer’s uniform. It matched the R emblazoned on Petrel’s own chest, he mused. “Don’t you usually have a pocket there?”

Archer had a look that could kill, and it was currently directed squarely in Petrel’s direction. “Is that what you’re going to take away from this?” Petrel shrugged.

“You probably deserved it. Go sit down, I’ll grab some gauze,” he hummed, turning back into his office. “Why’s Pro layin’ there like that?”

Archer scoffed, dragging Proton after him as he followed Petrel. “He probably scared himself. Serves him right, for- For throwing a knife into my shoulder!”

Petrel looked over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow again. “And what did you do to make him do that?” Archer tensed, wincing as he jostled his wound.

“Why you think I purposefully aggravated him, I have no idea,” he decided, sitting himself delicately onto one of the available chairs. Proton was splayed on the floor, propped up against Archer’s leg and shaking slightly. Archer still hadn’t let go of him.

Petrel sighed, standing up and brushing his knees off. Gauze could wait. Archer’d been through plenty worse, and he’d probably just come out of it complaining that his new uniform had been ruined, anyways. “I would argue that you have a track record, sweet-cheeks.”

Archer bristled (Rather, he attempted to) at the nickname. “Do not call me that.”

Petrel grinned and settled back into his chair. “You know I’ll just keep coming up with worse ones. Anyways, since that isn’t what I asked,” he continued, “what did you do?”

Proton was finally released, and he instantly curled into himself, tucking his knees up against his chest and staring wildly around the room. He was still leaning against the other man. Archer glanced down, frowning, before looking back up. “He volunteered to help train Kamu.”

Tapping his leg with his fingers, Petrel tilted his head. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s all of it. But sure, I believe ya. Why is he so freaked out?”

That was the right question to ask. Archer scowled as he thought, his hand drifting absentmindedly to the top of Proton’s head. Sometime in the (Presumed) scuffle, he’d lost his hat, and Archer carded his fingers through the teal hair. Proton flinched at first, but began to relax (Slightly, ever so slightly) into the touch. They made a pretty sight, even if the one was in some dissociated state of shock.

“I was yelling. He doesn’t understand German, does he?” Petrel shook his head.

“Not that I know. He’s got some Russian, though,” he chirped, leaning forward to prop his chin on the palm of his hand.

Archer sighed. “I did make some.. vaguely threatening comments. I suppose.”

Petrel fought the urge to laugh. Archer never changed. Always the rich boy who could never admit that he’d done something wrong. “That would do it, probably. Like I said, you’ve got a track record.” The other man scoffed.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flicked, Proton jerked out his stupor. He smacked Archer’s hand away from his head and scrambled to his feet, across the room in an instant.

“I aint goin’ to the fuckin’ basement! Asshole!” He spat. His eyes were wide, either with terror or rage. Probably both.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Petrel soothed from his chair. “You’re not going anywhere.” He shot a pointed look at Archer, for good measure. Archer glared back at him.

“Sure as fuck I’m not. Where.. Why are we in the Infirm?” Proton asked, caution dripping from his voice. His hand reached to his waist, a reflex, to pull out a knife that wasn’t there. Archer must’ve taken it, Petrel realized. He’d have to make him return it later.

“Because you threw a knife into my shoulder,” Archer answered. “Which you still haven’t done anything about,” he turned on Petrel, who simply rose his arms up in defense.

“Sorry, sorry. Got distracted. ‘Ton, be a dear and get me some gauze?” Petrel purred after Proton, readjusting himself to better abuse the rather obvious attraction Proton had towards him. The teal-haired man glared, but went to search through a cabinet. Archer scoffed.

“I aint your fuckin’ maid,” Proton grumbled as he threw a roll of material at Petrel’s head. Petrel grinned brightly. “And you aren’t takin’ me to the fuckin’ basement.”

Archer rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not. Why you would think that, I’ve no idea,” He answered as he began to pull his shirt over his head, gritting his teeth against the pain. Petrel hummed his approval.

Proton, meanwhile, was staring at Archer like he’d grown another head (A terrifying thought. Twice the complaining, twice the orders). “You said it yourself; I threw a knife into your shoulder!”

Petrel busied himself with inspecting the wound while the two bickered. It wasn’t nearly as bad as Archer made it out to be. Proton had missed anything important. The short knife had embedded itself squarely into the meat of his shoulder, just below the collar bone. The man certainly had good aim.

When everything was properly stitched shut and bandaged, Petrel resigned himself to tuning back into the conversation. Proton was at least sitting next to Archer now. Granted, he looked pissed, but that was kind of just his default state. Petrel patted Archer’s shoulder as he stood, ignoring the short cry of pain from the blue-haired man. “So,” he started, “are you two ready to kiss and make up, or do I need to play marriage counsellor some more?”

Proton sputtered, caught off guard.

#OOC post #short story

[abloginnameonly]

Fun

@oc-tober2023

This was becoming a routine. 

Ubek would normally appreciate the predictability if he could count on her for anything else, stupid girl. All he’d asked her to do was drop a package at a house in the south district: two blocks down and one east from the town square, directly across from the large house with the green door, preferably without being noticed. And if she could manage that, then all she was expected to do after was wait in the designated spot back in the square. 

So why, several hours later, did he find a swarm of children where there was only supposed to be one. 

Braze had changed her outfit since that morning - she’d shown him before how she sewed two different patterns together so her top was reversible like his own coat, and how the sleeves could be pinned to different lengths - and her hair was down in short springy curls from the scarf she’d had them tied in, so she was at least doing the minimum. But the noise. At least a half dozen little bodies shouted and shrieked at a pitch that already made Ubek’s head pulse. 

Maybe the girl really is as deaf as she pretends to be when I’m talking to her, he mused sourly. 

Adding to the cacophony, she as rolling a small clay jar filled with seeds or pebbles or some other bits for a continuous shifting rattle while her scarf twirled and flitted about until Ubek was finally passing close enough to hear. 

“With their hero now far away, the Thunder Queen grew bolder. She shouted to the people below loud enough for their armor to rattle, ‘Why do you all remain here like lambs in a butcher’s pen! This is your final warning: Leave now!’ CRASH!” She whirled the yellow scarf in a great circle over her head and flicked it out - snap - in front of their faces. The children started, then erupted into commotion. 

“She’ll never win,” a chubby young boy declared. “The winds were already turning on her! They’ll bring the hero back!”

“She’s trying to get them to run because she’s afraid!” from another with matted hair. 

“And the lake’s too sick with blood to give the Queen her water back! She’s weak! The hero will kill her dead, just you watch!”

…Sure. 

Before Braze picked their attention back up, Ubek whistled a soft pattern. She caught it after his second call of it and made a quick scan of the crowd. Ubek was half turned away buying a pear. He didn’t particularly like them, but it was as good a prop as any. Transaction done and trusting Braze to follow, he turned and walked down a street. Behind him, Braze was making a reluctant goodbye.

“But we do need a hero to finish the story, right?” 

“Yes! Yes!”

Hurry up. 

“Then I charge you, my renegade little raindrops, to find one. Find our hero, wherever they may be!”

There were varying levels of assent and a polite effort of applause from some of the stand owners who’d been subjected to the noise nearby and the mass finally broke apart to allow Braze down an adjacent street. Ubek kept a leisurely pace until she met him at a corner and they continued on in the same direction. 

“You were supposed to be at the bench,” he said after a block. 

“Bench was taken.”

“Was all your sense taken too?” She rolled her eyes, but Ubek pulled her chin back to him. She was getting tall enough to actually meet his eyes. “I’m serious, you’re making a real habit of pulling out spectacles like this.”

“There were, like, two other entertainers there, relax. One was taking a break to fuck the fake fortune teller and another singing by the fountain.”

He sighed. 

“That’s fine now, but what about-”

“It’s been fine the other times too,” she insisted. “I’m not as stupid as you expect me to be.”

“You have no idea how stupid I expect you to be.” Braze grinned like it was a joke. “Alright then, how much money did you get then?”

She had the audacity to laugh at that. 

“Are you kidding? Most of those kids were barely ten, and not particularly wealthy ones at that.” Ubek had to take several long moments to process what the girl was saying. She dug around her pockets and pulled out three copper pieces. “Someone’s parents tossed this to me for watching her kid while she shopped, I guess.”

“Are you telling me-”

“Oh- No, wait. One of these is just left over from some food I grabbed.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you didn’t even earn anything while you were out there making a fool of yourself? Did you even try?” Was he angry? No, not quite. He couldn’t seem to work past “baffled.” It was enough to make him suspect whether he was actually the one who raised her the past thirteen years. 

Despite keeping his voice even for the public setting they were in, Brazeheard something and her arms crossed. Now she was defensive, here we go. 

“What?” she demanded. “I did what you asked. And you wanted me to wait in the area after. You found me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but you-”

“And do you know how often people want guards to chase off strange loitering kids?”

He narrowed his eyes. He’d been a strange loitering kid once himself, that’s why he chose populated areas for her - specifically to try to avoid that. “You never mentioned-”

“Because I took care of it.” 

Ubek gave her shoulder a smack - she interrupted him a couple times too many and he was pretty far past done with that. She scowled and huffed at him, but continued after with less attitude. Better. 

“You always say you don’t wanna babysit (which is good, because you’re terrible with people that you’re not threatening) and that I should be able to do things on my own, but then you get all…pissy and weird when I do. It would have taken five minutes, tops, to finish what I was doing, but then you came in like a surly old cuss and made a big thing of it; now it’s weird that I left just like that after being there all afternoon.”

“I didn’t-”  Damn this girl. He’d negotiated with some of the most dangerous people on the coast for much higher stakes than this. Why did he feel more and more often that he was losing conversations with this child. “I just need you to behave professionally. One of these days you’re going to get us both in trouble because you’re not paying attention.” 

She glowered at him for a moment, then dropped her arms and looked away. But before he could conclude the conversation over, she mumbled quietly, “I was just having fun…”

He didn’t look at her, but he could see her in his peripherals. It was a stark change from just a few minutes ago. Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later, life was difficult for folks like them. Even her mother- 

His jaw flexed. They continued walking in silence. Braze followed him into another right. Noise began to pick up ahead and, still not looking at her, he could feel her suspicions needling into him. Entering the square again, he could see the fountain musician packing his belongings away, and the fortune teller’s tent was still closed. Just the passive murmur of the crowd. 

Ubek leaned himself back onto a bench. 

“Well then, if you think your sudden departure could draw attention, wrap it up then. Should have said so to begin with.” 

Braze stared at him, trying to read his face. 

“You said you needed five minutes, so that’s all you have; Go!” he snapped. 

It took another second for the relief and delight to swell over her face. Then she tamed herself, posturing as if she hadn’t really cared to begin with. He couldn’t tell if he was being mocked or she just picked that up from somewhere. 

“Easy.” She tossed her hair. 

“Shameful line of work, entertainers,” he called after her. 

“Oh, is the thief going to preach to me?” she shouted back. He’d give her hell for talking like that out in public. Five minutes would give him plenty of time to build up steam. But he tossed the pear away while he waited. It was making his stomach twist.

#oc-tober #oc-tober2023 #braze #we love a paternal mentor figure who is so so emotionally stunted #voted number 1 least qualified in tricynth thirteen years in a row

[sundaybee]

One More Time (Julieta x Fem!Reader) Pt 2

As always I am not a native Spanish speaker, so if I butchered a sentence or word let me know so I may correct it.

This one ended up being super long so I hope it’s something you all find worth reading.

Part 2 of 20

Pt 3

I did not make the gif.

Things to note: Julieta is a widow. Reader is 30. Talks about depression early on.

Please don’t tear it apart too harshly!

For the next few days Julieta was buried beneath her depression. Seeing his suits hanging in the closet, finding his socks mixed with hers, it became overwhelming and she remained in bed.

“We need to get her out of bed. It’s not good for her.” Isabela whispered to her younger sisters as they stood outside her room.

“We can’t just force her if she isn’t up for it.” Luisa replied, frowning at the door.

As the two older girls bickered about what the right thing to do was, Mirabel perked up. 

“Why not take her to Palabras Suaves?” Mirabel asked. 

“The bookshop?” Luisa questioned.

“Sí, that day she fled from her booth, that's where I found her. Señorita Y/L/N was really kind to her and said she was welcome back anytime. They seemed to get along well.” Mirabel stated. 

“It couldn’t hurt.” Isabela mused. At the very least fresh air would do her some good.

——

You were nervously bouncing your leg and twisting your dress as you sat behind the counter. Ever since Julieta has come that day you had not stopped thinking about her. You thought about the pain she was experiencing. You thought about her sad eyes and overly thin frame. You prayed she was eating well. 

You balled up more material and continued to twist. You had developed the nervous habit later in life, starting it when your father died. It was easier to abuse the fabric than let your face give away your feelings. 

It didn’t seem right for you to go to the Madrigal house to check on her. You were practically a stranger to the woman.

Busying yourself was the only thing you could think to do so you brewed a cup of coffee for any potential customers and vanished among the books working on your inventory.

Ding.

The four Madrigal women entered the shop and Julieta felt completely at ease. The soft music, the smell of vanilla and coffee and paper, the peace. She hadn’t wanted to leave her bed, she wanted to wallow in her misery, but all three daughters had insisted she accompany them to Palabras Suaves. 

The idea of coming back had been on her mind ever since she left. You were kind and thoughtful and didn’t seem to mind her presence. It was proving to be difficult being a broken mother and the moment of normalcy she felt here she craved.

At the sound of the bell you retreated from your task, clipboard in hand, and smiled when you saw the four Madrigal women. 

“¡Bienvenidas! What can I do for you four today?” You asked enthusiastically. You were able to keep the frown away as you took note of how exhausted and small Julieta looked. You doubted she was eating like she should. 

“We came to get some books. Mom needed some fresh air as well so we insisted she come with us.” Mirabel stated. You glanced from the oldest to the youngest who looked at you with such intensity that it was impossible to miss what she was actually asking of you.

“Well girls, why don’t you have a look around and see what you can find and I’ll keep your mother company.” 

“Oh that isn’t nece-“ Julieta began before being cut off by Mirabel.

“Gracias Señorita! We appreciate it!” 

She took each of her sisters arms and dragged them away leaving the two women alone. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before you tilted your head in the direction of the chairs the two of you shared last time. 

Julieta followed the command and sat in the same chair as before. You appeared a few moments later, a mug of coffee in one hand and a fruit tray in the other. 

You placed the tray on the small side table between the two chairs and offered the warm drink. 

“Gracias, but aren’t you going to have one?” Julieta asked as she took the mug. You thought for a moment before rising and scanning the shelves. You plucked your own mug from an empty space and smiled at the brunette. 

“I’m always leaving my coffee somewhere.” You said and settled into the opposite chair. 

Julieta couldn’t help but softly smile and sipped the beverage. 

“How have you been?” You asked her. She fiddled with the mug and shrugged.

“Okay I suppose.”

You didn’t believe her. Her three daughters, or at the very least Mirabel, knew she wasn’t and brought her back here for a reason. 

“Eat.” You gestured to the fruit. Julieta simply glanced at it.

“I know it isn’t as good as cookies, but I was out of sugar.” You added before taking one of the grapes and popping it into your mouth. 

Julieta hummed in response and finally took a grape herself. You smiled. 

“I know you don’t want to, but your daughters need you to eat.” You said, causing the brunette to tense up. 

“Maybe.” She mumbled into her mug. 

For weeks she wondered if her children actually needed her. She was an empty shell of a woman, she wasn’t useful anymore. What they needed was their father, not her. Why did he have to go to the city to visit his brother? Why did that child have to run into the road to retrieve her ball? Why did he have to be so good and run into the street after her? He had his own children who needed him, and now he was gone for doing the right thing.

“When my father died my mother just shut down.” You said and when you realized Julieta wasn’t going to look up at you you continued.

“We were grieving and she was so broken. Her soulmate was gone.”

Julieta gripped the mug tightly and refused to look up at you.

“But I was still here. I still needed her, but she had just given up. She refused to eat, she refused to get out of bed. Her broken heart held her hostage and I was forced to watch her wither away.” 

Julieta finally glanced up at you. You were looking at her so softly. 

“She couldn’t recover from her broken heart, not even for me.” You had to stop and take a breath. The memory was like a scab. You were peeling it off and exposing the wound again. 

“Your daughters need you, even if you don’t feel worthy of them.”

“They have their tía and two tíos. Wonderful cousins and an abuela who would care for them. They’d be better off without someone so broken.” Julieta admitted in hushed tones, looking back down into her mug. Julieta never thought she’d admit the dark thoughts that plagued her, but here she was, doing so for you.

Your heart began to race at the woman’s implications. No. No she wouldn’t allow it. Rising from the chair you took the mug away from the brunette and placed it to the side. You took her hands and knelt before her and forced the healer to look at you.

“Señora Madrigal.” You said firmly, causing the woman to wince slightly.

“Don’t you dare assume your daughters would be better off without you! No matter what lies your depression conjures up, I promise you on my life those three girls need you more than ever!” 

Julieta squeezed her eyes closed, trying to force the tears away. 

“I know I’m practically a stranger to you but whenever these dark thoughts plague you and you feel alone I urge you to come here. I’m more than willing to help you feel better again.” You stated firmly.

That was enough for the older women who softly began to cry. You released her hands and gently pulled her to the floor and embraced her. One hand rested on her back and the other in her black and pepper hair. 

——

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Julieta's three daughters had been peeking through the bookshelves watching and listening. Isabela’s heart broke hearing how broken her mother felt. She knew she was suffering, but she never thought to the degree of so much self hatred. She looked at her two younger siblings who wore grim masks. 

When you pulled their mother to the ground Mirabel was about to go to the two of you but Isabela grabbed her arm and shook her head. Mirabel pouted but nodded and the eldest daughter gestured to follow her. 

“Mira you were right, this place is good for mom.” Isabela said. You were kind and gentle with their mother and it was something she needed desperately. 

“I wish mom would have spoken to us about how alone she felt.” Luisa said, frowning at the ground. 

“No good mother would dare tell their children how broken they were. She wouldn’t want us to know this.” Isabela stated. She made a mental note to keep a close eye on her mother, to make sure she didn’t act on any dark thoughts.

“It’ll be good for mom to have a friend outside of the family to talk to.” She added and both sisters nodded in agreement. 

——

You patiently listened to her soft cries and rubbed her back until her cries turned into sniffles.

“Lo siento, I didn’t mean to do that.” She said, pulling back and rubbing her face. 

“It’s better to let it out. You’ll feel better.” You said, dropping your hands to your lap. 

Julieta thought about it, she did feel a little better actually. She didn’t miss the irony of having similar conversations with her sister growing up. 

You pulled a handkerchief from your dress pocket and offered it to the woman who gladly accepted and cleaned her face.  

“You’re very kind.” Julieta stated and followed your lead when you rose. 

“I believe that we will never truly know how far a little kindness will go. I share it whenever I can.” 

“That’s a lovely thought.” Julieta said and placed the handkerchief in her apron pocket. 

“I’ll wash and return it to you.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“Well I want to.” She said firmly and you held your hands up in mock defeat. 

“Mom, are you ready to go?” Mirabe’s voice cut through and both women turned to see the three girls standing at the entrance of the aisle, each with a book pressed to their chests. 

“Sí im ready.” She responded and went to her girls, you following behind. 

As she opened her coin purse you gently placed your hand on her wrist. 

“Free of charge.”

“No no we can’t just take them.” Julieta stated.

“Your family offers their services for free daily. I think I can part with three books.” You said. Glancing at Mirabel you winked at her and received a grin. 

“¡Gracias Señorita!”

“Por favor, call me Y/N.” You stated and smiled at all three girls. 

The four women left and your eyes lingered on Julieta as they passed the store front window. You prayed she took your words to heart and would be back.

#julieta madrigal #julieta madrigal x reader #julieta x fem reader #reader insert #julieta x reader #Encanto #One More Time

[serenailith]

yesterday’s gone (we’ll make it through)—ii

on ao3 here

previous | next

Hob Gadling will extol to the end of his existence the pleasures of a lie-in in the morning, followed by a cup of hot tea while listening to some good music. And that’s exactly what his Wednesdays involve. With no classes until afternoon, Hob relishes the peace and quiet that comes with living alone.

Sure, sometimes he gets a bit lonely, but all he has to do then is go downstairs to the pub. Conversation and the occasional bed companion aren’t that hard to find, particularly not when the seeker has lived for six centuries and knows all the best pick-up lines. Hob isn’t one to boast—not as much as before, anyway, not since he was rebuked by his Stranger—but he leads a rather charmed life for something so simple.

“I would rather go blind, boy,” he sings softly as he stirs his tea, “than to see you walk away from me.”

The words dredge up the memory of a black-clad figure striding away through the stormy night. Shaking his head, Hob forces his thoughts in a different direction. 1889 was so long ago; he has long grown accustomed to the twinge of remorse whenever he thought of how he’d offended his Stranger. It doesn’t mean he likes thinking about it. Especially since the Stranger never showed up in 1989 like Hob had hoped.

Hob sighs and carries his mug to the dining table where his breakfast already sits. Of course he would let himself get melancholic over a friendship he ruined over a hundred years earlier. The morning is too bright and beautiful for this, he scolds himself as he takes a sip of his tea. Instead of lingering any longer on thoughts of his Stranger, Hob focuses on making a mental list of things he needs to do today.

His musings are interrupted by the shrill shriek of his ringtone. He frowns and stands, grabbing his phone from the counter where it’s charged overnight. No one should be interrupting his morning, not this early. The number on the screen is unfamiliar, and he very nearly ignores the call. Something feels different, wrong, however, so he accepts the call and brings the device to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Robert Gadling?“

And that’s a name Hob is still unaccustomed to hearing. He’d decided to use his given name once more when he settled back in London again, five years ago. Most people have taken to calling him Hob, though, at his request. It feels right, being called ‘Hob’.

“Yes, this is he.”

“Hi, sir. My name is Madeline, I’m a nurse here at St Thomas’s Hospital. We have a patient here who gave us your name as an emergency contact.”

Hob frowns and scratches at his chin. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.”

“A Mister Murphy told us your name. We’ve done a lot of work to find you, Mister Gadling,” she says with a soft chuckle.

Murphy? Hob doesn’t know anyone by the name of Murphy. Before he can say anything, the woman is continuing:

“He’s awake if you would like to speak to him.”

Hob hesitates. He doesn’t know this Murphy person. It’s a prank; it has to be. There’s no reason for anyone to be ringing him, asking for him, especially with a name unfamiliar to him. Frankly, Hob has no time for this.

“Yeah, sure,” he says instead of ending the call like he’d planned.

Static fills the line, and he reaches for his tea to swallow a mouthful while he waits. The mug drops to his lap, spilling scalding liquid across his thighs, before bouncing to the floor. He can scarcely hear the shattering ceramic over the roaring in his ears.

It’s been a hundred and thirty-some years, but Hob will never forget that voice for as long as he lives.

“I’ll be right there,” he says without waiting for more.

Hob is nearly out the door when he remembers he’s still wearing his tea-covered pyjamas. After rushing to change into something dry and more appropriate for public, he grabs his keys and rushes out of his flat.

The drive to St Thomas’s takes longer than Hob thinks it should. Eventually, he arrives and parks, barrels through the doors.

Hob expected to see his Stranger perched imperiously on the bed, glowering at the mere mortals intent on examining him. Hob anticipated his Stranger demanding release from the hospital’s clutches.

This isn’t what Hob sees when he finally finds the correct room.

His Stranger, his Friend, lies pallid and gaunt against the pillows, dark shock of hair lying limp around his hollow cheeks. An IV runs into the crook of his arm, a monitor tracking each heartbeat and oxygen levels. Heavy dark circles underscore blue eyes lacking life. A swath of red mars the perfect pale flesh from temple to jaw.

Hob has never seen his Stranger so small. So human.

It’s awe-inspiring, if a bit terrifying.

“What the Hell happened to you?” Hob breathes from where he stands in the doorway. “I thought you were—” Untouchable, he thinks but doesn’t say.

The Stranger’s face darkens, but a presence behind Hob puts a halt to anything either man might want to say. Hob stays off to the side as the doctor speaks to the Stranger, tells him how lucky he is that his injuries weren’t more extensive. That he hadn’t starved to death before he could be brought in for care.

Lucky. As if whatever landed the Stranger here was ‘luck’. The Stranger should be off doing whatever he does in the century between meetings with Hob. Not lying in a bed looking so much like a broken mortal being.

At Hob’s questioning, at the Stranger’s clear need for answers, the doctor sighs and crosses his arms. They listen with rapt attention as he tells them that a kind stranger had found ‘Murphy’ on the side of the road, entirely naked and bleeding in a torrential downpour. She’d stayed by his side until he was admitted, leaving only when the nurses told her they couldn’t give her any more information.

Hob wonders if she’d left her name and number, so he could thank her for saving his Friend’s life.

The doctor leaves with an order for ‘Murphy’ to stay another night for observation and a quick nod in Hob’s direction. As soon as the door closes, the Stranger’s gaze drops to the bedsheets. Hob blows out a steadying breath and moves to the chair to the right of the bed.

The Stranger looks worse up close. The blue-grey of his eyes is muted, whether from pain or painkillers, Hob doesn’t know. His palms are scraped to Hell and back, and Hob can see the deep valley of his clavicle over the neckline of the hospital gown.

If asked at any point since 1389, Hob would have said the Stranger holds galaxies in his eyes. Now, Hob sees nothing of the galaxies and every bit of the nothingness.

The Stranger clears his throat quietly. “I apologise for disturbing you. I had. . . I had nowhere else to turn,” he says slowly, grimacing as if the admission is truly painful. And perhaps it is.

Perhaps he remembers their last conversation, when Hob had called him lonely and he had vowed to prove Hob wrong.

“I told you in 1889,” Hob begins, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable, “we’re friends. Friends are there for each other, even after a century of no contact.”

Something warms deep in his chest at the minuscule smile that crosses the Stranger’s face. He settles back against his pillows, eyes fluttering closed. Hob hesitates—this isn’t the moment to ask, but he’s waited six centuries. So he does; he asks his Stranger for a name, anything by which to call him. His Friend’s lips form a simple sentence before he falls silent and still:

“I am called Dream, to friends.”

Dream. Hob supposes it could be worse, though he can’t imagine a parent in any era wanting to bestow that name upon their child. Or has Dream had other aliases? Perhaps he’s changed his name through the centuries, much like Hob has.

He almost lets himself debate which is a worse name: Dream or Murphy. Murphy wins by a landslide, before Hob forcibly shoves the thoughts away.

Hob watches Dream’s concave chest rise and fall with each breath. The inhale, exhale, rattles in the quiet. Hob wonders if Dreams has a broken rib or some sort of injury to cause the noise. He thinks that maybe the doctor would have said something if it were a case of damaged ribs. The doctor hadn’t said much, though Hob thinks he really should have.

This is his friend lying in the bed, hurt and lost, but there’s nothing Hob can do. It’s not like he can walk up to the doctor and say, “Do better than your best, because this is my best friend of six hundred years.”

Hob never thought he’d see his Stranger again. He had hoped. So often had he hoped and prayed to gods of all pantheons. Endless nights were spent at his bedside, on bended knee with hands clasped before his chest, pleading for a chance to amend what he messed up so spectacularly. After nearly three decades of no communication, Hob had given up and accepted that perhaps it was his Stranger’s desire.

That what he’d ruined couldn’t be fixed.

Hob hopes it means something that Dream considered him someone reliable. After all, Dream had called upon him when in need. It has to mean something.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream of the endless x hob gadling #my writing #yesterday's gone

[pulaasul]

Kisaragi Gentaro Befriends the Universe - Cosmic Luck

Gentaro finds himself in a universe where heroes use magic jewelry to save the day, not unlike Kamen Rider Wizard, how will he fair in this world?

A/N:

Shoutout to @kn96artworks for drawing Ladybug!Gentaro and BugNoire!Gentaro. 

I also have consent from the artist allowing me to post their artwork in this post. Go check out their other works.

To @rainixdra for helping me come up of Gentaro’s Miraculous hero name

To @flaim-ita as their answers on a few anon-asks was what inspired this entire series. Same goes for @dangerouscommiesubversive

This was written before the Season 5 finale of Miraculous Ladybug aired but I tweaked it enough to be canon compliant to the walking spoiler's ethereal appearance.

(full artwork:  https://kn96artworks.tumblr.com/post/716110771124371456/ladybug-gentaro-requested-by-puwaasuru-also-he#notes)

Ao3 I FFN

----

Gentaro found himself away from civilization judging from the luscious green forest that greeted him as soon as he exited the dimensional veil following after Foundation X.

He reverted to Base States from Cosmic States and equipped the rocket module on himself. Using the rocket in his hand, he flew in the direction of where he thought the forest's exit was, hoping to figure out where he was in this universe

As soon as he had found the forest's exit before he could even increase the rocket's thrust to exit the forest in a timely manner, something red washed over him and his surroundings. The luscious green forest he found himself in when he entered this universe was replaced by tall buildings and street signs, revealing that he was in the middle of a city all along.

"Phantom?" Gentaro couldn't help but ask himself. "An explanation from Kengo, Miu, or even JK would be great right about now." He mused to himself as he walked towards the sidewalk, de-transforming in the process.

While Gentaro has a hard time pinpointing what power set belonged to what group, he knew that this wasn't the Helheim forest because the weird fruits that grew in that forest were absent.

Gentaro shook his head as he continued to walk in a directionless manner when he saw a very famous landmark.

The Eiffel Tower.

Gentaro was a long way from Japan.

---------

It was a while later when Gentaro went inside a bakery to at least get something to eat. He didn't think he had eaten anything since he started chasing after Foundation X from the last world he was in.

"Good afternoon," Gentaro was greeted by the person at the register taking payment from buying customers. "Please look around and get anything you like."

Gentaro nodded and browsed at the loaves of bread for sale within the bakery.

A few moments later, the last of the customers left the bakery when someone else entered the store.

"Marinette," The woman left her station. "Are you okay, I heard about the recent Akuma." She gently fussed at the girl, trying to see if she has any injuries.

Gentaro frowned upon hearing the word 'Akuma', the word just sounded different to him, even when things were automatically translated to Japanese for him.

"I'm fine Maman," The girl, Marinette, assured her mother. "Ladybug and Cat Noir managed to save everyone before everything could go wrong."

"Oh, I hope Ladybug and Cat Noir aren't too exhausted."

"Do not worry, Maman, I'm sure they're fine." Marinette smiled at her mother.

"Akuma? Like demons?"

The mother-daughter pair looked at Gentaro in shock before finally realizing the kind of situation they were in.

"You must be a tourist." Marinette's mother deduced. "I'm Sabine Cheng, and this is Marinette, we own this bakery."

"I'm Gentaro Kisaragi, I'm the man who'll befriend everyone in the world." Gentaro returned the favor and introduced himself with his usual flair, ending with slicking his hair backward, maintaining his pompadour.

"You're funny, Monsieur Kisaragi," Marinette's mother chuckled. "Marinette, please catch Monsieur Kisaragi up to speed on what he needs to expect while in Paris." She returned to the register just in time for the next customer to enter the bakery.

"So, Akuma…"

Marinette told Gentaro about what the Akuma business was all about, some of the customers even chimed in their personal stories from being turned into one to being targeted by one. She also told Gentaro what their goal was and who was sending them.

"To stop an Akuma, one just needs to destroy the thing that was possessed by a purple butterfly?"

"It's not that easy, even moreso now than before." Marinette sighed.

Marinette, with the customers chiming in a few times, about Paris's heroes and how they work so hard to protect Paris from Hawkmoth, no Monarch now.

"So Ladybug and Chat Noir are heroes?" Gentaro grinned. "Can I meet them? I'm the guy who will be friends with all heroes around the world."

"I'm sure they would love to meet you, M Kisaragi." Marinette smiled.

As soon as Gentaro was fully caught up with what was happening in Paris as if on cue, multiple devices started ringing.

"Akuma Alert"

Everyone, barring Marinette, looked at the holographic screens their respective rings were displaying.

It displayed the journalist reporting live at where the Akuma was located. From the looks of everyone's shocked faces, the Akuma was dangerously getting closer to the bakery.

Outside the bakery, people could be seen running away from something.

"Everyone, please stay calm, Marinette let the fleeing people in," Sabine immediately took charge. "Look out for your father, he went out to deliver cake to Mme Chamack."

Marinette immediately heeded her mother's orders and beckoned the fleeing people to get inside the bakery.

That was when everyone got a closer look at the Akuma, and it looked like one of those Roidmudes Inspector Tomari fought against.

He was able to immediately confirm it when the slowdown phenomenon happened, something he was familiar with. Everyone's senses were still functioning properly but everything else was slowed down to the point of stopping, not even a speck of dust moved during the phenomenon.

Gentaro's eyes widened when he saw the Roidmude transform into a different kind of monster, which returned the flow of time back to normal.

Marinette did not hesitate to get back up and drag the people who had fallen down near the bakery's entrance inside the store.

The former Roidmude had transformed into a Bugster, one of the minor Bugsters that Dr. Hojo and the other Doctor Riders fought against. The Roidmude-turned-Bugster began firing orange beams at the people who fell on the road as a result of the slowdown phenomenon the Roidmude form caused.

The people, who were hit by the beams, vanished from where they stood.

Gentaro shook his head and helped Marinette drag more people inside the bakery, to prevent any more casualties, and closed the door behind him, as soon as Marinette was inside.

Gentaro flicked the switches on his belt.

"Three, Two, One." The belt counted down.

"Henshin." Gentaro called out as he pushed the lever on his belt.

Gentaro transformed into Kamen Rider Fourze.

"Uchuu Kitaaa!" Fourze exclaimed before equipping himself with the radar and rocket modules.

"Kamen Rider Fourze, I see you've even followed us to this world."

"Launcher on."

Fourze equipped his foot with the launcher module and launched a number of rockets at the enemy, all of which vanished as soon as they were hit with orange beams from the Bugster.

"Foundation X, what are you doing in this world, there are no Riders here!"

"All the more reason to be here, no pesky Super Sentai or Kamen Riders to thwart our plans."

The Bugster transformed into a pink monster with wings, an all too familiar form for Gentaro.

"Virgo."

"I may have taken Virgo's form, but you can call me, Shifter," The transforming monster introduced himself.

Gentaro immediately went into Cosmic states, changing his white suit into blue, and began trading blows with Shifter as Virgo.

It came as a surprise to Gentaro that Shifter fought a lot like the Virgo he once knew. The way his opponent utilized his wings and staff, even the way he threw projectiles at him was very similar to the Virgo that helped him and his friends behind the scenes.

Gentaro shook his head and focused on the fight at hand.

Even if this Foundation X member was very good at copying Virgo down to his fighting style, Gentaro himself has fought Virgo a lot of times, copies of the original Virgo, and beat them.

"Giant Foot on."

Fourze's right foot was equipped with a red boot and used it to kick the air in front of him.

A giant red boot materialized in front of Virgo before he was slammed into a nearby building after it mimicked Fourze's actions.

"Not bad."

Shifter used his wings to shrug off the debris and fly before using his staff to summon a number of projectiles and threw them towards the Kamen Rider.

"Don't mind if I drop in," A person in a black cat costume, complete with cat ears, landed in front of Gentaro and spun his staff, and defended themselves from the projectiles, disintegrating them in the process. "To whom do I have the pleasure of protecting?"

"Ha! I didn't know that this world's heroes are so naïve!" Shifter laughed. "Foolish cat, that's my Sentimonster!"

"Senti-wha?"

The black cat hero immediately retreated from Gentaro.

"Now, Fourze grab Chat Noir's miraculous!"

"What? Eeeeeeh!" Gentaro exclaimed at the order.

"Not happening!" The black cat hero, identified as Chat Noir, assumed a defensive stance.

"You've got it wrong!" Gentaro tried to explain. "I'm not that guy's senti-something." He pointed at Shifter's form.

Chat Noir rushed towards Gentaro and attacked him with his staff.

Gentaro didn't hesitate to defend himself and attack the cat hero.

"Listen to me!" Fourze ducked from a horizontal staff strike to his head. "I'm not that guy's senti-something!"

"Likely story," Chat Noir growled. "You villains are all the same, you trick people into trusting you and then you stab them in the back." He split his spear in two. "You lie just to get what you want."

"Like I – whoa!" Gentaro jumped over the compacted spear thrown at him.

Suddenly, Shifter, still in Virgo's form, grabbed hold of Chat Noir's wrist, the one that has a silver ring on his finger.

"Crap!"

"Oh so naïve, kitty cat, you left yourself wide open for me."

Shifter raised Chat Noir's arms so high that the cat hero's feet hovered over the ground.

"Hold it, Monarch, what do I get once I give you the Miraculous?" Shifter talked to no one in particular. "Aside from keeping my powers permanently."

Before anyone could even hear a reply, Shifter was hit at the back of his head. He angrily looked in the direction where it came from only to see nothing. As soon as he returned his attention to his captured hero, he was greeted by a whack on the face, courtesy of the same cat hero.

"You!"

"It was pun-tastic to know that you cared enough to meowsearch about the Miraculous," Chat Noir flipped backward until he was standing side-by-side with Gentaro. "But you've made a meow-jestic error."

"Chat Noir's right," Ladybug landed between Fourze and Chat Noir.

"Thank you for dropping by, Milady." Chat Noir grinned as he gave a bow to the ladybug heroine.

"Monarch doesn't have the Peacock Miraculous anymore." The Ladybug hero smirked.

"Which would mean, this new hero here isn't a Sentimonster." The Cat hero gave a cheshire grin.

"Hero kitaaaaaaaa!" Fourze suddenly exclaimed, overjoyed at meeting the heroes of the world.

"Sorry for the catty greeting," Chat Noir apologized. "I'm Chat Noir, purr-eased to meet meow."

"You and your puns, kitty," Ladybug rolled her eyes. "I'm Ladybug, we're the heroes of Paris."

"Kamen Rider Fourze, Gentaro Kisaragi, the guy who will befriend every hero in the world."

Gentaro introduced himself with his usual flair of pumping his chest before pointing at his conversation partner.

"Eh? You're just willing to give your identity, away?"

"I don't think he's hiding it in the first place, I saw him transform by the Dupain-Cheng's Bakery." Ladybug informed her partner.

"Still, where is the Akuma?" Chat Noir pondered.

"STOP IGNORING ME!" Shifter bellowed out as he inserted something square in front of his waist and changed forms.

Shifter's form changed from Virgo into that of a weird plant-like creature in red with a weird sword in hand.

As soon as Shifter's form changed, various vines started attacking the trio of heroes.

The heroes themselves were busy defending themselves from the attacking vines. Ladybug and Chat Noir cut the vines rushing at them by spinning their respective weapons, a yoyo, and staff.

Gentaro had equipped his left hand with an oversized pair of scissors and cut the vines coming for him and the heroes he just met.

Suddenly, vines sprouted from the pavement where they stood, separating the three heroes from each other, all the while covering the surrounding area with foliage.

"Ladybug! Chat Noir!" Fourze called out, but no reply came.

"Fire on."

Gentaro was extremely worried that he immediately equipped his right hand with a flame thrower. He started burning away the offending vegetation in the area as he advanced to where he thought the other two heroes were.

He continued his advance forward, burning the attacking vines to ash, when he realized something and then faced his enemy.

"What's this? Abandoning our friends?" Shifter taunted.

"Scissor on."

Gentaro re-equipped himself with his scissors and let his flame thrower disappear.

"I should not worry about my buds, they've been at this since long before I came here." Gentaro pressed another thing on his chest.

"Fire on."

"Is that so?" The Akumatized Foundation X member jumped and slashed the air with his staff, sending a sharp gust of wind toward the astronaut-themed hero. "They're not Riders like you."

"They're still heroes," Gentaro flipped backward and retaliated by sending a flaming arc towards his opponent. "I can trust them to fight their battles."

"Isn't that touching?" The foundation X member scoffed and stabbed his staff on the ground, as more and more vines erupted from the ground and surrounded the whole area.

Vines had wrapped around buildings, cars, and even helicopters, keeping everyone inside them captive.

"Gentaro-"

"O-oh!" Gentaro jumped back when he saw two beings, red and black, approaching him.

"Gentaro, we entrust you the Miraculous of Creation and Destructio-"

"Ha! Those Kwamis are what gives Ladybug and Chat Noir their power!" Shifter cut off the small red being's spiel. "Don't mind if I do."

Acting instinctively, Gentaro immediately grabbed the jewels the beings carried.

---------

Gentaro found himself floating in a black void, not unlike the void of space, in his civilian attire, and before him was an ethereal pink winged-being that towered over him.

---------

Gentaro found himself back into the fight, just in time to dodge an attack from Shifter's vines.

"Miraculous Kiiitaaaa!"

"Give me those Miraculous!" Shifter sent more vines towards Fourze.

"Fat chance!" Gentaro ducked from an incoming vine. "If you're not giving these to Monarch, you're using them yourself."

"Of course!"

Gentaro switched off his driver and de-transformed out of his Rider armor. His belt glowed white before it transformed into a white globe, not unlike the transformation trinkets of the Kyurangers, a Kyutama.

"What are you planning?" Shifter questioned.

"Just this, Tikki, henshin!"

"E-eh, Gentaro, that's not how you transform using my powers."

"E-eh?!"

"You need to say 'Spots On' to transform using me." Tikki informed.

"Well then, Tikki, Spots On!"

Tikki fused with the earrings that Gentaro put on his ear before he glowed red. As soon as he glowed red, his appearance changed almost immediately.

Shifter had to use the vines to cover his eyes in an effort not to be blinded by the red glow his enemy was giving.

As soon as the red glow subsided, Gentaro sported a new look, something that's pretty familiar to the Foundation X member.

(full artwork: https://kn96artworks.tumblr.com/post/716110771124371456/ladybug-gentaro-requested-by-puwaasuru-also-he)

"Who are you supposed to be?" Shifter scoffed. "Are you supposed to be a fusion of Stronger and Riderman?"

Gentaro was now wearing a black chest plate with a silhouette of a ladybug sporting white spots, on its center.

Under the chest plate was a white-spotted red cloth that covered his entire body while sporting black gloves and boots.

His head was only covered by a regular helmet with two antennas sticking out from each side that completely exposed his face, if not for the domino mask that surround his eyes.

A black belt wrapped around his hips and the buckle was adorned with a sculpture of a ladybug that housed a complex symbol in red.

He also wore a white scarf that flow freely against the wind.

"So, what's your name?" Plagg floated in front of Gentaro.

"Hmmm, I'm Male Ladybug!" Gentaro declared proudly.

"No!" Plagg shook his head as he recovered from the very bad name this new hero gave himself. "And just so you know, Mister Bug is already taken."

"Hmm, well then…" Gentaro hummed. "The Luck powers remind me of Lucky and the red reminds me of Super Sentai…" He trailed off as he decided on his name. "I'll be Miraider, because I'm using a Miraculous and I'm a Kamen Rider."

Gentaro shifted his attention to the monster he was facing.

"Excuse you, I'm a fusion of Kamen Riders Stronger, Riderman, and Tackle!" Gentaro pointed at Shifter. "Now let's do this man to man."

"Fourze, Stronger, Tackle, Riderman, Miraider, whatever, it doesn't change the fact that you're giving me those jewels."

"Not a chance, Shifter!" Gentaro's white scarf transformed into ladybug wings and lifted him into the air. "You're not getting these."

"Miraider, not a bad - " Plagg started to praise when he noticed an incoming projectile. "Look out!" He immediately called out.

Shifter, in frustration, transformed back into the form of Virgo and chased after Gentaro, however, the vines remained rooted in their positions. He fired several energy-based projectiles in the hopes of slowing his enemy down.

Miraider dodged all the projectiles that Shifter threw at him, big thanks to Plagg for alerting him of them.

Growing more frustrated by the minute, Shifter used Virgo's power to levitate various objects and threw them in Gentaro's direction.

"You know, you could get more mileage if you summon a lucky charm." Plagg piped beside Gentaro who continually dodged the physical projectiles coming his way.

"Lucky what?"

"Lucky Charm, it creates an item that would be beneficial for you to defeat the opponent."

"How do I summon that whatever charm?" Gentaro asked as he flew higher up in the air.

"Would you stop moving?!" Shifter growled as lifted two trucks and threw them toward Gentaro.

"Just call it out, Lucky Charm." Plagg replied after Gentaro cut the two trucks with his yoyo, causing them to explode behind the two of them.

"Okay? Lucky Charm?"

A loveliness of ladybugs congregated towards Gentaro's yoyo and revealed a small red ring with white spots, which landed on Gentaro's palm.

"Can it be?" Plagg hummed before whispering in Gentaro's ears. "You need to unify mine's and Tikki's powers, just say Tikki, Plagg Unify." He instructed. "Fair warning, unifying mine's and Sugarcube's powers takes a lot out of the user."

"Don't worry, I can handle this." Gentaro assured.

"Ha! What can a ring do for you, Fourze?" Shifter threw two more energy-based projectiles.

"This!" Gentaro opened his guard and put on both rings on two of his fingers. "Tikki, Plagg, Unify!"

----------

Gentaro found himself back in the presence of the being. He was still in awe of the presence of the gigantic pink winged-being and he vowed to befriend them, as he always does.

---------

Gentaro momentarily glowed green before his appearance changed once more. He now sported a black belt with green accents around his hips and his black chest plate gained a silhouette of a cat in green.

He now has a belt extension that hung freely behind like a cat tail as all black parts of his outfit sported green accents. The black chest plate he has now has a green outline of a cat towering over the ladybug with white spots.

His helmet's ladybug antennas were replaced by two cat ears.

(full artwork: https://kn96artworks.tumblr.com/post/716110771124371456/ladybug-gentaro-requested-by-puwaasuru-also-he)

"And it's still Miraider, Shifter."

Gentaro used his yoyo to latch it onto a nearby balcony rail and swung from it, kicking Shifter's chest in the process, and landed on the roof of the same building.

In Shifter's ever-growing frustration, he uprooted two pieces of park equipment: a monkey bar and a slide; and launched them toward Gentaro, who simply used his staff to bat the large projectiles away from him.

Gentaro used his yoyo to catch some of the debris from the uprooted equipment and threw them toward his opponent before he launched his staff toward Shifter's waist and hit the small black box that fell to the ground.

Shifter immediately reached for the falling box as its contents spilled out. He was only able to grab one card, which he immediately inserted into his belt buckle.

Gentaro jumped from the roof, used his scarf-wings to control his descent, and landed before the fallen box and cards.

"Another Decade"

Shifter's appearance shifted into a monstrous version of Kamen Rider Decade.

"Another Rider," Gentaro panted.

"Let us see how the Miraculous handle the power of the Destroyer of Worlds." Shifter declared as he opened a number of aurora veils.

"Cataclysm." Gentaro stated as the black box and the cards he had gathered turned into black ash.

Various monsters and villains exited the veils and surrounded Gentaro, leaving no way out of the predicament.

"Lucky Charm!"

The black-spotted red ring on Gentaro's finger vanished as another loveliness of ladybugs congregated on his yoyo and conjured a black-spotted red replica of his staff that he had thrown earlier.

Gentaro looked at his new staff curiously before looking around him. That was when he noticed the damage the summoned vines took as the battle progressed.

He immediately searched for his own staff, which he found under the rubble just a few paces behind Shifter.

The summoned villains did not give Miraider a chance to get his staff and rushed at him. Gentaro effortlessly slammed them to the standing vines with the spotted replica of his staff in his hands, used his yoyo and grabbed his staff from between Shifter's legs, and swept his legs, knocking him down as a result.

Miraider threw his staves in two different directions, cutting down the vines that surrounded the area in the process, causing them to fall down on the summoned villains, taking all of them out of the fight.

"You may have taken out the Dark Riders, Fourze, but you still have to fight me." Shifter stood up.

"Without your cards, you can't transform into other monsters." Gentaro pointed out.

"Another Decade is plenty powerful." Shifter rushed towards Miraider and began attacking the new Miraculous holder with a flurry of punches and kicks.

Miraider managed to block and parry all of his opponent's attacks.

The constant blocking and parrying of his strikes frustrated Shifter even more than before. He kicked Miraider's stomach and jumped back, getting some distance from his opponent. He gave his belt a single pound before jumping back in the air positioning himself with one foot in front of him.

Multiple translucent cards appeared in front of Shifter before he passed through them, his kick gained more power with each translucent card he passes through.

Gentaro braced himself from the obvious Rider kick that Shifter was doing when the staves, he threw earlier to knock the spires of vines that erupted from the ground, taking out the summoned warriors from the fight, hit the back of Shifter's head, derailing his opponent from the trajectory.

The hit canceled the attack, so to speak.

Thinking fast, Gentaro immediately used his yoyo and latched onto one of Shifter's wrists and pulled the Akumatized villain to him before twisting his opponent's arm on his back.

"What are you doing, Fourze?" Shifter growled.

"This," Gentaro raised his finger in front of Shifter's face. "Cataclysm."

Black energy surrounded Miraider's finger before it made contact with Shifter's belt buckle, turning it to black ash.

A purple butterfly emerged from the black ash as black goo surrounded Shifter before it dissipated and revealed a man in a white uniform.

As if he knew what to do next, Miraider opened his yoyo, for lack of a better term, and threw it at the flying purple butterfly.

"Come here and be my friend, Akuma."

Miraider caught the purple butterfly with his yoyo and pulled his weapon back to him. He opened said yoyo and released the caught butterfly, this time it was white, purified of the purple taint it had earlier.

"Let's be friends pretty butterfly." Gentaro grinned as he raised his fist in front of the butterfly.

Gentaro gently bumped his fist onto the butterfly's small form, thrice from three different starting points: the front; above; and below, much to the onlooker's bewilderment. Even more bizarre was the fact that the butterfly mirrored his actions and intentionally flew towards the enclosed fist as if it knew that they were doing a handshake.

Once the butterfly flew away from him, Gentaro looked at the damage the fight against Shifter had brought to the city and sighed.

Gentaro's battles before didn't do this much damage to the city. He has deliberately led his opponents away from potential victims of crossfire and property damage whenever he can, either by getting himself hit by the opponent's attack and rolling into a specific direction or simply hitting his enemies forcing them to move to a specific location.

Which would often lead to one of these locations: an abandoned warehouse, a forest, or an abandoned quarry.

Gentaro shook his head and started picking up the long and thick vines that he had deliberately dropped on the Dark Riders that were summoned.

"M. Ki- Miraider!" Gentaro heard a familiar voice.

"Ma-marinette?"

"You need to do one more thing," Marinette shouted. "You need to throw your lucky charm in the air and say Miraculous Miraider!"

With nothing to lose from following a civilian's suggestion, Gentaro followed Marinette's instructions.

"Miraculous Miraider!" Gentaro threw his spotted staff in the air.

The red staff glowed red before it turned into a loveliness of ladybugs and flew everywhere, reversing the damage done by the battle against Shifter. The vines disappeared, and the holes that the vines had sprouted from disappeared.

Even the people who were unfortunate enough to be struck by Shifter all came back, standing, in the places where they were struck.

It's as if the battle against Shifter did not happen at all.

The only evidence that there was a battle at all was the fact that Gentaro was still using the Miraculous of Creation and Destruction.

"So that's what made the forest earlier disappear!" Gentaro remarked. "Well, that takes care of that." He grinned.

That was when he noticed a white van speed away from the scene, the Foundation X villain that was possessed by an Akuma missing from where he was lying earlier.

"He got away." Gentaro sighed.

Marinette and a blond boy approached Gentaro, and he waved at them.

"You're using the Miraculous of Creation and Destruction." The boy commented. "What happened to Ladybug and Chat Noir? He asked.

"I'm sure they're fine." Gentaro assured the kids.

"Would you give the Miraculous Back to them?" Marinette asked, fidgeting.

"Of course!" Gentaro grinned. "I just need to figure out how to transform ba- Oh!"

----------

Gentaro was back in front of the gigantic being he's been seeing lately. This time he was able to interact with the ethereal being by doing the same thing he did with the butterfly earlier to the being, his signature handshake.

---------

"Oh?" The blond boy tilted his head.

"I just learned how." Gentaro smiled. "Tikki, Plagg divide."

A black being exited the ring on Miraider's finger, taking away anything relating to cats, as well as any shade of green from his appearance.

"Tikki, spots off."

The ladybug-themed suit disappeared, leaving Gentaro in his civilian clothes, as a red being exited from the earrings he was wearing.

"Y-you…"

"Happy to help, Tikki." Gentaro grinned at the red being.

"Have to say, Sugarcube, he's not half bad," Plagg commented. "Not many people can do what he just did."

"But, but…" Tikki wanted to press the issue further but opted to sigh instead. "Still, thank you for assisting."

"What buds are for." Gentaro grinned as he offered his enclosed fist to the red being.

Curious as to what the gesture was, Tikki flew towards the enclosed fist and bumped it. Before Tikki knew what was happening, Gentaro gently bumped Tikki's head and then their feet.

"Oh! That looks fun!"

Plagg flew towards Gentaro's fist and bumped into it, unlike Tikki, Plagg met with the fist with their head and their feet.

"We should return to our holders now."

"You're right." Plagg agreed.

"Here you go," Gentaro gave Plagg and Tikki their respective Miraculous. "Thanks for lending me your powers."

"It was our pleasure, Gentaro-san." Tikki bowed their head before they flew off, maybe back to Ladybug.

Plagg merely waved one of their tiny paws at Gentaro before following Tikki's lead, flying back to Chat Noir.

"We should go," The blond boy suggested. "You could be mobbed by people asking what happened to Ladybug and Chat Noir and ask you a lot of questions."

"Agreed," Marinette nodded. "Let's go to the bakery before everyone realizes that you were the hero who saved the day."

"I can run a distraction," The blond boy. "I can just say that Miraider went somewhere."

"No, that lie could backfire, Adrien." Marinette shook her head.

----------

In the days following Shifter's defeat, Gentarou was able to: find himself a place to sleep; and give Paris's heroes minimal assistance knowing they could handle themselves.

He was even able to subject both heroes to his signature handshake, which left both of them slack-jawed, for what reason, he doesn't know.

He was also able to learn that he was using magic when he was using the Miraculous to fight Shifter and apparently, the magic that he was using ensured that no one, who wasn't watching him as he transformed and de-transform as the heroes would be able to connect him to Miraider.

Even Gentarou and Kamen Rider Fourze would not be connected, at least in this world.

During peaceful times, he was able to tell both Ladybug and Chat Noir how he came to their world. His story was corroborated by the surprise appearance of the Rabbit Miraculous holder, Bunnyx, two versions of her.

To Ladybug's and Chat Noir's surprise, both the young and old versions of Bunnyx were also subjected to Gentaro's signature handshake.

Days had passed after the fight against Shifter when Gentaro found a lead about Foundation X. That lead was them summoning an Aurora Veil, so tall that he could see it from his room, to hop to another world.

Immediately transforming into Fourze with the Decade module equipped, he stopped the decay of the summoned Aurora Veil and met up with Ladybug and Chat Noir.

"So this is goodbye, Fourze?" Ladybug asked.

"What are you talking about, milady?" Chat Noir lazily leaned on his staff. "This is not furr-well," He grinned. "I'm sure we'll be able to meet Fourze in the future, Bunnyx said so."

"Right, I know that," She mirrored her partner's grin. "Still I wanted to make use of your Radar module to locate Monarch, but we'll be fine."

"I don't know if it could locate him, but I think you got the idea."

"That is a missed opportunity," Chat Noir nodded.

"How so?"

"Monarch is able to communicate with his Akuma victims, either by goading them or forcing them to do his bidding." Ladybug shared her theory. "I was thinking the Radar module could hack us into the frequency, for lack of a better term, and give us his location."

Chat Noir nodded.

"And we can take back the Miraculous he stole."

"Still, you have your brand of villains to chase and I won't get in the way of that."

"Best of luck pal."

"Thanks."

Gentarou bid farewell to Paris's duo of heroes, but not before subjecting Gentarou with his signature handshake at the same time, which Gentarou was more than happy to reciprocate.

Kamen Rider Fourze waved once more to the heroic friends he made in this universe before propelling himself into the Aurora Veil with his Rocket module.

#kamen rider fourze #miraculous ladybug #kisaragi gentarou #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #tikki #plagg #gimme #story #kisaragi gentaro befriends the multiverse

[amorevolousfaith]

Chapter 1: Encounter

Pairing: Pero Tovar X Reader

Genre: +18 (MINORS BEGONE)

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: Sexual themes, family trauma, sexist themes, mentions of murder

Summary: It started off no different than any other traveler looking for boarding. But as time passed bonds grew, then as secrets were revealed, it become apparent the bonds might not hold.  

The twilight of the sky blankets over, the warm night bringing me comfort as I walk along the main road. Woven basket hanging from the cervas of my arm and hood pulls over my head. I pass the Inn cautiously as two men come out, one cursing and swearing at the other with an accident of a rolling tongue. Frustration clear as the night sky as he curses the man for stopping when they should have continued riding to get into town before the Inn was all booked up. I pause upon hearing their predicament, stopping in my tracks I turn back slightly, watching the two men adjust their horses before finally approaching.

“Excuse me?” I call softly, both men turning to look at me. The one who slurred curses is darker than the other one, with chocolate hair and tanned skin, a scar running over one eye and thin mustache over his top lip. The other has lighter hair and skin, his hair longer than the other and pulled back to rest at the nap of his neck. “I couldn't help but overhear your predicament. I’m sure the whole street knows by now as well.” I joke lightly, the man with the scar rolls his eyes.  “My sisters and I have a wayward house not too far from out of town for those who are unable to book a room in the Inn, you are more than welcome to follow me back.” I offer with a smile.

The two men look at one another carefully, “At what price?” The paler man questions. “Just a strong pair of arms, it's just my sisters and I and the property has many things that need to be done that we’re just not cut out for.” I shrug, “If we hurry back I can feed you as well, perhaps a bath if you care for it.” I chime. The two men look at one another again, “And it’s just you and your sisters?” The man with the accent questions, “and whoever else has wandered in since I left at noon.” I chirp. “Would you like to ride on one of the horses?” The pale man prompts, “I suppose it would make the trip faster.” I agree walking closer. “You aren’t going to kill me are you?” I joke as the darker man lifts me up onto his saddle, “I think we should be asking you that question chica,” He grunts before pulling himself up behind me. “And kill the people who are going to help us lift that damned rock out of our garden? I think not.” I snort, keeping my eyes trained forward while directing them along the right path.

“So why is it you and your sisters have a boarding house out in the middle of nowhere?” The paler man questions, “Our father was a greedy man, cared more about his estate than any of us. So when he died and the house was left to us, we thought what better way to spite our father than open it to the people he would roll over in his grave about if knew them to be living inside.” I laugh. The story draws a laugh out of the two men, “You are spiteful women.” The man behind me chuckles. “Only to those who deserve it.” I muse pointing to a narrow path between the trees.

Upon pushing through the narrow path it opens up to the great wide courtyard of the mansion. The men travel through the gates aweing at the site of the mansion, “You can take your horses to the stables, I’m sure one of us can get them fed.” I quip as the man behind me slides off the horse and helps me down.

I wait for them at the door until they stash their horses in the stables. I smile when I approach, postures guarded as I open the door. I lead them inside where I pause to take off my cloak and hand it up on the rack. “Sisters! We have guests!” I call out turning back to the house, all at once I hear multiple patter of feet rush to our location. The two men behind me stiffen up until they see the four figures of women rush into view, all of them beautiful in their own way.

“Guests!” Mary Anne gasps her hands clasping together, her hair of fire bouncing with her excitement. “Are they here to stay?” Elia probs, her silky black hair swishing as she tilts her head to scan the two men. “They must be! We’ll finally get that ugly rock out of the garden!” Yelina huffs, blowing her blonde hair away from her eyes. “Well don’t crowd them! Let them inside!” A’mee chides, her thick curly brown hair barely moving as she rushes to make room for their things by the door.

“They’re hungry? What do we have to eat?” I question passing my basket over to A’mee, “I made stew tonight, the garden had few fresh vegetables and SOMEONE couldn’t help but pluck them.” A’mee responds pointedly glaring at Mary Anne. “Would you like some stew?” I prompt the two men, both nod mutely, still taken in the fact they’re surrounded by women so willing to take care of them. “Well don’t just stand there you two! A’mee will show you to the kitchen, Yelina they have some horses that need to be fed, and I’ll prepare you beds and bath.” I list out. “What about me?” Mary Anne whines, “You can… Try not to scare them,” I trail off before rushing to prepare the rooms and baths.

I managed to fix the first room rather quickly, but as I start to fill the second tub full of hot water the door to the room opens. I glance over to see the darker man step into the room, I smile and wave him in. “Apologizes, I am not yet done with filling your bath.” I hum, taking the next bucket of hot water and pouring it into the tub. “I did not expect you to be, I eat rather fast.” He informs closing the door and walking deeper into the room.

“You do not have to be afraid to savor your food, we won’t take it from you.” I laugh reaching over to pour in healing salts. “A force of habit.” The man gruffly replies as I stir the water with my hand, “Well.” I sigh standing to my feet and grabbing the now empty buckets, “Thank you.” The man grunts weakly as if he isn’t used to speaking such words. “You are most welcome…” I trail off in thought, racking my brain for his name only to realize I don’t actually know, “Tovar, chica.” He supplies with a small smirk. “You are most welcome then Tovar.” I repeat softly before leaving the room. On the way down I pass the paler man who nods in thanks before disappearing into his room.

I dropped the buckets off at the back door before making my way to the kitchen where all four of my sisters sat. “Are they settled?” A’mee questions, “They are, and the healing salts are mixed in so it shouldn’t be long before they’re sleeping like babes.” I quip with a smile. “Good, The pale man, his name is William. Have you found the name of his companion?” She prompts, “Tovar.” I answer softly, lifting my finger and coaxing a tea cup to float over in front of me. “I do not trust that one sister,” A’mee murmurs, “He is powerful.” I hum coaxing over the teapot from the stove. “But he is not to be trusted.” She argues, “I do not need trust to have him in my bed.” I smirk while pouring my tea.

Masterlist // Next ---->

#pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x y/n #pero tovar x you #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar fanfiction #tovar #Tovar x reader #Tovar x y/n #Tovar x you #pero x reader #pero x y/n #pero x you #The Wall #The Wall fanfic

[bellascarousel]

I know that I said that I was going to talk about my WIPs first, and then about the ideas that are "percolating". Except, my Muse woke up this morning really wanting to talk about one of the fics I haven't even started writing, yet. And I tend to go where the Muse follows. Which is probably why I have eight WIPs - not counting the one that I'm currently writing chapter 1 of. (Which is not the one I'm going to be talking about, today. My brain is a very scary place.)

So, today on Bella Talks Writing, I'm going to tell you about my Hollywood AU I have planned. It's called Life Imitates Art, and it's from a prompt I saw on Twitter.

Anthony is a Hollywood nepotism baby - but a damn talented one. Edwina is an up and coming actress, and Kate is her manager. Anthony is set to star in a RomCom, that Violet is directing. Edwina is short-listed to play the female lead, but her and Anthony bomb the chemistry test. They all really like her, though. So the casting director (Agatha Danbury, of course) suggests she come back the next day to try out for the best friend role. Violet overhears Kate helping her rehearse for her second audition, where Kate is reading the lead's lines for Edwina to act against. She suggests that Kate try out for the lead - which Edwina jumps at. Kate not only nails the audition, but her and Anthony blow everyone away at the chemistry test. She gets the part, and since that means that Edwina's second chemistry test is with Kate, she gets the best friend role.

Kate and Anthony on set are electric. But, off-screen they hate each other. Of course, the Bridgerton clan are not stupid, and can see what's happening. They start trying to get them together, and taking bets on how long it will be before they cave.

So, some fun backstory stuff on this one. As mentioned, Anthony is a nepotism baby. Back in the day Violet and Edmund were a Hollywood it couple. Anthony has been acting since before he could talk. Benedict does set design, but he actually works more in theater, than in movies. Colin and Daphne are location scouts. Francesca is a composer who does a lot of work on movie scores. Gregory and Hyacinth are also both in acting, but Violet and (especially) Anthony are very picky about the roles they try out for and adamant that they focus on their education first. Colin has also started trying his hand at scriptwriting, but the only one that knows that is Penelope. Eloise is the odd one out, and is not in the industry.

As for Kate, she went to Columbia with a double major in business management and theater arts. She met Benedict there, since he was just a year ahead of her and also majoring in theater arts. His focus was set design, while hers was acting, but they have worked together on school productions. Kate also took some acting classes at Juliard. She continued acting in theater for a while after graduation, but when Edwina also went into acting, Kate being Kate she quit acting to focus on being Edwina's manager.

In addition to the Bridgertons and Agatha Danbury, several of the other characters from the books and show are also in the industry. Genevieve Delacroix is a costume designer. Penelope writes scripts. Simon owns a production company. I haven't quite figured out what Sophie does, yet. I'm open to suggestions, LOL. (Also, if anybody has ideas for how to include any other characters, I'm all ears.)

I have also gotten the brilliant idea of having a chapter naming convention for this one. Have each chapter be named with the title of a RomCom. There is one chapter that is already named. I don't know where it actually falls in the plot. But, apparently they do some on location shooting in Italy. The chapter is called When In Rome, and... I already know some of what happens in Rome 😉.

Let's just say that this is going to be an enemies to enemies with beneifits to lovers story. As soon as my brain stops writing about what happened in Rome, and various other future scenes in my head and gives me a starting point, I'll be getting that started.

#Bella Talks Writing #Life Imitates Art AU #anthony bridgerton #kathony #kate sharma #kanthony

[asksquidbeakagents]

Reminisce

Nine smirked, watching as Callie and Marie popped out of the manhole, Callie pointing at the stage and various other directions before dragging her cousin off. Looks like their patience had finally paid off.

Nine weaved through the crowd around the stage, trying to make it look like they were only trying to get a better view, before after a couple minutes slipping down the manhole the idols had popped out of.

Lana’s eyes narrowed as they saw the all-too familiar sanitized hybrid made their way towards the path to the crater, and to Alterna. Whatever Tartar could want down there, she doubted it was anything good. She glanced around, hoping she’d see one of the other agents somewhere. She’d even take Peony right now. But unluckily for her, there was no sign of any of them. Callie and Marie had already disappeared into the crowd, she was pretty sure Peony and a couple of giggling octolings had entered the lobby a bit ago, and she hadn’t seem Marigold and Lemon since the halftime announcement. 

Lana took a deep breath before following after the ai. Looks like she was on her own for this one.

___________________

Nine looked around, eyes wide as they took in the area around them. It was like nothing they had seen in years. With wide eyes they looked up at the false sky above them, reflecting back an almost perfect image of a still starry night. If they didn’t know better, they’d have almost thought they were looking at the night sky itself, instead of a screen hundreds of feet beneath the ground.

They slowly made their way across the small island, taking a quick glance at the Squidbeak’s base camp, shaking their head while assuring themself that the only guard was a sleeping Cuttlefish.

Nine knelt down to study one of the kettles littering the island, trying to think about where this AI might be before they felt their phone start vibrating in their pocket, as well as an odd feeling deep at the base of their skull. It didn’t take long for Nine to realize it was something, or more likely someone, trying to connect to her programming to communicate.

Nine shut down the request, not wanting to risk ORCA getting any ideas, but did pull their phone out, glancing at the new image on the screen. 

“I haven’t seen another AI since my creation. What are you doing here TARTAR?” A mechanical voice asked.

“I hear about another AI and I got curious. I was built with the capacity to learn after all. Were these kettles all you?”

“A combination of my own efforts and those of Bear #03. From what little I have learned of the creatures that now populate planet earth it seemed something they would enjoy.”

“You wanted them down here? What for?”

“I was created to record what occurs here in Alterna. There is nothing to record if there is no one down here. I merely wish to continue to perform my directive.”

“I see,” Nine said, cautiously running their own scan. They weren’t entirely sure it would work, but by some miracle it did. While ORCA did not latch onto it, it did give them a bit more information to work with. “Our programmings are... shockingly similar. Did...”

“Professor Alfred Kamabo was not among the humans who made it to Alterna. I was created by the combined efforts of Jackie Riley and Taylor Riley.”

“The professor’s lab assistants. They’re the whole reason the Professor had to give me a swear filter,” Nine mused, a small smile spreading across their face. They had almost forgotten those two.

“The other scientists did not view it as appropriate for them to teach me swear words,” ORCA stated. “They certainly tried though.”

“That sounds like them,” Nine laughed, before pausing. “You say the Professor didn’t make it to Alterna, but the twins did. Did they never think to find what became of me?”

“Shortly after the humans of Alterna arrived a blast was detected on the surface not far from Professor Kamabo’s lab. The twins assumed you would have been destroyed.” “I see. Thank you,” Nine said, frowning. 

Before Nine could think more about what they had heard however, ORCA spoke again.

“Is the being approaching a friend of yours?”

Before Nine could ask what ORCA meant, or turn around to see for themself, they felt something pressed to the back of their head.

“Tartar.”

Nine signed, raising their hands before turning around. “Really, Lana, must we do this every time we meet?”

“What are you doing here?” Lana asked, continuing to aim the borrowed Heroshot at Nine’s head.

“I hear about another AI like myself and you expect me to not be curious?”

“How’d you know about ORCA?”

“I have my ways,” Nine said. “I’m not planning anything. I merely wanted to talk to them.”

“Why the shell should I believe you?! You tried to kill me and destroy the world!”

“I am aware. And I do feel remorse for-” “Remorse?! Remorse doesn’t fucking cut it!” Lana shouted, her aim not faltering despite her emotional state. “You killed thousands! You tried to kill millions! And you expect me to just accept that you ‘changed’ and treat you like some harmless cephalopod?!”

Nine hung their head, looking at the ground. “I know. You have every right to hate me. But I’m not trying to hurt anyone.”

“Leave.”

Nine looked up, cocking an eyebrow.

“You need to leave. Get out of Alterna. Whatever you’re after down here, I’m not letting you get your hands on it. Unless you wanna get splatted. We’ll see how well you come back if I throw your hard drive in the lake.”

Nine nodded, following along as Lana herded them back to Splatsville.

Once back in town, Nine sank to the ground in a nearby corner, watching as Lana and Marie had a very heated argument. They had managed to slip away in the crowd, probably the only think keeping them from being flung in a snow globe somewhere, but they doubted they’d be able to regain entrance to Alterna anytime soon.

“TARTAR?”

Nine’s eyes widened, fishing their phone from their pocket. “ORCA? How are you? What did you do?”

“I connected your device to my mainframe. It’s a part of me now. I did the same thing to the tablet Agent 3 was given to access various things, however she doesn’t take it outside the crater. I wish to be able to see the world. I was created to learn and record. I wish to be able to do so.”

“I see. Is there any limit to how far I can take this before you lose connection?”

“If I transfer my data here, no, though it is not a permanent solution. It is rather cramped in here, to use a metaphor.”

“Could you transfer your data from my phone to something else?” Nine asked, head already whirling with ideas.

“I could.”

“Brilliant. Well ORCA, I think I’ve got a couple things I could show you.”

#moments of the muse #nine #lana #story mode #Alterna arc wrapped up #woo #ohhh look plot

[turtlethon]

Season Four Wrap-Up

Above: the Turtles as they appeared in the new title sequence introduced during season four.

With Turtlethon entries for all of TMNT ‘87’s fourth season now up, I thought it might be worth taking a few moments to reflect. I didn’t do recaps for seasons one or two as they’re much shorter and largely speak for themselves. For season three the recap amounted to little more than a Twitter thread. This project has grown a lot since then, however, and it feels fitting now to have a more permanent place for my info-dumping within the confines of the blog itself.

GENERAL MUSINGS

If seasons one and two of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles introduced and then expanded the world of the Turtles, and season three represented the point where they truly reached the big time, then season four felt more like a victory lap. Heading into this stretch of episodes, TMNT could legitimately claim to be the biggest animated show on television, its cultural impact probably about equal to the ascendant Simpsons for at least a few more months.

Above: Bebop and Rocksteady returned to their human forms - or at least appeared to - in season four’s syndicated premiere, “Plan Six From Outer Space.”

Season four’s syndicated run kicked off in September 1990 with “Plan Six from Outer Space”, which paired a strong script from David Wise with underwhelming animation. Things didn’t get better from there, as a stretch followed of some of the worst episodes of the show thus far. It got so bad that at one point I was beginning to question my commitment to this project. Mercifully some strong episodes animated by the South Korean studios were sprinkled throughout and saved the first portion of the season from becoming a complete disaster.

Above: Michaelangelo fights with a grappling hook in “Peking Turtle”, with suspiciously empty fists in “Shredder’s Mom”, then goes back to the nunchucks in “Raphael Knocks ‘Em Dead”.

From this point on we began to see the remaining rough edges of the Turtles being filed down, as the producers started responding to the negative attention from parental groups and pundits now that the show had exploded in popularity. Many of you will be aware that Michaelangelo began using a grappling hook instead of nunchucks, following the removal of scenes where the chained weapons were used in the Hero Turtles versions of seasons two and three. (Licensed TMHT products that incorporated US-derived Turtles art would often be altered too, sometimes leaving Mikey with balled-up fists, other times giving him swords or sais instead.) What surprised me was that after the grappling hook was established as Michaelangelo’s new weapon, the nunchucks continued to see use on and off throughout much of the rest of the season in the Korea-originated episodes. So, what was going on here?

My guess is that the inconsistency with Michaelangelo’s weapons hints at the troubled history of this season, and goes some way towards explaining the mixed-up order in which events take place. Given their higher production values and likely longer turnaround times, the episodes animated in Korea were probably in development first – hence they still incorporated the nunchucks – and took longer to finish. It’s also not a stretch to imagine that they were put together with significantly less direct oversight from the producers than the Dublin shows. After all, those were made in a studio directly set up by Murakami Wolf Swenson. This would explain why the syndicated run was loaded with MW Dublin episodes: faster turnaround times would lead to them being ready for broadast first. Just speculation, admittedly.

As the season progressed, it became clear that episodes were airing in an order different to what the writers originally intended, jettisoning any attempts at ongoing continuity. The character of Donald J. Lofty was referenced in three different adventures, acknowledging his prior history with the Turtles in his first appearance, as it was meant to air later in the season once the other episodes featuring him had been broadcast. The Technodrome was seen jammed in a bed of lava with no explanation as to why; it was only later that we saw the reason it ended up in this even worse predicament.

Above: Fenton Q. Hackenbrush (left) and his boss, Donald J. Lofty (right)

The thirteen episodes produced this year for syndication almost felt like a false start: it was once we got to the episodes produced for airing each Saturday morning on CBS that the show found its footing once more and production values improved. During this stretch the show settled into a consistent groove, with each week presenting a double bill usually consisting of one David Wise-penned episode (typically revolving around Shredder) and an adventure by other writers that showcased a different villain.

Among the seemingly endless parade of new allies and foes that appeared in the show this year, only a few will pop up again in season five and beyond. Interestingly, while previous seasons went out of their way to incorporate new figures and vehicles from the Playmates toy line, there was very little of that in season four, with the exception of Slash. A few characters and concepts introduced this year, like Mona Lisa, Rhino-Man and Mighty Hog, will wind up retroactively receiving figures in some form down the road. In the meantime, several of the new arrivals for 1990’s toy assortments will belatedly appear in season five.

Above: The Turtles have a lot to say to Bebop and Rocksteady regarding their new superhero personas in “Rhino-Man”.

One notable action figure introduced in 1990 who won’t be appearing in the original TMNT cartoon in any capacity is Fugitoid. By this point tensions between Eastman & Laird’s camp and Fred Wolf’s team over who was responsible for the success of the Turtles were escalating, so it’s understandable that the original creators would have gone out of their way to ensure their other characters weren’t used. This disagreement about ownership and the creative direction of TMNT began to directly affect the TV show in some remarkable ways this year, inadvertently leading to the creation of fan favourite Mona Lisa, but also to the weird Ray Fillet substitute and creative dead end that was “Ray”.

Above: Vernon signs an autograph for an adoring fan during his brief, inexplicable rise to fame in “The Dimension X Story”.

I almost feel like you could skip this season and not miss a whole lot. Did much of anything happen that amounted to any real character growth? Irma gained and lost a boyfriend for a couple of episodes, then got a promotion. Likewise, Vernon briefly got promoted over April, but now seems to be back where he was. Baxter returned, now aligned with “Z”. Rat King’s flute was destroyed, but he gained a new friend in Leatherhead. Through all of this, the core cast – the Turtles, Splinter, April, Shredder, Krang, Bebop and Rocksteady – are still more or less in the same place they were at the end of season three. No-one's ready to meddle with a willing formula, at least not yet. Maybe the closest thing to an ongoing storyline concerning the Turtles was the recurring theme of Donatello struggling to get his dimensional portal working, but as the episodes featuring it also aired out of sequence, this lost much of its potential impact.

MY FAVOURITE EPISODE

Above: The Turtles reluctantly break up in “Splinter Vanishes”.

This was a tough choice because even the syndicated run included a few strong episodes, while the CBS portion of season four was full of classics and memorable stories. A recurring theme I noticed among the adventures I enjoyed most from this stretch of the show involved the Turtles travelling to Dimension X and infiltrating the Technodrome: “Shredder’s Mom”, “The Dimension X Story”, “Planet of the Turtles” and “Poor Little Rich Turtle” all incorporated this trope. “Son of Return of the Fly II”, the debut Saturday morning episode, was also a total barn-burner.

I really thought one of the above episodes would be my pick, but there’s another that I’m putting above even these: Francis Moss and Ted Pedersen’s “Splinter Vanishes” absolutely knocked it out of the park, exploring life for the Turtles after they stopped being the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, at least for a little while. The tropes of both breaking up the band and putting it back together were both handled exceptionally well. I never would have thought I’d pick a non-Shredder episode as my best of the year – and honestly, one of the flaws of this story was that no-one at any point even acknowledged during the team’s breakup that Shreds was still around – but neither this nor Splinter’s questionable behaviour were enough to greatly diminish my enjoyment. A few weeks on from watching it, I still think this is a Top 5 all-time TMNT ‘87 episode, and all the ones I mentioned above are at least in the mix for the Top 10.

MY LEAST-FAVOURITE EPISODE

Above: The animation masterclass that was “Michelangelo Toys Around”.

Not many contenders for this in the CBS run, but there were plenty in the syndication stretch. “Turtles of the Jungle”, “Peking Turtle” and “Four Turtles and a Baby” were all low points but the absolute stinker of season four for me was “Michelangelo Toys Around”, a hideous-looking outing with a nothing villain in Wilburr Weazell. Incredibly, the same credited writers for “Splinter Vanishes” were also responsible for this one, which I guess just goes to show that anyone can drop the ball or just as easily knock it out of the park.

THIS YEAR’S WINNERS

Above, from top: Raph hits the stage to become a stand-up comedian in “Raphael Knocks ‘Em Dead”; Mikey encounters a real-life superhero in “Michelangelo Meets Bugman”; Donnie briefly goes undercover as a waiter in “Donatello’s Degree”; Leo becomes an avid gamer in “Leonardo Versus Tempestra”.

It might sound odd to say, but no-one benefitted from season four more than the Turtles themselves, not as a group but as individuals. Seasons one through three were mostly content to handle the green teens as a group, all with their own quirks but largely inseparable and moving in lock-step. With the team now household names, there seems to have been a conscious decision by the producers this year to encourage writers to come up with solo adventures for the Turtles, placing them in conflict with new villains. Though the influx of debuting bad guys has been largely underwhelming, Mikey, Donnie, Leo and Raph have all had opportunities to shine throughout 1990’s episodes, coming out of season four more well-rounded and likable than they were going in.

THIS YEAR’S LOSERS

Above: Krang in “Bebop and Rocksteady Conquer the Universe”, one of his better season four appearances.

I mentioned a few times through this year’s run that Irma – who initially was kept distant from the Turtles and increased in prominence through season three as she befriended them – seemed to get demoted back to being only an occasional player in season four. She did have a few good showings in the later stretch of 1990’s episodes, in particular being paired with Donnie in “Donatello’s Degree”, and her storyline promotion to stage manager suggests she’ll remain in the mix in the future.

No, the true biggest loser from the regular cast members this year is Krang. While seasons one and two established him as a big deal and a genuine threat, it was season three where he became a great comedic foil for Shredder, while occasionally travelling up from the Earth’s core to do battle with the Turtles himself. With the Technodrome now back in Dimension X, Krang’s role this year was reduced almost entirely to telling Shredder what gadget to steal and controlling the portal to Earth. A few great comedic moments sprinkled throughout the season weren’t enough to make up for the fact that his role in the show at this point has diminished, particularly now that a wider range of villains are being used.

YOUR FAVOURITES

Above, from top: Mikey and Raph in “What’s Michelangelo Good For?”, the most popular season four Turtlethon entry; Raph and Mona Lisa during an anxious moment in “Raphael Meets His Match”.

One of the things I’ve learned as Turtlethon has progressed is that my idea of what makes a good Turtles episode doesn’t always line up with what you as readers enjoy. I was a big advocate for “The Dimension X Story” and hoped my enthusiasm for it would be shared with all of you, but that one didn’t move the needle at all. Conversely, writing about “What’s Michelangelo Good For?” felt like work for me and I didn’t expect it to get any kind of a response, only for it to go on and become by far the most popular episode I’ve covered from this or any season. A lot of you really like Mikey, and possibly also Dr. Goodfellow and Pete.

Other times... you just know. The second most popular entry was for “Raphael Meets His Match”. I always expected this one to do well given that it incorporates one of the show’s most popular ships in Raph/Mona Lisa. It was a lot of fun to write about this one and explore the convoluted development of Mona, one of the show’s most intriguing guest characters.

WHAT’S NEXT?

Above: Cover art for the forthcoming first issue of “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Saturday Morning Adventures”.

I’m going to take a short break before we head into season five to cover some one-off TMNT related media that I’ve wanted to write about but haven’t gotten around to. On my to-do list are the first two live-action movies, the recent video game “Shredder’s Revenge”, and a couple of other one-off cartoons which tie back to the Turtles in different ways. I doubt I’ll get around to covering all of these during the seasonal gap, but whatever doesn’t get handled now will stay in the potential mix for down the road. (I’m also open to suggestions if there’s something in particular connected to the Turtles that you’d like to see me needlessly over-analyse.)

I joked last year that 2021 was my “second summer of Turtlemania”, bringing back the spirit of 1990. This was quickly followed by the autumn, winter and spring of Turtlemania. If anything, though, 2022 has felt like the year that the wider world has rediscovered the heroes in a half-shell again. Between the aforementioned Shredder’s Revenge, the Rise of the TMNT movie, and the upcoming Cowabunga Collection, there’s a lot going on. Less talked about but of great interest to me is the imminent Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Saturday Morning Adventures comic series from IDW, which will serve as a continuation of the 1987 cartoon continuity. The first issue is due at the end of September, so expect to see some coverage of that here as we head into autumn.

On we go, to the mercifully much shorter season five!

#Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #TMNT #Ninja Turtles #Turtlethon #1990 #TMNT 1987